Chapter 12: The Art of Ironclad Armor

Muyu Island basked in sunlight, gilded in gold, resembling a golden carp poised to leap from the water. It was peculiar indeed—while the Soul-Entrancing Bay was shrouded in perpetual fog, rendering passage by boat nearly impossible, the heart of the bay, Muyu Island, seemed untouched by these mists, almost no different from the outside world.

“Muyu Peak. The island is shaped like a fish, and Muyu Peak marks the head, the highest point of the peninsula, and the residence of Ironman Tu.”

Warm sunlight bathed him as Jiang Chen ascended the steps to Muyu Peak. Soon, a servant ushered him into Ironman Tu’s manor.

“The winding corridors, each turn revealing a new vista—is this truly the home of Ironman Tu? It’s well constructed, more reminiscent of the elegant southern gardens from my memories than the abode of a bandit.”

Following the servant deeper into the courtyard, Jiang Chen’s gaze swept over flowing water, artificial hills, flowers, and bridges, his mind turning over these impressions. From Jiang Wang’s memories, the origins of this chieftain seemed anything but ordinary; now, seeing it firsthand, Jiang Chen was convinced. Every corner of the manor exuded refinement, hardly the work of a mere bandit leader.

While Jiang Chen pondered, they crossed a wooden bridge, and the servant brought him into a warm chamber, making a gesture of invitation before departing, leaving Jiang Chen alone.

At that moment, a deep voice echoed from upstairs.

“Come up.”

Hearing this, Jiang Chen knew the speaker must be Ironman Tu. Oddly enough, his senses had not immediately detected the man’s presence.

He kept his doubts hidden and ascended to the second floor. Since he was here, he would meet this legendary chieftain.

Upon seeing Ironman Tu’s true face, Jiang Chen’s gaze shifted ever so slightly. His first impression was one of raw power: the bandit chief of the River Roaming Gang was built like a bear, skin bronzed, head shaved, arms thick enough for horses to gallop upon, exuding a ferocious aura.

Yet, looking closer, Jiang Chen’s perception changed. Ironman Tu held a large brush, writing with meticulous strokes, his expression serious, eyes resolute, and his hand steady as a rock. There was not the slightest trace of impatience in his demeanor.

“A bandit’s visage, but a scholar’s spirit.”

After a moment’s observation, Jiang Chen formed an initial impression. The chieftain’s bearing surprised him.

Ironman Tu set aside his brush and looked up at Jiang Chen.

“Are you curious why a bandit leader like me isn’t wielding weapons, but instead practicing calligraphy?”

He seemed to have seen through Jiang Chen’s doubts, a faint smile appearing on his stern face.

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Jiang Chen nodded in reply.

“I am indeed curious.”

His words were gentle and elusive, but Ironman Tu paused, as if surprised by such directness—something he hadn’t encountered in a long time.

“Haha, Jiang Wang, you’re admirable. Since you’re curious, I’ll explain. I have refined my body to its utmost limit; to advance further, I must temper the mind.”

“For me, practicing calligraphy is another form of cultivation. Long ago, I took the imperial exams—though I failed to pass.”

A self-deprecating smile appeared on Ironman Tu’s face as he answered Jiang Chen’s question. Afterward, he retrieved a booklet and a porcelain bottle from his desk.

“I’ve long known you have talent, and you haven’t disappointed me. This is the Mystic Killing Finger, a martial art left by an old rival, powerful enough to reach the first-class realm. You excel at techniques of the hand, making this martial art a perfect fit. I hope you can restore its brilliance, so my old rival may rest in peace.”

“As for this porcelain bottle, it contains twelve Tiger-Leopard Pills, which will greatly strengthen your body. With these pills and the Mystic Killing Finger, I believe you’ll soon break through to the first-class level.”

Without further words, Ironman Tu handed the prepared items to Jiang Chen.

Jiang Chen accepted them without hesitation.

Seeing Jiang Chen’s decisiveness, Ironman Tu grew all the more satisfied.

“From now on, the Gold Sands Arena is yours. Guard it for three years, and when you return, you will be the fourth chief of Muyu Island. This is my promise.”

Ironman Tu’s expression was solemn as he spoke.

Meeting his gaze, Jiang Chen cupped his fists and bowed.

“Thank you, Chief.”

Without delay, Jiang Chen accepted the arrangement. For him, it was not a bad thing.

Ironman Tu did not detain him further.

After Jiang Chen left, Ironman Tu stood behind his desk, gazing through the window at the rising sun. For a moment, the boldness and elegance that marked him seemed to dissipate entirely, and he sighed.

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“I can no longer feel the warmth of sunlight; my time is truly running out.”

He withdrew his gaze, his expression shifting between gloom and clarity.

He was not a pure martial artist. Beyond his martial skills, he practiced a unique talisman art: Iron Armor Technique. This wondrous discipline could be cultivated by warriors, granting immense strength and making one’s body impervious to blades and arrows.

It was this powerful talisman art, combined with martial prowess, that allowed him to dominate without defeat. Yet, the cultivation of this art required absorbing the world’s yin energy. Over time, the yin energy corroded the body, causing the practitioner to lose sensitivity to the world, becoming as cold and unfeeling as iron.

After a moment, Ironman Tu gathered his thoughts. His situation was indeed complex, but not without hope; certain things still needed to be acquired.

“The kitchen has developed new dishes; I should go try them.”

Adjusting his mood, Ironman Tu left the warm chamber.

Over the years, his Iron Armor Technique had grown more powerful, its effects increasingly pronounced. He lost interest in many things, including matters of love—only fine cuisine still brought him joy. It was for this reason he had gone to great lengths to hire a master chef for Muyu Island.

After he departed, a breeze swept through the window, lifting the white paper he had used for calligraphy. Three bold characters were written upon it, not of immortals—a vigorous script, brimming with hidden sharpness, embodying yearning and defiance.

Elsewhere, after leaving Ironman Tu’s manor, Jiang Chen paused.

He turned back, gazing at the sun-drenched courtyard, yet saw only darkness.

“That chief is already on the verge of becoming something other than human. No wonder I failed to notice his presence at first. His talents are extraordinary—he has cultivated martial arts to the pinnacle of first-class, just a step from the master’s realm. He has also mastered a powerful talisman art, making his combat strength far greater than outsiders expect.”

After a brief encounter, relying on his keen senses, Jiang Chen discerned much from Ironman Tu. Despite some concealment, his vision pierced through—the yin energy surrounding Ironman Tu was nearly tangible. He was less a living man than a walking corpse.

“I still need more time to build my strength. Guarding the Gold Sands Arena for a while will be useful, giving me the chance to refine the Bloodfire Technique. But where is the treasure Jiang Wang longed for? Or does it even exist?”

That thought arose, and Jiang Chen looked no longer, turning to leave Muyu Peak. Sunlight fell upon him, casting a long shadow behind.