Chapter Eight: The Power to Battle Sharks, the Cold-Iron Spear!

The next day, it was discovered that someone was missing from the ship, and the Yan boats had vanished as well. The second mate personally took charge and searched the sea for any trace. It was not until dusk that three Yan boats were recovered; as for the missing men, there was no hope of finding them.

After this incident, Second Mate Bai Yuanjiu summoned all the sailors to the deck and subjected them to a harsh reprimand.

“No private fighting, no leaving the ship without permission, no covering up deaths... Damn it, is this really so hard?” Bai Yuanjiu’s face was marked by a hideous scar, his whole body seething with blood and energy, exuding a terrifying sense of oppression. “Anyone borrowing a Yan boat must report it!”

The sailors below stood silent as mice, not daring to utter a sound.

Yet a few days later, the matter was forgotten; no one remembered Zhou Yuan and the others. After all, they were not members of the Bai family, nor had they done anything noteworthy on the ship. In fact, some even breathed a sigh of relief—they no longer had to repay their debts.

Throughout all this, Bai Xuan remained silent. He was always a solitary figure, and now no one paid him any heed. No one suspected that he had killed Zhou Yuan and his companions.

Everyone on board knew that Zhou Yuan was a veteran, long adept at channeling his blood energy, with considerable strength. It was unthinkable that a youth like Bai Xuan could overpower him, let alone defeat three men working together; no one would ever suspect these young sailors.

Inside the cabin.

“These past few days spent quietly fishing have allowed me to accumulate a bit more Dao Intent,” Bai Xuan mused, and with a thought, the Everlasting Dao Tree materialized before him.

“This time, let’s invest it in ‘Shark Combat.’”

The wisp of Dao Intent merged, and in an instant, a new verdant leaf inscribed with the seal-script characters for “Shark Combat” unfurled.

Upon this leaf, several fierce scars crisscrossed like a net, radiating a biting chill.

Shark Combat (Entry 1%)

Hoo!

Bai Xuan’s muscles tightened, as if about to unleash a surge of even greater power.

Countless memories of battling giant beasts in the depths flooded his mind. These monsters, reminiscent of great white sharks, stretched five or six meters long—far more terrifying than demon fish. Their hides were impossibly tough, impervious to blade or sword.

Yet in these memories, Bai Xuan wielded only a harpoon. With a single swift movement, he slipped between two giant sharks, and with a strike as fleeting as a shooting star, drove the weapon deep into the skull of a beast—shattering bone with a thunderous roar!

Blood stained the abyss.

“Hah!” Bai Xuan leaned back slightly, emerging from the reverie, his body still reacting instinctively.

“What a powerful blow!” He could feel it...

The essence of “Shark Combat” contained no complex forms or variations—only the simplest, most direct thrust. Only such a strike could slay those oceanic leviathans.

If one tried to hack at a giant shark with a sword, how many lifetimes would it take to kill just one?

This attack was pure, efficient, rapid—a terrifying martial truth lay within, so clear even a child could perceive it.

Bai Xuan rose and practiced the move several times, though regretfully, he had no suitable weapon. The harpoon he’d used on the Yan boat had long since been twisted out of shape and discarded into the sea.

“If I’d possessed this Shark Combat technique that day, would I have needed to spar with Zhou Yuan? One thrust would have finished him—killing him as easily as swatting a fly.”

“To strengthen my combat ability, the simplest way is to get my hands on a weapon,” Bai Xuan concluded.

At sea, weapons were mostly blades and swords. After all, who had ever seen a pirate wielding a spear, meteor hammer, or nunchaku?

But the “Shark Combat” technique demanded a harpoon or something like a fish-gun—a weapon with a sharp point that could focus one’s entire force at a single spot.

Such weapons were designed to slay heavily armored, thick-blooded, tenacious foes—pure, efficient instruments of death.

“These are made for thrusting,” Bai Xuan determined.

“Yet for slashing, sweeping, striking... they’re perfectly serviceable, but the greatest power lies in a single stab.”

