Chapter 8: The Spirit Spring Stone

In the river valley, deathly silence reigned, broken only by the rushing sound of water.

“Flood serpent skin, a secret technique for taming eagles—old Hound truly left me a surprise,” Jiang Chen mused.

Letting the soul light in his palm dissipate, Jiang Chen absorbed the information he desired. Old Hound, whose real name was Jiang Bieshan, came from three generations of hunters. His great-grandfather once had a fateful encounter and acquired a piece of flood serpent skin, which contained a mysterious power. Using it as protection, he roamed the mountains and forests, built his fortune, and became a figure of some renown, ushering in prosperity for the Jiang family.

But as time passed, the wondrous qualities of the serpent skin faded. By Old Hound’s time, the family had fallen into decline. Later, disaster struck, forcing Old Hound to join the River Marauders.

Even so, the defensive power of the serpent skin made it a rare soft armor in the martial world, saving Old Hound from many calamities—until he met Jiang Chen.

“What a pity. In its prime, this flood serpent skin would have been a fine spiritual material, worthy of forging into a magical artifact. A flood serpent may not be a true flood dragon, but it still bears the dragon’s name.”

Jiang Chen stripped the serpent armor from Old Hound’s body. It resembled shed snakeskin, smooth and supple, but upon closer inspection, Jiang Chen could only shake his head. Although he was just beginning his path in the Immortal Way, he could tell that, for lack of proper preservation, the skin had lost all spiritual essence over the years.

“I’ll keep it for now. Perhaps it still has other uses. At the very least, it serves as decent protection for the time being.”

With that thought, Jiang Chen balled up the serpent armor and tucked it into his chest.

After finishing, he glanced once more at Old Hound’s corpse before drifting away. Deep forests never lacked tigers, leopards, jackals, and wolves—nature would see to the body’s disposal. For a hunter born and perished in the wilds, perhaps this was a fitting end.

The next morning, relying on the fragmented memories left by the white stag, Jiang Chen found its lair—a cave with a warm, gentle atmosphere, where all manner of flowers and grasses grew, lending it a certain elegance.

“The vitality here is indeed far richer than in ordinary places.”

Calming his mind, Jiang Chen carefully sensed the cave’s aura.

Previously, the memories glimpsed through the white stag had been vague, but now he could firmly confirm the presence of a spiritual treasure.

“But where is it hidden?”

Jiang Chen’s gaze turned sharp, finally settling on a spring at the cave’s deepest point, where water bubbled forth to nourish the entire lair.

After meticulous searching, Jiang Chen retrieved a stone from the spring. It was shaped like a goose egg, with a texture like white jade, though lacking its translucence. Flowing streaks of red and yellow marbled its surface. Outwardly, it seemed unremarkable, but with his powerful soul, Jiang Chen sensed the spiritual energy it contained.

“A Spirit Spring Stone. The quality is low—ungraded, truly—but for me, at this stage, it’s a fine treasure.”

Examining the stone, Jiang Chen confirmed its nature.

This type of spiritual object was innately imbued with water veins’ mysteries. Placed in a spring, it could transform the water into spiritual liquid—quite precious indeed.

“With this, my task here is fulfilled.”

Stowing the Spirit Spring Stone, Jiang Chen searched the cave once more to ensure nothing was missed, then departed.

Another day passed before Jiang Chen emerged from Rooster’s Call Mountain and returned to Wooden Fish Island.

Unlike his silent departure, his return drew considerable attention. Over the past days, frequent movements between his camp and Old Hound’s had aroused suspicion among many.

Jiang Chen, however, paid no heed. Upon his return, he secluded himself in his courtyard, avoiding all outside affairs. For him, the most urgent matter was mastering the Bloodflame Technique; everything else could wait.

His behavior left many of the River Marauders both wary and curious. A few days later, news spread: Old Hound and the Feng brothers under his command had vanished without a trace, presumed dead in Rooster’s Call Mountain. Instantly, undercurrents rippled through the ranks.

The shrewd among them quickly linked these events to the contest for the fourth seat of leadership, turning their eyes toward Jiang Chen.

The fourth chair represented significant interests—none could help but covet it. Jiang Chen and Old Hound had been the main rivals, both entering the mountain, but only Jiang Chen returned. The conclusion was obvious.

With this realization, many began to scheme: some sought information and drifted toward Jiang Chen’s camp, hoping to curry favor; others, unwilling to see him rise, grew restless and uneasy.

Yet, no matter the agitation outside, Jiang Chen remained unmoved at the center of the storm, displaying neither ambition nor urgency, letting things unfold naturally. This unusual calm only deepened people’s doubts, for by all rights, he should be currying favor and building support for his ascent.

“A clever one, truly.”

In a two-courtyard residence, Second Commander Zhou Quan, known as Eagle Claw, enjoyed a maid’s massage while listening to his confidant’s report, and let out a cold laugh.

“Even a dog’s master must be respected—Jiang Wang killed my subordinate Old Hound, so, of course, I’m displeased. But avenging him? That’s not my concern.”

The emergence of the fourth seat inevitably bred strife among subordinates. Death was commonplace and tacitly accepted—even Zhou Quan himself had risen this way. In such matters, the leaders simply observed, refraining from direct involvement. Old Hound was merely a subordinate, not a beloved kin.

“The River Marauders belong to the Chief; in the end, who claims the fourth chair is for him alone to decide. Without his approval, all the scheming is for nothing. Jiang Wang seems to have grasped this, hence his docility.”

“Perhaps the Chief will indeed choose him. I wonder, though, what the Third Commander thinks, given that Jiang Wang is his man.”

Shaking his head, Zhou Quan gave a few instructions to his confidant and let the matter rest.

Age had dulled his interest in intrigue; now he only wished to enjoy life. Many had tried to incite him against Jiang Wang, but he paid them no mind—as long as his core interests weren’t threatened, the affairs below hardly mattered.

Most importantly, though the River Marauders appeared to have three commanders, in truth only the Chief held real power. As long as the Chief remained, no matter how turbulent the undercurrents, the heavens of the River Marauders would not be overturned.