Chapter 92: The Rising Tide Fan

Muyu Island, evening. The golden rays of the setting sun washed over the Tranquil Abode—the residence Jiang Chen had rebuilt for himself. This place had once been nameless, but as the sect took shape and the ragtag group gradually became more organized, Wang Yuan, who was responsible for internal affairs, undertook a thorough planning of Muyu Island after consulting Jiang Chen. He bestowed upon it a host of dignified-sounding names.

The sunset was as red as blood, and against its glow, Wang Yuan and Mouse Tianjiao made their way to the Tranquil Abode. Catching sight of Jiang Chen seated beneath the peach tree, sipping tea, Mouse Tianjiao scampered over at once, its tail swishing as it deposited a storage pouch before him. With a series of high-pitched squeaks, Mouse Tianjiao glanced up at Jiang Chen, puffing out its chest, clearly eager to be commended for its efforts.

Amused, Jiang Chen tossed it a small handful of spirit sand and reached for the pouch. This was the second storage pouch he’d received that day; the first belonged to Luo Qiao, while this one came from Luo Qiao’s disciples. After killing Luo Qiao, Jiang Chen had, as usual, scoured his soul and taken his storage pouch. Yet Luo Qiao had been prepared for the worst. Apart from a few bottles of emergency pills, there was not a single grain of spirit sand within.

All the true legacy and resources of the Fisher Spirit Sect had been stowed in another pouch, entrusted to two disciples. Before the fateful duel, Luo Qiao had ensured they concealed themselves, so that if he were to fall, these two would carry the sect’s final hope. Even after achieving minor success in Qi Refinement, Luo Qiao had never underestimated Jiang Chen.

“My lord, the two disciples of the Fisher Spirit Sect have been executed, along with the traitors who secretly colluded with them. Their corpses have been brought back to the sect,” Wang Yuan reported respectfully.

If you do not root out the weeds, they will sprout again with the spring breeze. Now that the Fisher Spirit Sect and the Taiping Sect stood on opposite sides, the latter had to eradicate its rival completely, leaving no hidden threats. While there had been no deep-seated hatred before, the moment both sects established themselves in Qinghe County, they were destined to become enemies. With the duel concluded and Luo Qiao slain by Jiang Chen’s sword, the enmity was now sealed in blood. As for hiding, the Taiping Sect was truly the local power in Qinghe County and had never slackened their surveillance of the Fisher Spirit Sect. Though Luo Qiao’s two disciples hid themselves well, they were swiftly discovered and died under a siege by the Taiping Sect.

Jiang Chen nodded at this report. “You have done well this time. Go and rest.”

Jiang Chen glanced at Wang Yuan and spoke. Wang Yuan bowed in acknowledgment and withdrew.

After Wang Yuan's departure, Jiang Chen used his true energy to break the seal of the storage pouch, taking some effort to do so.

“It’s all here, just as expected.”

As he surveyed the contents, Jiang Chen’s gaze flickered. The pouch was packed with a miscellany of treasures—the last remnants of the Fisher Spirit Sect’s foundation. There was the fundamental Qi Refinement technique, “The Surging Wave Art”; a secret record on spirit shell cultivation; about thirty catties of spirit sand, equivalent to three thousand spirit stones; a mid-grade magical artifact, the Tidal Fan, among other items.

The Surging Wave Art was the sect’s core inheritance. The shell-cultivation manual and much of the spirit sand had come from the Gao family, who had encouraged the Fisher Spirit Sect to settle in Qinghe County. Their aim, besides opposing the Taiping Sect, was to bind the Fisher Spirit Sect as their vassal. By agreement, the Gao family provided the secret techniques and shell stock; in return, the Fisher Spirit Sect was to deliver sixty percent of their harvest to them. The mid-grade Tidal Fan had belonged to Luo Qiao’s favored disciple, Xu Lang.

During the ambush, Luo Qiao had risked his life to recover his disciple’s corpse, losing an eye in the process. Unfortunately, he practiced a diluted form of Qi, and time was too short, so he never managed to refine this artifact. Had he succeeded, his power in magical combat would have been greater.

“This is a fine artifact indeed,” Jiang Chen mused, hefting the Tidal Fan. “Fifty layers of restriction—ten more than the Crane’s Cry Immortal Needle. A true treasure among mid-grade artifacts.”

The fan’s bone was forged of cold iron, its leaf crafted from the hide of a greenwater serpent. It was chilling to the touch, evoking slight discomfort.

“A turbulent youth, a sudden rise to prominence, and yet he never learned to restrain his edge. In the end, it brought him disaster,” Jiang Chen reflected, turning the fan in his hands. He thought of Xu Lang, Luo Qiao’s gifted disciple. Xu Lang had only encountered Luo Qiao at twenty-one, entering the Fisher Spirit Sect to begin his cultivation. In just nine years, he reached Qi Refinement—a true prodigy. Yet his talent drew envy, and so calamity befell him.

Two cultivators at the Qi Refinement stage, though both early, made the Fisher Spirit Sect a force to be reckoned with in Changfeng Prefecture. After the great upheaval, many perished, but by rights the sect should have survived—had they not been drawn into the vortex. Ultimately, the sect was destroyed, its enemies fanning the flames of chaos, seeking Xu Lang’s death. Through his conduct, Xu Lang had made many enemies, and some could not bear to see him rise any further. Thus the downfall of the Fisher Spirit Sect was sealed.

“Luo Qiao’s memories reveal that Xu Lang’s innate talent was not extraordinary—his spiritual aperture only three inches wide. For him to achieve Qi Refinement in nine years, there must be another secret.”

With that thought, Jiang Chen set down the Tidal Fan and took a bamboo fishing rod from the pouch. It was about three meters long, hookless, stringless, and made entirely of yellowing bamboo.

“Compared to the Tidal Fan’s evident spiritual aura, this rod is utterly ordinary. But it’s precisely that ordinariness that makes it suspicious.”

Turning the rod over in his hands, Jiang Chen considered its secrets. Through soul-searching, he knew Xu Lang excelled at fishing. Whenever he went to the river, he returned with a catch, often bringing back spirit fish. These contributed greatly to his rapid cultivation, and even allowed Luo Qiao to attain minor success in Qi Refinement, as Xu Lang would sometimes gift him spirit fish.

“I wonder what secrets this rod holds—or perhaps Luo Qiao simply misunderstood?”

Jiang Chen attempted to channel his true energy into the rod. Luo Qiao had long suspected something unusual about Xu Lang. Yet he himself was of mediocre talent, his foundation fated never to be firm. Besides, Xu Lang treated him as a father, and he in turn cherished Xu Lang as a son; their bond was close. Thus he never probed further—until Xu Lang’s death, when he finally turned his attention to the rod.

No matter how he studied it, Luo Qiao found nothing strange about the rod and set it aside for future investigation.

Now, as Jiang Chen infused the rod with formless true energy, it remained inert. He frowned and tried a drop of blood; still, nothing happened.

“True energy fails, blood won’t work—only soul force remains.”

Summoning his soul power, Jiang Chen directed it into the rod. At last, the rod responded, absorbing his soul force like a sponge.

Noting the change, Jiang Chen’s eyes lit up.

“I fear only apathy, not reaction.”

With a soul force seven times the norm, Jiang Chen unleashed his strength and began to wrestle with the rod.