Chapter Twenty-Nine: Autumn Leaf Lingzhi

Zhou Yi’s thoughts drifted far afield. Beside him, the burly bearded man stared at the two of them, his gaze lingering on the tiger-head sabers at their sides for a long while before shifting back to their faces. His expression flickered between suspicion and uncertainty.

“Brother, what are you getting at?” Zhou Yi asked, narrowing his eyes, his discomfort clear under the bearded man’s strange scrutiny.

Song Hai, too, fixed his gaze on the man, a wary glint in his eyes. The bearded man’s stare was simply too odd, as if he had something to say but was holding back, leaving them with a vague sense of unease.

“If you have something to say, speak plainly, brother,” Zhou Yi said softly, as if he had already guessed part of the truth from the shifting expression on the man’s face.

The bearded man looked at them again, then drew a deep breath. His jaw tightened, resolve flashing in his eyes as though he’d made up his mind.

“Tell me, are you two disciples of the Mountain Blade Sect?” he asked, eyes fixed intently on them.

“We are,” Zhou Yi replied after exchanging a look with Song Hai, nodding to the bearded man.

That he had guessed their background did not surprise Zhou Yi—anyone with a discerning eye could have deduced as much from the sabers they carried.

At their confirmation, the bearded man seemed to shed a heavy burden, visibly relaxing. Beside him, his two companions exchanged glances, their eyes rounding in alarm as they stared at the bearded man.

“Brother!” one of them cried out in protest.

“There’s no need for more words. I have made my decision.” The bearded man cut them off with a wave of his hand, straightening his back. He fixed Zhou Yi and Song Hai with a piercing gaze. “I wonder—do the two of you want the Autumnleaf Ganoderma? And do you dare take it?”

His eyes glinted with a sharp, serious light.

“What do you mean by that?” Zhou Yi asked, glancing at Song Hai before fixing his gaze on the man, his tone calm, though he felt he knew the answer.

“Do you know who it was that first found the Autumnleaf Ganoderma?” the bearded man asked instead. “His name was Lü Ju.”

This seemingly unrelated statement changed the expressions of all four listeners. The bearded man’s companions went ashen, their eyes heavy with murderous intent as they stared at Zhou Yi and Song Hai. But then their gazes fell upon the sabers at the two men’s sides, and the killing intent faded, replaced by resignation and frustration as they glared at the bearded man.

Zhou Yi’s heart skipped a beat, though he paid no heed to the hostility in the eyes of the bearded man’s friends. He merely looked at the bearded man and said softly, “Are you telling me that you are Lü Ju?”

Song Hai, too, looked at the man, a strange light in his eyes.

Neither of them was concerned by the murderous stares from the other two. After all, the desire to kill alone was not enough—one had to have the ability to carry it out to be taken seriously. If they made a move, the two of them had the skills to handle it easily.

Though still at the postnatal level, they had reached its very peak—just a breath away from breaking into the innate realm. Their internal energy was abundant, far beyond that of an ordinary person. Even if they faced a true master of the innate realm, they would not be without a fighting chance.

“That’s right. I am Lü Ju,” the bearded man said in a low voice, locking eyes with Zhou Yi. “The Autumnleaf Ganoderma is in my possession.”

“In fact, if you two dare take it, I can give it to you right now.” His eyes appeared calm, but deep within them flickered a touch of madness, unwillingness, and desperation.

“What is it you want in exchange?”

Zhou Yi did not refuse. The Autumnleaf Ganoderma was indeed a rare treasure, too valuable to turn down.

“I want nothing,” the bearded man replied gravely.

“Nothing?” Zhou Yi smiled, as did Song Hai. Both men looked at him with amused, knowing eyes, saying nothing more.

At this, the bearded man’s companions, who had seemed so resentful moments ago, suddenly became calm. The middle-aged man in a straw hat on the left looked at the bearded man and spoke up, “Indeed, there is no request.”

“If you have the courage to take it, we will hand it over to you right now.”

“So, no requests—just trouble, then?” Zhou Yi said, understanding dawning as he watched the three men’s calm expressions. Clearly, the treasure had attracted too much attention and turned into a burden. The three simply lacked the strength to bear such trouble, and so wished to pass it on to someone else.

“If I’m not mistaken, you’ll give it to us, but only in public, correct?” Zhou Yi asked, smiling at the three men.

“Since you’ve guessed as much, there’s no need for pretense,” the bearded man replied with a shrug. “The Autumnleaf Ganoderma is indeed a wondrous treasure—but only if no one else knows you have it, and only if you’re strong enough to keep it.”

“When I found it with some friends in the wilderness, too many people saw it. Greed is a terrible thing. For the sake of this one ganoderma, I was the sole survivor among us. I thought then it would finally be mine.”

“But the news still spread. Now the whole world knows. Even these two brothers of mine—my own blood—were tempted by greed, and it nearly turned to tragedy,” he said, glancing at his two companions, who hung their heads in shame, before continuing.

“By now, the treasure has become a curse. We lack the strength to bear it. The Autumnleaf Ganoderma is a priceless treasure, but it is simply too valuable—far beyond our means to protect.”

He paused, a trace of bitterness in his eyes. “Too many people are after it.”

“Even the senior disciples of the great sects have made demands, each insisting I hand over the Autumnleaf Ganoderma to them. But there are too many. Whomever I give it to, I’ll offend the others. Now, even if I wished to pass it on, no one dares accept it. It’s become a burning hot potato.”

With that, all was clear. The three men no longer tried to conceal their feelings; bitterness, resentment, and above all, helplessness showed on their faces.

Such was the fate of those without enough strength.