Chapter Forty-Seven: Mastery of the Bronze Skin, Traces of the Devout
As the point descended, the Tree of Longevity flourished in an instant, its branches and leaves luxuriant. The leaves representing Bronze Skin radiated with dazzling brilliance, subtly outlining a luminous silhouette that seemed utterly indestructible.
Boom!
White Xuan’s skin was like a vaulted canopy; in a flash, azure scales surfaced, their countless patterns stark and profound as ancient bronzeware, emanating a mysterious and ominous aura.
A tremor coursed through his flesh, power surging forth, and within inches around him, the ground shattered as though struck by a mighty hammer.
“Huff…”
White Xuan exhaled, and with a backward motion, struck his own chest with his palm—seventy percent of his strength behind the blow. The spiral force manifested, and with a resounding crack, a burst of energy exploded beneath his hand. The impact thundered, but the blue scales on his chest remained utterly unscathed, vanishing back beneath the skin.
“Bronze Skin has reached its peak, and Azure Scale Art is also undergoing some kind of metamorphosis,” he sensed keenly.
Originally, the Azure Scale Art had only three levels, its pinnacle reached after three breakthroughs in vital energy. Yet now, with this one step, its potential had already surpassed that former limit!
Now, even if faced with a barrage of arrows from powerful crossbows, as long as his vital energy was not depleted, ordinary repeating crossbows would be as useless as straw before him.
With a sweep of his hand, Black iron-blue surged over his palm, swelling broad as a fan, his blood and energy brimming with nearly unparalleled might. In the next moment, as if some boundary were breached, it instantly reverted, the skin smooth and fair as polished jade.
The power of Iron Sand Palm had reached its zenith!
He pressed his palm downward with a light bang, a shockwave bursting forth. A massive boulder beside his hand crumbled instantly to dust, cascading away like fine sand.
“If I were to meet Qian Yuan now, a single strike would be enough to end him. Even if he fought with all his strength, he wouldn’t be able to harm me in the slightest,” White Xuan thought with joy, clenching his fist.
The advancement of Bronze Skin was akin to donning a suit of heavy cold-iron armor that enveloped his entire body, impervious to water, fire, blades, or swords. Yet, like an iron cage, it also bound his vital energy.
“With strength like this, if I had my own warship, I could roam the seas freely. Even without one, should the Bai family fall and Thousand Mountain Island collapse, I could escape by water alone, preserving my life at the very least.”
“Still, a tall tree provides ample shade. The Bai family and Thousand Mountain Island are relatively safe for now, offering a place to quietly hone my martial path and steadily strengthen myself.”
White Xuan was well aware.
His next step was to enhance his other physical arts, to bring his vital energy to perfection, and break through the threshold between life and death.
…
The following day.
White Xuan was just stepping outside when he suddenly sensed someone watching him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed, not far away, several brown-clad men standing at the entrance of another small courtyard, watching him from a distance.
These men struck White Xuan as cold and sinister, their eyes betraying a hidden fanaticism.
“Spying on me?”
He narrowed his gaze slightly.
These men had appeared mysteriously on Thousand Mountain Island; he had heard their names more than once, and now they were near his own courtyard. He had already been on alert since last night.
Now that his Bronze Skin was complete, even a volley of crossbow bolts would not harm him, but caution was still needed. Their unexplained presence could well threaten his safety.
“I’ll head to the family training hall first.”
After a moment’s thought, White Xuan strode out.
…
A short while later.
In the small courtyard of Marquis White Brow’s training hall.
“The Seven Seas Society?”
Bai Tianyuan was taken aback. “I think I’ve heard of them, but not in detail. Supposedly, they’re a charitable religious sect with some connection to the Yang family.”
“These kinds of societies are usually easy to join. If you’re interested, I can find someone to recommend you.”
Bai Tianyuan, a peer of Bai Tiannian, came from the same lineage and now served as third officer on the ‘Kaiyuan.’ He trained diligently, and in recent times, had grown closer to White Xuan.