“The fish-guns on board would suffice in a pinch, but their quality is poor—they’re meant for spearing fish, not for killing men.”

In Bai Xuan’s mind, the best would be a weapon forged of true wrought iron or refined steel.

“Refined steel?”

Recently, Bai Huanghai had little to do and often chatted with Bai Xuan. When talk turned to weapons, he could only sigh.

“If we were at home, getting a weapon forged of meteorite iron would be a simple matter—just a question of silver.”

“But on this ship, exchanging for a new weapon is nearly impossible... Wait, I do remember seeing a cold-iron fish-gun once. Who knows why someone forged such a weapon? What a waste of fine material.”

Remembering this, Bai Huanghai slapped his thigh.

A harpoon made of cold-iron? The thought alone was laughable.

Cold-iron is an exceedingly rare, premium ore—its chill penetrates to the bone, and when quenched, it yields a remarkably tough metal that can bear explosive surges of energy.

To use such a treasure to forge a fish-gun was utterly senseless.

But Bai Xuan’s eyes lit up—for him, this would be the perfect weapon!

“The cold-iron fish-gun? Ah, you must mean Lu Ming’s weapon,” said Old Li from the other side.

“He was an outsider, a swordsman of some repute, who somehow acquired a cold-iron fish-gun. I heard he joined our crew hoping to hunt a giant shark, but never got the chance.”

“He later moved on, leaving the fish-gun behind in the ship’s storeroom. You can ask the quartermaster for it—it shouldn’t cost more than a few strings of cash.”

...

“That fish-gun?” The quartermaster frowned, searching through the inventory records before finally locating the entry.

“The cold-iron fish-gun, eh? Given the material, even at cost, it’s worth twenty taels of silver—the going rate for the raw ore.”

“Quartermaster, perhaps you could be flexible?” Bai Xuan said quietly, slipping five taels of silver under the table.

The quartermaster weighed the silver in his hand, his expression softening.

“Hmm... One iron fish-gun, wholesale price, two hundred cash.”

He made a sweeping note in the ledger.

“Go ahead, turn left inside—the weapons section is that way.”

Having accepted the silver, the quartermaster asked no further questions, merely waving Bai Xuan on, his tone now much more amiable.

“My thanks.”

Bai Xuan entered the storeroom. His eyes swept the area and quickly found the cold-iron fish-gun leaning against the wall.

“What a fine weapon!” Bai Xuan’s gaze sharpened.

Probably only he would recognize the true value of a cold-iron fish-gun on this ship.

Though dust-covered, its blade was nearly three feet long—more like a sharp sword than a mere spearhead, merging seamlessly with the shaft, part sword, part spear.

Clearly, this weapon had been forged to hunt giant beasts—no other reason for such a long blade.

“With a slash, this thing could split a man in two,” Bai Xuan thought.

He hefted the long weapon, shaking the dust free. The cold-iron patterns along its length glimmered dully, absorbing rather than reflecting any light. This was a pure, unadulterated instrument of slaughter.

“This is exactly what I need!”

Suppressing his excitement, Bai Xuan wrapped the cold-iron fish-gun in a rag, slung it across his back, and left the storeroom.

Fifteen days later.

Aboard the Yan boat.

Swish!

Holding the weapon in one hand, Bai Xuan pressed down; in that instant, a point of cold brilliance burst forth. The blade sliced through the air, power erupting in a fleeting moment, splitting even the air like water.

Swish, swish, swish!

Every move with the cold-iron spear was utterly simple—slash, chop, thrust... As speed and power combined, faint wisps of steam even rose from Bai Xuan’s back, his blood energy surging uncontrollably with these basic motions.

Fierce!

Swish!

The cold-iron spear suddenly left Bai Xuan’s hand with a sharp, piercing shriek. The surface of the water caved in as if punctured, blood mist spurting forth!

Moments later, a great fish floated up, belly white and exposed.

It was an ironhide fish, its head as tough as steel—yet now pierced clean through, the cold-iron spear driven deep to the spine. Just a single thrust had shattered its defenses.

Even steel would not withstand a blow like that!