43: Chapter 43 Tiger Soul, Arrow Rain in the Dark

Old Stork Bay was deathly silent now, save for the sound of rain pattering on plantain leaves and oars slicing through the water.

The boat drew near.

On the shore, hundreds upon thousands of gazes were drawn like iron filings to a magnet, locking onto that small skiff and the solitary figure upon it.

Clad in a straw raincoat and a conical bamboo hat, his form was hidden within broad shadows, his features blurred.

His rowing was steady and unhurried, as if only one thing remained in the world—crossing the river, boarding the ship, and taking the saber.

He did not look around for ambushes, paid no heed to the clamor or the dead silence on the shore, and didn't even lift his head to glance at the White Dragon Flood Dragon Flag fluttering ferociously in the wind and rain.

He was calm to an almost eerie degree.

The skiff finally reached the base of the multi-decked ship, appearing exceptionally tiny within the massive shadow cast by the hull.

The person on the boat stopped rowing.

He looked up slightly, seemingly sizing up the rope ladder hanging from the gunwale.

The next moment—

The figure in the straw raincoat suddenly blurred!

With no run-up or visible buildup of power, he simply bent his knees slightly and soared abruptly from the skiff like a night owl taking flight in the rain!

The straw raincoat flared out in the wind, resembling a black rain cloud flying upward.

He cleared a height of over thirty feet with a single, graceful leap.

His toes tapped against the slippery gunwale with a faint 'tack' sound, and his silhouette vanished into the overlapping shadows and the halo of lamplight on the deck.

He was gone.

From appearing, to stopping the boat, to leaping, to boarding.

It had taken barely a dozen breaths.

It was clean, efficient, without a trace of delay or a hint of hesitation.

It was as if he had merely come to collect a pre-ordered piece of cargo, and the countless eyes and ambush nets on the riverbank were nothing more than pebbles on the roadside, not worth a single glance.

"He... he's on?!"

On the shore, the dead silence was broken by the first cry of disbelief.

Then, like boiling oil meeting water, the crowd erupted!

"He's on! He actually made it on!"

"My god! He really dared to come!"

"Madman! He's a total madman!"

"Look! The bookie! Where's the bookie? Twelve-to-one odds! He showed up! He showed up!"

The crowd surged toward the betting stalls, pushing, shouting, their eyes turning red with excitement.

The oily-faced bookie was pale now, his hands trembling as he clutched a thick stack of betting slips.

He looked at the gamblers crowding in and waving their betting slips, then glanced at the ship in the middle of the river. His throat was dry as he croaked out:

"What's... what's the rush! He showed up, sure! But the 'clean escape' bet hasn't been settled yet! Thirty-to-one! Thirty-to-one! If you've got the guts, bet on that!"

But no one was listening to him now.

Everyone's emotions had been ignited by that clean, decisive leap.

Shock, excitement, fanaticism, disbelief... all sorts of emotions boiled and steamed in the rainy night.

"He's a real man! A damn real man!" The young Jianghu traveler’s Face was flushed with excitement as he pumped his fist. "I don't care if he lives or dies, just for this courage alone, he has my respect!"

"Respect my ass! He's walking into his death! The Eight Great Vajras must be lying in wait all around; he won't escape!"

Someone threw cold water on the mood, but even their eyes couldn't hide their shock.

"Look! There's movement on the ship!"

Everyone hurriedly looked over.

On the top floor of the Hundred Refinements Workshop's main ship, the window of the largest forging workshop was pushed open. The orange glow of the furnace fire spilled out, faintly silhouetting several figures.

One of the figures was exceptionally tall and burly—it was the Workshop Master, Iron Madman.

He seemed to be standing opposite the figure in the straw raincoat who had just boarded.

The distance was too great and the rain too thick to hear what was being said or to see the expression of the guest.

They could only see Iron Madman speaking and gesturing with his hands. Then, someone nearby presented a rectangular wooden box.

The box was opened.