“I understand,” White Xuan nodded.
He said no more and continued to practice the Tiger Pounce Step with focus.
…
Evening.
Within a certain courtyard.
“This sandalwood spirit tablet embodies Heaven, Earth, and the vast oceans—a proper deity, rightly venerated. Worshiping this spirit ensures lifelong safety and smooth sailing!”
Bang, bang, bang!
A brown-clad man was earnestly persuading an old fisherman when three knocks sounded at the door.
He straightened up and exchanged a look with his companion.
One of them understood at once, stood up, and quickly covered the idol with a cloth before cautiously peering out.
Bang!
The door was suddenly pushed open, startling everyone inside.
A tall youth entered, his gaze sweeping coldly across the room.
“Has something happened?”
The group tensed, and some faces even paled, unable to hide their alarm.
But in the next instant—
“Why are you all so nervous?” White Xuan narrowed his eyes then suddenly smiled. “I’m just here to deliver fish to Old Chen. And you are?”
He carried a fish basket containing two star-stone groupers.
“We’re... er, we’re brothers from the Seven Seas Society. Have you heard of us? We’re all about kindness, helping the old and caring for the young…” the bearded leader quickly responded, laughing heartily to ease the tension. His words flowed smoothly as he introduced the Seven Seas Society’s benevolence, and the other companions joined in with forced laughter.
The atmosphere immediately relaxed.
Old Chen, of course, was the fisherman.
“Thank you, Xuan, for bringing me fish so late,” Old Chen grinned, his face a mass of wrinkles.
He had no idea what had happened—he’d been worshipping the sandalwood idol, and the sight of the fish had made him forget everything else.
As the group grew comfortable again, White Xuan, wearing a faint smile, suddenly asked, “When I came in, I think I saw you all worshipping something—what was it?”
Tension snapped back into the air; several men froze, hands instinctively moving to their waists.
“Haha, it’s nothing. Just worshipping the spirit tablets for Heaven, Earth, Lord, Kin, and Teacher. What could be strange about that?” The bearded leader again responded first, beads of sweat forming at his brow. He laughed and quickly lifted the covering cloth, revealing a wooden plaque inscribed with the five characters: “Heaven, Earth, Lord, Kin, Teacher.”
“So that’s all it is!” White Xuan smiled and said nothing more.
A short while later.
White Xuan mingled easily with these self-claimed Seven Seas Society members, chatting and laughing for a while before being warmly seen out. They assured him they would invite him to the next gathering.
But after he left, as Old Chen saw him out, the bearded leader’s expression turned cold and sinister inside the courtyard.
“Keep a better watch on the door—anyone was able to walk right in. If it had been an assassin or a constable, we’d have been in trouble!” he hissed.
“Yes, big brother!” The others bowed their heads, chastened.
“Luckily, I reacted quickly. Since that young man really is a local fisherman, we’ll invite him to the gathering in a few days. One more sacrifice can only be good,” he said with chilling malice.
He turned the “Heaven, Earth, Lord, Kin, Teacher” tablet over, revealing a carved outline of a deity with wings and a body wreathed in twisting tentacle patterns—strange and mysterious.
He had no reason to doubt White Xuan’s identity; as far as their information went, White Xuan really was a fisherman living nearby.
…
“It would be easy enough to kill these people,” White Xuan thought, frowning as he returned to his courtyard.
He had entered swiftly and, seeing the sandalwood idol’s faint tentacle-like patterns, recognized them. He was almost certain: even if these men were not direct followers of the Sea God, they were at least its subordinates.
His impression of the Sea God cult was profound—both times he’d encountered them, there had been only slaughter and madness.
“Yet these are but small fry. Killing them would accomplish nothing; I need a way to eliminate them all at once.”
He did not underestimate them. They might seem insignificant, but behind them lurked the Sea God cult itself. Whether it was the monstrous shark or those many fanatical martial artists, they were all extremely dangerous.