Chapter 15: The Little Notebook

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At midday, the sunlight was just right, radiating a gentle warmth. Beneath the peach tree, beside a stone table, Jiang Chen was engrossed in a book, turning the pages with care, his expression exceptionally focused. It was not a manual of martial arts nor a mysterious Daoist scripture, but simply a travelogue penned by the scion of a wealthy family, entitled "Wandering the Ends of the Earth." Within its pages were recorded the sights and customs of the Southern Realm, as well as fantastical tales of fox spirits and serpent demons.

Jiang Chen had specifically ordered his subordinates to collect such books, seeking to learn as much as he could about the outside world. He possessed several similar volumes, but most were filled with fanciful nonsense—endless adventures, beauties throwing themselves at the protagonist, all the product of idle imagination. This "Wandering the Ends of the Earth," however, held a certain charm, and Jiang Chen found himself reading with genuine pleasure.

It was this scene that Zhao Er beheld as he followed Stone into the small courtyard. Zhao Er was not unfamiliar with Jiang Wang; as Zhao Meng’s close confidant, he had naturally made it his business to understand this prominent figure. In fact, when Jiang Wang first joined the River-Roving Bandits and came under the wing of the Third Chief, Zhao Er had interacted with him on several occasions, and he himself had arranged for this very residence.

Yet now, as he watched Jiang Wang bathed in sunlight, absorbed in a book, Zhao Er felt a strange sense of unfamiliarity in his familiarity. The man was unchanged in appearance, no different than before, but his very bearing had subtly shifted.

Previously, Jiang Wang had seemed cold and indifferent, but there had been an undercurrent of obsession and madness in his bones. Now, however, Jiang Wang appeared utterly transformed—his aura serene, a quiet composure emanating from within.

Seeing him thus, