Chapter Ninety-Five: Gathering of the Mighty

The crowd on the platform grew steadily larger, yet no one was born—the assembled, including Ren Tang, watched the pavilion’s brocade-clad young man with a mixture of suspicion and unease.

They had ample evidence to confirm that they were among the first visitors to traverse the Sky Sea Path. Since its opening just yesterday morning, it was impossible for anyone to still linger here.

As for traveling from the Thirty-Six Connected Cities to Tianluo Village, that was even less likely. The Sky Sea Path was notoriously perilous; if descending was difficult, ascending was far more so. Anyone journeying from the Thirty-Six Connected Cities up to Tianluo Village would certainly avoid this path, opting instead for another, more distant but far safer route.

Thus, the appearance of the brocade-clad young man at the Midnight River Pavilion at this hour was deeply unsettling.

Though no one voiced it, every heart silently suspected him to be either a ghost or a demon.

“It seems he’s not a monster,” Hu San’s eyes flickered as a thought stirred within. Though the brocade-clad youth appeared to be drinking alone and gazing at the sky, Hu San sensed his attention was far more fixed on them.

Unlike demons who took human form, this man exuded an aura of nobility—an elegance nurtured by long-standing prominence among men. Such noble bearing was utterly absent in demons Hu San had encountered.

Aside from the possibility that this man was a great demon who had formed a demon core, there remained only one explanation: he was a pure martial artist. Even so, his cultivation level must be high, certainly not below that of an elite master.

With this in mind, Hu San turned his gaze toward the abyss around the platform. Under the faint starlight, a shadowy cloud crept into his mind. Upon closer inspection, the mist surrounding them was tinged with a faint black aura—he recognized it well; it was the demonic energy exuded by inferior demons.

Contemplating this, Hu San subtly moved his hand and drew forth the Nine Bulls Bow concealed within the Sky Stone, resting it lightly on his right arm. A quick shake of his body summoned a dozen meteor arrows into his left palm, which he then placed quietly into his quiver alongside ordinary iron arrows—imperceptible to casual inspection.

At this moment, from the dozens of scattered merchants trailing the Wuzang caravan, a man wearing a straw hat stepped forward. Alongside him, a red-robed woman, leader of a female group, drew her sword and walked out with a bald middle-aged merchant affiliated with the Wuzang caravan. The three hurried over to Ren Tang.

The straw-hatted man lifted his brim slightly, revealing a rugged face marred by countless knife scars. His beard bristled stiffly like iron spikes. When he smiled, the scars seemed to shift, intermingling with the iron-like whiskers, resembling writhing black centipedes—a sight so grotesque it sent chills down the spine.

“Hey, Ren Tang, what a small world! Didn’t expect to see you again!” the rough voice rang out, instantly connecting in Hu San’s mind with earlier murmurs from the crowd. This was undoubtedly the speaker.

“I was wondering why the voice sounded so familiar. So it’s you, Iron Centipede. Not staying in your nest, huh? What brings you here?” Ren Tang responded with a forced smile and a cold snort. “Aren’t you worried that without you, the centipede nest will be wiped out?”

“No need for you to worry about that. But tell me, after all these years, has your cultivation improved? If you’re still stuck at the sixth step, next time we meet, it won’t be so pleasant,” Iron Centipede smirked, a faintly mocking expression. Without further gesture, a pale blue protective aura enveloped his arm.

“Qi! You’ve ascended to elite master?” Ren Tang’s face changed instantly; even the initially composed masked woman trembled, not to mention the sycophantic bald merchant.

“Just lucky, Ren Tang. What should we do now? Give us some direction. We can settle our affairs back in the kingdom,” the bald merchant hastened to interject, eager to prevent conflict.

“You are the Black Iron King of the Underworld, Ren Tang? I have long heard of you. I am Zi Tong from Lingfeng Mountain,” the woman in red with a violet veil said, “This young man looks suspicious. At a time like this, we must unite.”

At this, not only Ren Tang but even the mocking Iron Centipede showed surprise.

“May I ask if you come from Lingfeng Mountain in the Taisu Kingdom?” Ren Tang bowed respectfully.

“Heh, I doubt there’s another Lingfeng Mountain in the martial world,” the woman replied with a slight smile.

“So, you are a disciple of the Sacred Sect. I was remiss,” Ren Tang bowed again. The Taisu Kingdom bordered Wuzang Kingdom; Lingfeng Mountain was a top sect renowned for its numerous supreme masters, including over a dozen peak experts, and countless elite warriors. Within the entire kingdom, Lingfeng Mountain ranked among the top ten martial sects and enjoyed absolute prestige, recognized as a martial sanctuary. No wonder many reacted with such reverence.

“This young man’s background is mysterious. I was hesitant before, but with Miss Zi here, things should be straightforward. Let us approach and inquire. If all is well, so be it; if not, we may have trouble ahead,” Ren Tang proposed.

“Indeed. Zi Tong has come to the Qilian Mountains to train under our master’s orders. Though my junior sisters are not yet strong, they are versed in the Seven Star Array. Ordinary experts are no match,” Zi Tong nodded subtly, glancing at Iron Centipede. The meaning was clear: Iron Centipede was a notorious villain in the Wuzang Kingdom’s martial circles, a symbol of evil ways who naturally earned no favor from righteous sects like Lingfeng Mountain. Before matters became clear, they must guard against his schemes.

“Hmph!” Iron Centipede, though arrogant, held a grudging respect for the sacred sect’s disciples. Even with his ascended cultivation, he dared not confront them directly and gave no reply.

“That’s excellent,” Ren Tang smiled, entering the small pavilion along with Iron Centipede, Zi Tong, and the bald merchant, leaving Hu San outside. Clearly, Hu San’s status was still too low.

“If the intruder turns out to be a snake demon of that caliber, I’ll have to find a way out,” Hu San thought, unconcerned but somewhat pleased.

Feeling the thickening veil of demonic energy, and knowing the power of formations, he grew uneasy.

As for these so-called martial sanctuaries like Lingfeng Mountain, to him, they were merely fodder for demons. Relying on them to succeed was pure fantasy.

Retreating silently to the center of the caravan, ready to act at a moment’s notice, he watched as the others entered the pavilion. Ren Tang spoke first:

“Friend, please, the night wind is cold and the road long. We are weary travelers hoping to rest here a while. I hope you don’t mind?”

Setting down his teacup, the brocade-clad youth smiled lightly and turned his gaze to Ren Tang.

“How could I mind? Life is long and uncertain. We are all sufferers in this world, should pity one another. How could there be disturbance? Today, I show mercy and send you to eternal rest. Yet I wonder when a kind soul will send me to eternal rest.”

“Ah, such sorrowful words. Enough of that. I will send you on your way now to avoid delay; it would be unwise to keep the King of Hell waiting.”

The moment these words fell, friend and foe were clear. Not only the four seasoned martial artists, but even the ordinary merchants sensed the deadly intent woven into the brocade youth’s speech.

Without waiting, the four drew their weapons, lunging toward the brocade youth. They knew well the principle of capturing the leader first; this young man’s status must be high. If they could seize him, his followers would hesitate, perhaps sparing them this ordeal.

Yet, as they moved, the youth flicked his folding fan. A sudden surge of black energy burst forth, rushing from the outside into the pavilion, forming a barrier before him.

To guard against ambush, the four attackers shifted direction and retreated.

Under starlight and faint moonlight, dark shadows appeared. Hu San focused and saw over a dozen strange demons standing within the pavilion, glaring fiercely and shielding the brocade youth.

Among them was the purple giant bear he had seen in the forest. The fully forged old yellow ox was absent, likely raiding other caravans.

“Kill them all! Leave none alive!” The brocade youth’s face grew stern as he ordered the attack. The demons snarled fiercely, riding black winds, their presence so overwhelming it seemed to plunge the world into darkness and terrify gods and ghosts alike.

The four martial artists, seasoned veterans of the jianghu, quickly assessed the situation after initial shock. They slipped from the pavilion and returned to their ranks.

Before the demons closed in, the merchants had already constructed several defensive circles using their caravan’s framework. The staff efficiently organized and completed the battle formation.

From Hu San’s perspective, though these people were usually sluggish, at this moment they formed a force as capable as the finest elite squad, ready to face any crisis. Sadly, such crises were usually human in origin; now, with demons attacking, the formation risked becoming merely symbolic.

“Looks like peace won’t come today. I wonder how many demons have arrived,” Hu San thought, drawing the Nine Bulls Bow.

In just a few breaths, the demons had breached the defensive ranks, unleashing a frenzied massacre.