Chapter 10: The Art of Flaying

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At dusk, as the setting sun painted the world with a warm hue, Jiang Chen set aside the Daoist text in his hands and exhaled a long, turbid breath beneath the peachwood tree in the small courtyard.

“This Breathing Incantation appears simple on the surface, yet it is a universal method, preserving the possibility for further advancement. Ordinary practitioners may progress step by step using its original form, while rare geniuses can derive their own unique techniques from it. In this respect, Jiang Wang’s line possesses an extraordinary legacy.”

Perceiving the transformations within himself, Jiang Chen could not help but marvel at the wonders of the Breathing Incantation. It seemed unremarkable, yet hidden within was a true treasure—whether one could discover it depended on their own ability.

After this session of cultivation, not only had his limbs been completely reforged, but even most of his torso had undergone tempering. The most difficult nodes had already been broken through; now, he needed only a bit more time to reach perfection naturally.

“Inheritance is the gathering of the heart’s blood. Compared to true wanderers, Jiang Wang’s starting point is much higher. It’s a pity he lacked perseverance and fortune.”

Flattening the Daoist text, Jiang Chen’s fingertips traced the annotations inscribed upon it. In his mind’s eye, he glimpsed the past—these notes were left by Jiang Wang’s teacher and forebears, recording their cultivation experiences and insights for the benefit of those who would come after. The Breathing Incantation itself was precious, but these annotations were even more so.

As for Jiang Wang, he had yet to add his own notes. Perhaps when he broke through to the Breathing stage, he would do so, and the depth of this inheritance would grow all the richer for it.

“Flaying Art—a new talisman technique. But unlike the Bloodflame Art, this one is incomplete.”

Turning to the final pages of the Daoist text, Jiang Chen’s gaze lingered on the recorded talisman. The Flaying Art was left by Jiang Wang’s master, Daoist White Crane. It had once been a genuine spell, but Daoist White Crane had attempted to simplify and derive it into a talisman, hoping to lay a stronger foundation for future cultivation during the Breathing stage. Unfortunately, he did not fully succeed, and what remained was but a fragment.

The essence of the Flaying Art lay in the control of vital energy. Practitioners at the Breathing stage had already opened their sea of energy and dantian, forging their own true energy, making cultivation of this art much easier. However, for those at the Inspiration stage, lacking true energy, the only option was to manipulate the ambient spiritual energy of heaven and earth—an undertaking of unimaginable difficulty.

For most cultivators, simply drawing spiritual energy to temper their bodies was already arduous and required meditation. To precisely control spiritual energy to perform the Flaying Art was all but impossible.

In fact, nearly all talisman techniques required a medium. For example, Jiang Chen’s Bloodflame Art needed the heart blood of a white stag to imprint a trace of spiritual resonance within. For Jiang Chen to continuously perform the Bloodflame Art, he had to regularly channel spiritual energy to nurture that resonance; once it was depleted and the flame mark on his chest faded, he would have to cultivate the art anew.

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“The Flaying Art left by Daoist White Crane is nearly complete; it’s just that its cultivation is too challenging for ordinary practitioners at the Inspiration stage to succeed.”

“Now that I have mastered the Bloodflame Art and possess a means of self-defense, and have made stillness a second nature such that even sleeping becomes cultivation, my efficiency has greatly increased. I might as well try to practice this art. My soul is strong—I do have an advantage here. Even if I fail, it will be of little consequence.”

Turning these thoughts over, Jiang Chen’s resolve solidified as he gazed at the Flaying Art. According to the Daoist text, both the Bloodflame and Flaying Arts were prerequisites for the inheritance. Mastering them in advance would be of great benefit to his cultivation during the Breathing stage, well worth the time and effort.

Previously, he had not prioritized this art because the outcome was uncertain and the effort might not match the reward. Now, however, he had the confidence to risk failure.

“It’s worth delving into the Flaying Art. If I succeed, I’ll have another trump card—one can never have too many of those.”

“But the true foundation remains cultivation itself. As long as I break through to the Breathing stage, all else will become moot.”

Glancing at the sky, now completely dark, Jiang Chen poured the now-cold spiritual tea at the base of the peachwood tree and turned to enter the house. Night had fallen—it was time to sleep, which was itself a form of cultivation. After a day spent studying the Daoist text, he felt exhaustion settle in, unnoticed at first, but now weighing upon his mind and spirit. Rest was in order.

As Jiang Chen drifted into slumber, the spiritual energy in the courtyard, once tranquil, began to flow in a mysterious pattern. With the spirit spring stone embedded in the well, the spiritual energy here was even stronger than before.

Nourished by this energy, Jiang Chen slept ever more deeply. With every breath, he harmonized with the natural cadence of the world, like a spiritual pine taking root, silently absorbing energy and gathering strength.

Peaceful days are always short-lived. While Jiang Chen was immersed in cultivation, pondering the Dao and drawing in spiritual energy each day, the chieftain of the River Marauders, Iron Man Tu, returned.

The moment he arrived, the undercurrents that had been roiling on Wooden Fish Island stilled instantly. As the leader of the River Marauders, his formidable presence was self-evident. At this juncture, Jiang Chen could no longer remain secluded, for Iron Man Tu had sent for him by name.

“Iron Man Tu, the chieftain?”

Sitting in the courtyard and listening to Skinny Monkey’s report, Jiang Chen fell into contemplation. For Iron Man Tu to have come alone to this Maze Bay, raised the River Marauders’ banner, and remained unshaken, making them a major force in Qinghe County, spoke to his remarkable skill and power. Even Jiang Chen, as he was now, was not fully confident of victory against him.

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While Jiang Chen was lost in thought, Skinny Monkey stood quietly by his side. He noticed that the headman seemed to have changed once again. On Chicken Cry Mountain, seeing the headman was like encountering a wild beast—one could not help but feel fear. Now, however, that feeling was gone, replaced by a sense of warmth and approachability that made one want to draw closer.

This realization startled Skinny Monkey into a shiver, causing him to hurriedly rein in his wandering thoughts. At that moment, Jiang Chen returned to himself.

“How did the task I assigned you go?” Jiang Chen asked, his gaze falling upon Skinny Monkey.

At once, Skinny Monkey nodded.

“Please rest assured, headman. With Bear Strength’s help, we’ve hunted a wild boar and a black bear. They’ll be delivered later.”

His voice low, Skinny Monkey reported their spoils.

Jiang Chen nodded in satisfaction—these were the materials he needed to test his hypothesis.

“Go and report that I will pay my respects to the chieftain tomorrow morning.”

Having no intention of leaving the River Marauders for now, Jiang Chen decided to meet their leader.