Chapter 116: Three Corpses Obtain Three Treasures, Three-Foot Rope of the Immortal-Binding Spell

When the osmanthus blossoms fall in September, the ground is left ringing with emptiness.

In the space of three days, Song Mo stitched together three more corpses.

The first belonged to a wandering physician. Somehow, he had obtained a third-watch snake as thick as a child’s arm and preserved it whole in a jar of wine.

The jar also held a loose bamboo basket. Whether the wine had lost its strength or the jar itself had cracked, no one knew. In any case, misfortune had plainly chosen the wandering physician.

That day, he was hawking his snake wine in the street, boasting, “For bruises and broken bones, it has no equal. For strengthening the kidneys and restoring virility, why seek any other remedy?”

But the people of the streets were seasoned rogues. Who would listen to such drivel? At most, snake wine might dispel a little dampness. As for restoring virility—was it a tiger’s penis or a stag’s?

Still, there were always desperate men willing to try anything.

The wandering physician had been hawking his snake wine for only a short while when a young man sidled over to ask the price.

He was thin as a reed, little more than skin stretched over bones.

When the wandering physician got a clear look at him, his heart leaped with delight. Fortune had surely smiled upon him; tonight’s food and drink were as good as secured.

The young man was none other than Xiong Benjiu, a notorious young wastrel who spent his days drifting through brothels and pleasure houses.

As the saying went, lust was a knife that scraped away the bones. One stroke after another, and before long Xiong Benjiu had been reduced to this state. People no longer called him by his given name, but mockingly referred to him as Young Master Bamboo Pole.

That day, Young Master Bamboo Pole had gone once more to Brocade-Clad Lane in search of pleasure. Unexpectedly, his body had been so thoroughly depleted that even after the famous courtesan had displayed every trick she knew, the young master had still failed to perform. His manhood was as useless as cotton.

Distraught, Young Master Bamboo Pole staggered out of Brocade-Clad Lane. He thought his days of chasing flowers and seeking willows were over forever. Then, just as he reached the street, he heard the wandering physician hawking his snake wine.

The physician possessed a silver tongue and managed to praise a single jar of snake wine into a miraculous potion that could make a man’s spear stand unyielding.

Young Master Bamboo Pole had just suffered a devastating blow. How could he possibly resist when he heard of such a divine remedy? He hurried over and asked the price.

The wandering physician demanded an outrageous sum: ten ounces of silver.

Young Master Bamboo Pole did not even furrow his brow. He handed over the ten ounces, seized the jar of snake wine, and ran straight back to Brocade-Clad Lane.

Once there, he requested the same courtesan as before.

She found it strange. Why had Young Master Bamboo Pole returned after looking so crestfallen only moments ago?

But so long as he paid, she would have welcomed him whether he was cotton or twisted dough.

After all, if she could collect a reward without lifting a finger, why would she refuse?

Young Master Bamboo Pole persuaded the courtesan to bathe first, while he secretly opened the jar of snake wine.

Then a sinister scene unfolded. As he poured the wine, he accidentally tipped out the preserved third-watch snake.

The creature was a ghastly, blood-red color. Yet Young Master Bamboo Pole was consumed by lust and felt no fear.

But while he was distracted, secretly peeking at the courtesan as she bathed, the third-watch snake suddenly flicked out its tongue.

Before Young Master Bamboo Pole could react, it had already sunk its fangs into his neck.

He let out a shriek, and then his entire body collapsed to the floor, twitching violently.

When the courtesan emerged, she saw the third-watch snake rolling drunkenly across the floor in crooked circles.

She cried out for the madam, but by then Young Master Bamboo Pole’s face had turned purple and livid. He had long since breathed his last.

How could the Xiong family quietly endure the death of their beloved son? Once they had learned the whole story, the family servants dragged the wandering physician away from the brothel where he was drinking and beat him savagely.

Unexpectedly, the wandering physician was just as frail as his victim. After a single beating with sticks, he too expired and went to keep Young Master Bamboo Pole company.

With a life lost, the Capital Prefecture investigated the matter and decided that the Xiong family were the injured party. The wandering physician had been the one selling false remedies, and he had no family to make a claim.

As the saying went, if the people did not report a crime, the authorities would not pursue it. Thus, the matter came to an end.

After Song Mo stitched together the wandering physician’s corpse, the Soul-Summoning Register awarded him a sixth-grade reward of the Yellow tier: a healing ointment for bruises and injuries.

Its fragrance was rich and strange, but Song Mo had no use for it, so he passed it on to Xia Yu.

The second corpse Song Mo stitched belonged to a fisherman under the command of the River Transport Gang in Dark Moon City. His name was Old Second Jiang.

In truth, Old Second Jiang was an honest fisherman who made his living by casting nets each day. Though his life was poor, there was no reason he should have died so young.

The trouble was that Dark Moon City was a tangle of competing powers, and Yu Mofan, leader of the River Transport Gang, had been suffering a particularly severe headache of late.

