Where Immortals Once Walked-Chapter 343: Zhu Erniangs Fortune

The humans built bonfires and roasted meat. The land of the Jiana Tribe, which had mostly been devoid of human activity, was once again filled with the voices and laughter of humans.

Just then, Dong Rui emerged from the Demon Nest itself, his hair a total disaster, following the sound like a sleepwalker. He sat down by the fire and rubbed his hands together hard to warm them.

He had put that straw mask back on, so his face did not scare anyone this time. Even so, Tu Zhongli noticed an extra person by the flames and frowned. “And who’s this one?”

He Lingchuan thought, What are you getting annoyed for? This isn’t your territory. Out loud, he said, “An apothecary who got washed into the swamp with me. Zhu Erniang has him brewing some medicines.”

“Where are you two from?”

“Yuan.”

Tu Zhongli startled. “That far?”

One of his men sitting nearby was chewing fish meat and grinning. “I heard people in Yuan can barely eat anymore. Is that true?”

He Lingchuan shot him a sideways look. “Where’d you hear that?”

“My relatives live in Xun Province. They said people are starving to death, and yet the Royal Court of Yuan is still squeezing taxes from them harder, like they want the people to dig a meter into the ground to scrape up copper coins. So the Provincial Governor of Xun Province rebelled, left without a choice.”

He Lingchuan’s voice cooled. “The Provincial Governor of Xun Province didn’t rebel for such a simple reason.”

“Oh?” Interest lit up around the fire. Tu Zhongli took a swig of wine and asked, “Can you tell us more?”

He Lingchuan turned the question back on them. “And you lot—where are you from?”

“Xing.”

He Lingchuan did the math in his head. The State of Xing was a small state downstream along one of the Han River’s branching waterways. Xing’s territory was not even one-tenth the size of Yuan. More importantly, it lay east of the Demon Nest Swamp, hundreds of kilometers from Yuan’s borders.

And from what he had heard, the route back was all steep mountains and jagged ridges. Returning the way he came would not be easy at all.

Tu Zhongli and the others urged him on, and He Lingchuan obliged, picking out bits of current affairs from Yuan and telling them in rough strokes.

To people from Xing, this was all first-hand news, making it fresh, sharp, and exciting. Tu Zhongli clicked his tongue and said, “It sounds like the perfect moment to make a name and win merit.”

While he talked, He Lingchuan kept observing.

These “merchants” were actually divided into two very distinct camps.

One camp, led by Tu Zhongli, ate meat in huge bites and drank wine in huge gulps, laughed loudly, and spoke without restraint.

The other camp sat stiffly by the fire, barely eating, eyes darting around, as if they did not dare meet anyone’s gaze.

Steward Zhao was among that second group.

At that moment, the hospitable spiders offered them a snack. They had dug up fat white grubs from rotting wood and presented them on broad leaves.

These plump, pale larvae were “purely natural” wilderness food. Toss one in your mouth and crunch, and it would pop and burst with juice. The nutrition was astonishing, and survival types in the wild prized them like a gift from heaven.

The grubs were still wriggling on the leaves, very eager to prove their freshness. He Lingchuan and Dong Rui had been living here for more than half a month, so they were used to it. Steward Zhao, meanwhile, turned green and waved it away in horror.

Tu Zhongli’s men scooped them up and ate them without hesitation, one after another, even praising the taste.

Watching them, He Lingchuan grew thoughtful.

Dong Rui sat by the fire, yawning nonstop, casually grabbing a few grubs to eat. He Lingchuan leaned over and asked quietly, “Any progress?”

“Nope,” Dong Rui muttered. He then lowered his voice as he continued, “Just discovered the toxins in Zhu Erniang’s body are pretty useful...” His eyes then flicked toward the caravan as he asked, “Are these bandits they on the same side as Zhu Erniang?”

He Lingchuan’s gaze sharpened. “You can tell they’re bandits?”

