Chapter Forty-Three: Departing from Seaside City, the Demon Shark Appears

At the harbor of Mirage City, a few black-clad pirates were laughing among themselves, paying no attention to the departing boat. Once a vessel left the city’s bounds, it was no longer their concern.

“When the snipe and the clam quarrel, the fisherman profits… Forget it, I have no mind to fish for trouble today.”

Bai Xuan shook his head, uninterested in further entanglement, and steered his boat away from Mirage City. What he needed now was the authentic footwork technique; as for those like the “Eagle Claw Iron Shirt,” he had no use for them at the moment. Getting involved would only mean pointless trouble. With his skill at the helm, he guided the black-sailed boat out to sea.

“Back to fishing—the next trace of Dao insight is about to condense.”

He let the boat drift with the current, holding a green bamboo rod in hand as he fished. The progress of fishing seemed to quicken the formation of his Dao insight.

Splash!

A flying crab was hauled up, its pincers still snapping. But Bai Xuan’s gaze suddenly sharpened as he looked out over the water.

Not far away, a boat was adrift, bodies floating around it on the waves. Some had been struck down by crossbow bolts, their corpses bobbing up and down, blood blooming on the surface. In the distance, another corpse drifted closer.

“What’s going on here?”

Bai Xuan’s brows knitted in a frown. He tossed the crab into the cabin, alert and wary. These people had clearly been caught in a deadly conflict and slain with ruthless efficiency—crossbow bolts struck from behind, leaving no chance to escape.

Soon, as Bai Xuan surveyed the waters, he counted six or seven corpses, all killed the same way—crossbow bolts through the back, bodies adrift.

“These are no ordinary murderers. They’re more vicious than I am.”

Bai Xuan set down his fishing rod and stood up, spotting several small boats patrolling nearby, sealing off this stretch of sea as they sped in his direction.

Soon enough, the boats drew near. The leader wore a brown robe with faint tentacle patterns at the hem; his voice was dry and grating.

“Stay back. The Sea God Sect is conducting official business. No one is allowed to approach.”

Not a word was said about the dead floating on the water, as if it had nothing to do with them.

“Very well.”

Bai Xuan narrowed his eyes but complied without protest. Yet, as soon as he turned his boat, a sudden whistling of arrows split the air, shrill and deadly!

Swish!

Bai Xuan spun with lightning speed, three throwing knives colliding midair with the crossbow bolts, sending them plunging into the waves.

One of the men wielded a repeating crossbow, firing at him intent on killing.

“I knew it.”

“These people are determined to kill at sea—who knows what scheme they’re plotting… The Sea God Sect truly is a den of madmen.”

“Unfortunately for them, they won’t kill me.”

Having anticipated danger, Bai Xuan stamped his foot and the black-sailed boat shot forward like an arrow. In a flash, he leaped out!

“Impressive strength, but it’s wasted—Sea God's pet needs fresh blood. You’ll die here, too!”

The leader’s dry voice rang out as the Sea God devotees, disciplined as soldiers, raised their crossbows in unison.

Thump-thump-thump!

The repeating crossbows fired, bolts whistling through the air—so fierce that even a seasoned expert would hesitate before such firepower.

But Bai Xuan’s palms struck out, his hands sheathed in a green-black iron hue. The bolts clanged off, snapping like brittle stalks and flying away harmlessly.

“Iron Sand Palm? Pathetic!”

The leader cast aside his crossbow and punched, red lines flaring across his fist—nine in all, arranged in sequence.

This was the legendary “Nine-Ring Red Line Fist,” a hardcore martial art only achievable after three breakthroughs in vital energy. Each line represented another layer of power, ninefold strength in a single punch.

But in the next instant, with a thunderous crash, the sect leader took Bai Xuan’s palm head-on. It was as if struck by a charging herd; he was hurled sideways, bones cracking, organs shattered. The small boat rocked like a leaf, and under his mask, terror twisted his face.

“How can this be?!”

He had always been nearly invincible among his peers, but Bai Xuan’s palm was an unimaginable force—no one of equal rank could withstand it.

His fist bore several rings with twisted, poisoned spikes, now flattened by that single strike, failing to harm Bai Xuan in the slightest.

Swish!

Another Sea God devotee lunged, launching a punch that released a dense, choking smoke.

“Superior hallucinogenic powder!”

Bai Xuan landed back on the boat, inhaling a whiff that made him slightly dizzy. This smoke was far more potent than his own, its effects astonishing.

“Fortunately, this is happening at sea. If these people caught me elsewhere, they’d be truly troublesome.”

A murderous intent surged within him.

He drew upon his inner breath, exhaling a gale that instantly swept the smoke away. He blocked three more crossbow bolts, then stepped forward, his palm slicing through the fog with a swirling, cunning force.

Bang!

His palm struck aside his opponent’s arms and landed squarely on the man’s chest.

Crunch!

The devotee staggered back, blood gushing from his mouth, horror and unwillingness mingling in his eyes. Bai Xuan’s palm crashed down, caving in his chest, pulverizing bone and organ alike. The force tossed the boat on the waves, sending up a spray several meters high.

“Sea God protect me, divine will undying!”

The remaining two devotees did not retreat; instead, they chanted feverishly, blood surging as they charged.

“Die.”