Outside the capital of Jian’an lay nine rivers and twelve waterways. His gang controlled both shipping and fishing, and their lives had been comfortable enough.

But recently, someone had begun deliberately provoking him.

That man was Huang Xinlong, a resident of Dark Moon City. Relying on his great physical strength and the loyalty born of his roving life, he had gathered a considerable number of desperate criminals around him.

Huang Xinlong was no fool. He had set his sights on the salt-smuggling trade and consequently established the Salt Gang in Dark Moon City.

But selling salt required boats, and boats inevitably led to friction with Yu Mofan’s River Transport Gang.

At first, Huang Xinlong’s forces were small, and Yu Mofan paid him little attention. Yet the enormous profits from smuggling salt, combined with the fact that the Salt Gang consisted almost entirely of reckless desperadoes, soon allowed Huang Xinlong and his organization to rise like the sun at noon.

As the saying went, one could not tolerate another man sleeping soundly beside one’s own bed. The leader of the River Transport Gang naturally refused to sit idle and wait for Huang Xinlong’s Salt Gang to replace his own.

Thus, the Salt Gang and the River Transport Gang had recently been clashing in a series of bloody battles, leaving countless dead and wounded.

During the most recent fight, poor Old Second Jiang was unlucky enough to have his skull split by a hoe. He died on the spot.

After Song Mo stitched together his body, the Soul-Summoning Register awarded him an eighth-grade reward of the Yellow tier: a farming manual on fish cultivation.

Grass carp, carp, crucian carp—it covered them all. Any sort of fish could be raised according to its methods.

But Song Mo read only two pages before using the book to prop up one leg of a table. After all, he was no fisherman.

The third corpse Song Mo stitched was rather interesting. It belonged to an illusionist.

The illusionist had no known name and was called Three-Foot Rope.

Three-Foot Rope was a remarkable man. From childhood, he had studied stage magic under an old master. Once he had mastered the art, he traveled across the Southern Seas and learned the renowned Celestial Rope.

After returning to the capital, Three-Foot Rope displayed the Celestial Rope at the Spring Breeze As You Wish Pavilion.

First, he placed an open burlap sack on the ground. Then he began muttering an incantation.

Rustling sounds came from inside the sack. Before long, a rope of unknown length shot straight into the heavens, and Three-Foot Rope, light as a swallow, scampered up it in a flash.

He climbed the Celestial Rope during the Hour of the Dragon, yet did not leap back down until midday.

In his hand was a curious object: a woman’s garment embroidered with glittering metal pieces. According to him, it was the robe of a celestial maiden.

The spectators were all astonished by the marvel of the Celestial Rope, and from then on they called him Three-Foot Rope.

After he became famous, Three-Foot Rope rarely performed. Unless some high official or wealthy nobleman offered a fortune, he would never demonstrate the Celestial Rope.

Moreover, whenever he did perform, he always brought down some small trinket belonging to the immortals. Those items would naturally be purchased by the powerful and wealthy at exorbitant prices.

No one else understood the secret, but Song Mo saw it clearly. Three-Foot Rope had learned a secret art in the Southern Seas called the Saba Luo Method, which made his body light as a swallow.

The hemp rope hidden inside the sack was merely an illusion. At most, it could shoot upward several dozen feet. But with the stage carefully arranged, the spectators could not see the truth and naturally assumed that he had actually ascended to the realm of the immortals.

As for the strange objects he brought down, they were simply things Three-Foot Rope had deliberately brought back from the Southern Seas.

He rarely performed the Celestial Rope for two reasons. First, he feared being exposed and losing his livelihood. Second, he had only brought back so many curiosities from the Southern Seas; once they were all used, they would no longer seem rare.

One day, someone in the capital once again invited Three-Foot Rope to perform the Celestial Rope. He did not refuse. He brought out the burlap sack, recited the incantation, and used the Saba Luo Method to climb dozens of yards into the air.

Then a terrifying scene appeared.

A dagger suddenly materialized high above the ground. No one knew where it had come from, but in nearly the same instant, it severed the rope.

With the rope gone, Three-Foot Rope lost his support and plummeted.

When the spectators finally saw what had happened, their faces turned ashen with terror.

Three-Foot Rope had been smashed into a mass of flesh. They had to dig him out with shovels.

Song Mo stitched together Three-Foot Rope’s corpse, and this time the Soul-Summoning Register gave him something truly valuable: a first-grade reward of the Profound tier—the Celestial Rope.

This was no counterfeit brought back from the Southern Seas by Three-Foot Rope. It was the genuine Celestial Rope.

Yet climbing it would not take one to the abode of immortals. It could only teleport its user to any location within a radius of one hundred miles.

Even so, to Song Mo, it was already an extraordinary treasure.

…

Yet while Song Mo cheerfully stitched corpses and collected his rewards, he had no idea that a prison sentence was soon to descend upon him.