“I’ve dealt with mountain bandits and violent brigands my whole life. Even if the number hasn’t reached a hundred thousand, I’ve at least dealt with eighty thousand. They’ve got a smell on them. One whiff and you know.”

Right, Dong Rui isn’t just some research-obsessed lunatic.

He Lingchuan was reminded that Dong Rui was also a long-term fugitive with a special talent for surviving in the lowest, dirtiest circles. He had rubbed shoulders with more scum than most people saw in a lifetime.

Just then, Steward Zhao clutched his stomach and got up, heading into deeper grass to relieve himself. Tonight’s food had been a mess—some burnt, some raw, some half-cooked. His stomach clearly could not take it.

He Lingchuan said, “Let me go verify something.” He slapped his backside and stood, following him.

Steward Zhao found a spot near water, dark and concealed. He was just about to undo his trousers and squat when He Lingchuan called from behind, “Bad place. Too many crocodiles by the water. Be careful or one might just bite off half your ass.”

Steward Zhao jumped, muttered “oh, oh,” and hurried to pick another spot.

Seeing that He Lingchuan was still trailing him, he could not help but ask, “Does Mr. He need something?”

Before He Lingchuan could answer, one of Tu Zhongli’s men strolled over and demanded, “What are you doing?”

“Taking a dump,” He Lingchuan snapped back before Steward Zhao could. “There’s still an open spot, want it?”

“You really take dumps together here? Are you not afraid of the stink?”

He Lingchuan pointed beside him. “There’s a nest of fire ants right there. You dare squat there?”

The man quickly hopped away.

He Lingchuan wandered off a bit, then circled back toward the wagons.

With large glowspores lighting the area, the whole open ground was as bright as daytime. Spiders were shuttling in and out of the Demon Nest, carrying goods and loading them onto the wagons.

The caravan had brought saline clay and assorted merchandise. Of course, the return trip would be fully loaded with Demon Nest Swamp specialties to sell for a high price.

No wagon was left empty.

When He Lingchuan saw what the burrow spiders were bringing out, he was almost dazzled.

First, there was bolt after bolt of spider silk. This was the kind of hard currency people outside scrambled for.

The silk of burrow spider monsters came in three or four varieties. Even the most common type had astonishing stickiness, and they were thus used for traps or fishing, and they were far better for such purposes than ordinary nets. A higher-grade type was less sticky but had superior elasticity and toughness, making them perfect for gloves or soft armor, lightweight yet strong, and resistant to water and fire.

And then, of course, there was the rarest, highest-grade silk. These ones were fit for refining magical artifacts, especially the cloud brocade woven by Zhu Erniang itself. The ones the Spider Queen made were strong enough that even heavy firebombs could not blast through them. He Lingchuan had tested it with his own hands.

The spiders also carried out all kinds of dried medicinal herbs and dried insects. An untouched swamp was a natural treasure trove, home to plentiful old-growth herbs with potent effects. Even the shells of aphid-cattle eggs could be dried and used as medicine. When boiled for women after childbirth, they helped stimulate milk production.

And the fungal mats in the Demon Nest produced other mushrooms as well. One of which was hallucinogenic mushrooms, which Tu Zhongli’s “uncle” always prioritized for purchase.

They were mildly toxic. A person only had to take a few bites to feel like they were floating among the immortals, seeing things they should see... or definitely should not.

Most importantly, they did not have serious side effects, and they were not addictive. At worst, if you boiled a huge pot and ate too much, you would get diarrhea, or you would wake the next day foggy-headed, like a bad hangover.

Needless to say, this kind of thing was extremely popular outside. Humans and monsters alike would pay good money for the experience.

He Lingchuan had not expected that even glowspores were sellable.

These round, bulging spores were only a little smaller than steamed buns. Once dehydrated, they shrank to a third of their original size and stopped glowing, making them convenient to transport.

Soak them in water again, and they would swell back up and glow continuously for about four months, even after being removed from the fungus mat.