Bai Xuan’s palms engulfed the area, inner breath surging, unleashing strength of over ten thousand pounds. In a flash, both men’s skulls were shattered.

In mere moments, four opponents lay dead, all on a single small boat, his control and mastery of power flawless even in close quarters.

Bai Xuan felt a slight dizziness, but it faded as he circulated his inner breath.

“As expected, with inner breath, such sinister tricks are no longer much threat. No matter how disciplined or mysterious they are, it’s useless.”

He stepped over the bodies, searching them quickly. Apart from crossbows, smoke bombs, and poisons, there was little of value—only a sandalwood idol, the same Sea God figure he’d seen before in the ruined temple on that island.

He lifted the octopus mask, and his gaze hardened. Each face bore strange mutations—fish-like gills and twitching tentacles, not yet fully dead, a truly bizarre sight.

“These devotees of the Sea God face death unflinchingly, and their strength is formidable.”

Bai Xuan frowned, crushing their chests and skulls one by one, tossing the corpses into the sea.

“Who knows what they’ve ingested to make themselves look so grotesque. I’ll have to be wary of such opponents in the future.”

He remained highly alert.

Their origins were enigmatic, their methods ruthless, and their bloodlust boundless. Should he encounter them again, he would have to strike first and eliminate them without hesitation.

He dipped the oar and steered his boat away, avoiding this stretch of sea.

“Best to leave for now.”

Bai Xuan did not recklessly venture into the area just for having killed a few Sea God devotees.

“Of all strategies, withdrawal is best.”

“Kill and run—what fool stays to fight the main force?”

He remained cool-headed.

When he’d fought on Qian Yuan’s ship, it was because the storm-tossed island left no escape—only a desperate slaughter for survival.

But now, this fight had nothing to do with him. Risking his life here would be sheer madness.

Bai Xuan piloted his black-sailed boat away at speed.

Beneath the deep blue, however, a vast shadow—more than ten meters long—glided swiftly through the water, crossing Bai Xuan’s path and heading straight toward the area he had avoided.

Elsewhere.

At sea.

The man in the Dragon King mask had rowed more than ten miles out. The sea was now a net—seven small boats encircled him, each crewed by a masked devotee in brown robes, all drawing gleaming crossbows and aiming at his canopy.

Swish, swish, swish!

Crossbow bolts rained down, tearing through the canopy. There came a wet, muffled sound, as if piercing flesh, followed by something collapsing inside.

“Go check.”

The leader’s voice was dry. Another approached, peered inside, and found it empty—only a sack of fish, now pierced by bolts.

Splash!

A figure burst from the water, hurling six or seven pellets. The pursuers blocked hastily, but the pellets burst with a bang, releasing thick smoke that quickly engulfed the area.

“Hallucinogenic smoke!”

This smoke was even more potent than their own; once inhaled, the pursuers’ limbs went limp, their bodies nearly collapsing.

Swish, swish, swish!

“Shadowstep!”

The Dragon King-masked man’s form blurred, moving with such speed that he slipped past the crossbow bolts unharmed.

“Flying Needle!”

Spinning through the air, he flung a rain of needles from beneath his robes; with a hiss, the needles punched through the boats, some even piercing straight through with a clang.

The volley struck home—blood spattered as six or seven men were run through.

“Lu Ming!”

The leader, not yet dead, let out a hoarse roar. “You stole our sacred text, the ‘Abyssal Body-Refining Technique’—you may escape for now, but not forever!”

“Sea God, protect me!”

Blood surged through his body like a tidal wave, his vital energy bursting thrice over as he streaked toward the falling Lu Ming.

“Sea God devotee—must die!”

Lu Ming’s bones rang out like thunder, sending ripples through the air that paralyzed his foe for a heartbeat.

Dragon Roar Iron Shirt!

Swish!

His long blade flashed—a white arc as he closed in with Shadowstep, decapitating his enemy in a single stroke. Blood rained down as the sea fell once more into silence. Over a dozen bodies floated—clearly, other experts had ambushed him earlier, only to die at his hand.

“Persistent wraiths. No high priest among them—these beasts must be plotting something, unable to spare their top fighters.”

Lu Ming sheathed his blade, the thunder in his bones fading. In his eyes, hatred burned deep; after a moment’s meditation, his voice grew resolute.

“If that’s the way it is, they still won’t kill me!”

He knew the Sea God devotees’ methods inside out—he could wield them even better than they could. Unless a top master intervened, he was confident of victory.

He rowed away, but soon his eyes narrowed—he saw several small boats adrift, the bodies of Sea God devotees floating around, their skulls pierced and bones shattered like broken sacks.

“What incredible palm strength!”

Lu Ming’s expression was one of awe as he studied the scene—even with his own power, he felt a shock.

“That palm must have carried over ten thousand pounds of force. Even a half-step grandmaster would not dare take it head-on. Who could this master be?”

“As expected, there’s always someone stronger. Even with the ‘Abyssal Body-Refining Technique,’ I might not withstand such a blow.”

He marveled inwardly.

Suddenly, his face changed.

“This is bad—how many have the Sea God devotees killed?”

He saw the other corpses adrift, the blood spreading far and wide.

“With so much blood… the demon sharks are surely coming!”

Splash!

The waves rippled, a massive shadow gliding beneath the water and speeding toward this very spot.