Even across dozens of yards of river surface and through the veil of rain, when Iron Madman removed the object from the box, the Martial Artists with better eyesight on the shore felt their eyes light up!

It was a saber.

The blade was long and narrow with a smooth curve. Its color wasn't the bright silver of ordinary steel, but a deep, somber dark gold, while a line of ghostly blue cold light, like a quench-mark, shimmered along the edge.

Natural patterns resembling tiger stripes coiled around the blade. As Iron Madman turned his wrist, those patterns seemed to come alive, faintly flowing with a blood-colored luster. An invisible aura of murderous ferocity and sharpness reached them even from a distance, making their skin prickle.

Even more strangely, the rain could not fall within a foot of the blade, as if pushed away by an invisible force, forming a ring of hazy mist.

"What a saber!"

"It's definitely a thousand-refined treasure saber! It's already manifesting anomalies!"

"That dark gold... could the main material really be the bone of a Red-Eyed Blood Tiger? And those blood-red patterns..."

The knowledgeable Martial Artists whispered in shock, their eyes filled with unconcealed greed and envy.

In the region of Three Rivers Estuary, a thousand-refined treasure saber was already a top-tier weapon, sufficient to serve as the heirloom of a clan or the treasure of a gang!

Holding the saber with both hands, Iron Madman's expression was solemn. His voice, bolstered by Internal Energy techniques, pierced through the rain. Though not loud, it carried clearly to the riverbank:

"The blade is two feet, nine inches, and three-tenths long, weighing thirty-seven catties and eight taels. It uses the spinal bone of a century-old Red-Eyed Blood Tiger fused with 'cold iron essence' as its spine. Four blood-fiend claws were forged into the edge, supplemented by twelve auxiliary materials such as 'Starfall Sand' and 'Cloud-Pattern Copper'. It was tempered a thousand times by this old man using the 'Layered Wave Forging Method', taking nine days and nine nights to complete."

He paused, his tone carrying a hint of regret yet also immense pride:

"This saber's edge is peerless, possessing an innate ability to break through Qi with its blood-fiend aura, and its Tiger Soul ferocity can shake the mind. When the saber was completed, the faint sound of a tiger's roar followed it. Unfortunately... it was ultimately missing a spark of spiritual convergence and failed to birth a sentience. It stopped at the peak of the thousand-refined grade, missing the realm of a spirit weapon."

He looked at the guest in the straw raincoat and said solemnly, "This saber shall be named Tiger Soul."

Jiang Hanzhou nodded slightly.

He reached out and gripped the hilt.

It felt heavy and cold to the touch, and then a warm yet domineering power surged from the hilt, faintly resonating with the Dragon-Tiger blood-qi he had cultivated through the Dragon Subduing and Tiger Taming Skill.

The blade trembled slightly, emitting a low, joyful hum that seemed to come from ancient, primordial wilds.

On the dark gold blade, the blood-red patterns glowed, staining the surrounding orange furnace light with a faint crimson hue.

A flash of satisfaction appeared in Jiang Hanzhou's eyes.

His left hand picked up the scabbard.

The scabbard was a gift from Iron Madman, woven from the leather of an exotic beast mixed with some kind of metal wire. It was simple and tough, perfectly fitting the tiger soul saber.

"Clang."

With a clear, ringing sound, Tiger Soul was sheathed.

All anomalies were instantly restrained. The saber returned to looking like a simple sheathed long saber, though its somber dark gold color and faint blood patterns still proclaimed its extraordinary nature.

Jiang Hanzhou strapped the saber to his back, securing it with a leather cord he had prepared.

Then, he took the contract voucher from his robe and handed it back to Iron Madman.

Throughout the entire process, he did not say a single word.

Iron Madman took the voucher, his gaze extremely complex as he looked at this silent guest.

There was the gratification of a precious saber finding its master, admiration for this solitary bravery, and... a hint of unspeakable pity and a sigh.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but it eventually turned into a barely audible sigh as he stepped aside to clear the path.

Jiang Hanzhou turned around.

He didn't look at Iron Madman again, nor did he pay any attention to the uncertain gazes of the other masters in the workshop.