These were far better than candles or oil lamps. And as a steady, cold-white light source, it was a premium night illumination. People would love it—at least, depending on how the caravan priced it.

In less than two hours, forty wagons were loaded to the brim.

Watching, He Lingchuan understood very clearly that Zhu Erniang’s fortunes in the Demon Nest Swamp were unbelievably plentiful and probably second to none.

She ran her operation so diligently that every other “native” monster in the swamp looked like a broke vagrant by comparison. It was no wonder they were jealous. If you were the village pauper, never sure where your next meal came from, and the rich household in the village ate fish and meat every day, the meat so fragrant that the scent drifted into your hut, how could you not start thinking crooked thoughts?

He Lingchuan did not even need to do the accounting to know that Tu Zhongli was going to make a fortune.

This was assuming, of course, that he was truly a merchant.

Dong Rui walked up from behind, clicking his tongue. “Trading clay for local specialties. This caravan knows how to do business.”

He Lingchuan smiled. “What caravan?” Dong Rui had already pegged them as bandits. In that case, the so-called owner—the “uncle”—had likely met with an accident already.

When the nearby spider moved off, Dong Rui lowered his voice. “What’s your plan? Which side are you going to help?”

Bandits masquerading as a merchant caravan and entering the swamp to keep trading with burrow spiders, were they really here just to earn a profit on goods? Even with Thirty-Four’s brain, you could tell that could not be the real reason.

When the deadline came, and he could not produce the medicine Zhu Erniang demanded, he was likely doomed anyway. But over these past days, Dong Rui’s research had made new progress; his head had cooled down, and he had begun thinking about survival again.

He Lingchuan smiled faintly. “And you?”

“If these bandits have some token, they might be able to leave the swamp.”

“You should ask yourself why they came in at all,” He Lingchuan said. “Do you seriously think they came to skim oil off a greater monster like Zhu Erniang?”

This was still burrow spider territory. Taking advantage of Zhu Erniang would not be easy. Besides, the bandits had just been talking with them, so they knew that the Demon Nest Swamp’s reputation outside was horrific, not much better than a dragon’s den or a tiger’s lair. People who stumbled in almost never came out. It was even called a “demon den.”

For a group of bandits to dare enter and scheme against the local overlord, they had to have lost their minds.

Unless—

“They must have already thought of something.”

They had not exchanged more than a few words before one of Tu Zhongli’s men left the bonfire and headed toward them. Earlier, He Lingchuan had heard Tu Zhongli call the man heading toward them “Yellow Hair,” probably because the man’s hair was thin and slightly blondish.

Yellow Hair stopped beside them. “Boss told me to ask if you want to leave the swamp with us?”

He was dangling bait immediately, trying to pull them into a faction.

Dong Rui answered without hesitation, “Yes.”

“Then sit obediently by the fire. No talking, no causing trouble,” warned Yellow Hair.

Tu Zhongli had also heard that He Lingchuan had been trying to get close to Steward Zhao. Their original plan had not included two living humans suddenly appearing inside the burrow spiders’ den, especially two who did not look particularly honest or harmless.

At this critical moment, they did not like variables.

He Lingchuan asked, “When can we leave?”

“Very soon, uh... probably tomorrow morning,” said Yellow Hair. He then pointed toward the bonfire and said, “Just go sit and be good.”

He Lingchuan’s gaze swept over him, then paused on the bamboo tube at his waist. “That blowgun, I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere.”

The multicolored bamboo tube was about half an arm long and tied with a thin hemp cord.

Ah, it was among the corpses that washed into the swamp a few days ago. Some of them had the same kind of blowgun.

Yellow Hair’s face changed.

Just then, a spider guard hurried over and rumbled at Dong Rui, “You’ve been out too long. The ancestor is calling you back to the nest to work!”

Clearly, Zhu Erniang was also wary. Too many sly humans clustered together gave Dong Rui opportunities.

As for He Lingchuan, who was basically just an idle freeloader who ate and wandered, Zhu Erniang did not seem to care about him nearly as much.