He strode to the gunwale where he had boarded and looked down.

The skiff was still moored quietly in the shadows below.

He leaped down.

His straw raincoat flared out like a giant black leaf as he drifted down from the edge of the tall ship, landing precisely back on the skiff without even causing it to rock much.

He picked up the long oar.

He turned the boat around.

He began to row slowly back the way he came, toward the vast center of the river shrouded in darkness, rain, and countless lurking killing intents.

The shore fell into an eerie silence once again.

Everyone held their breath and widened their eyes, watching the skiff as it re-entered the darkness, watching that solitary figure standing with the saber on his back.

Take the saber, leave the ship, depart.

It was impossibly straightforward.

It was as if he really had just come to pick up a pre-ordered item and was now going home.

"He... he's just leaving like that?"

"Where are the White Dragon Gang people? Where are the Eight Great Vajras? Why haven't they come out yet?"

"Idiot! This is the Hundred Refinements Workshop's territory; out of Face for the Heavenly Craft Sect, no matter how arrogant the White Dragon Gang is, they wouldn't dare move openly! They must be waiting outside!"

"Right! Look at the middle of the river, isn't the mist thicker than before?"

"Not just the mist! Look at the torches on both banks... haven't several of them gone out?"

The crowd grew restless, whispers spreading like a tide.

Excitement, tension, fear, anticipation... all sorts of emotions intertwined.

Everyone knew that taking the saber was only the beginning.

The true death trap was outside.

In that dark river center being swallowed by thick fog, where the lights were going out one by one.

Jiang Hanzhou's skiff, unhurried, had already rowed about half a mile away from the ship.

He had completely left the range of the Hundred Refinements Workshop's lights.

Ahead, the river surface suddenly broadened, and the current seemed to grow calmer.

The rain grew thicker, pattering against his straw raincoat.

On the river, a milky-white mist had risen at some point. Initially just wisps, it soon merged into a single mass, spreading out and blurring the scenery near and far.

The scattered lights on both banks went out one by one.

The last bit of sky-light was completely swallowed by heavy rain clouds.

The entire world seemed to consist only of this skiff, this thick fog, and this endless night rain.

And...

A deathly silence.

Jiang Hanzhou stopped rowing.

The skiff glided slowly across the mirror-smooth river surface on its own momentum.

He stood quietly at the bow, the rain on his raincoat gathering into lines and dripping into the boat at his feet.

His bamboo hat was pulled low, the shadow covering most of his Face, revealing only a cold, hard jawline.

He seemed to be listening, or perhaps simply... waiting.

Waiting for that which was bound to come—

"Click."

A very faint, very crisp sound, like a dry branch snapping, or perhaps the clicking of a mechanical trigger.

It came from deep within the thick fog to his front-left.

It was so weak it was almost masked by the sound of the rain.

But Jiang Hanzhou's ear twitched slightly.

Almost at the same instant the sound rang out—

"Swish—!!!"

A dark shadow tore through the rain and fog, carrying a sharp, ear-piercing whistle as it shot electrically from that direction!

It was a crossbow bolt.

Forged of pure steel, its triangular armor-piercing tip glinted with a ghostly blue poisonous luster in the dark.

Its speed and power far exceeded that of ordinary bows and crossbows!

The arrow was aimed directly at Jiang Hanzhou's throat!

Immediately following the first arrow—

"Twang!" "Twang-twang-twang!" "Twang-twang-twang-twang—!!!"

From all directions, above and below, left and right, from the dark river surface shrouded in fog and the shadows of the banks, the dense, scalp-numbing vibration of bowstrings erupted like the sudden beat of a death god's war drum!

Countless cold stars burst forth simultaneously from the mist, from under the water, and from the banks!

Arrows, throwing darts, bone-piercing nails, poisoned blow-needles...

Every kind of deathly scream from every angle, covering every inch of space, completely submerged Jiang Hanzhou and the skiff beneath him like a sudden metal storm!

The death trap had finally appeared!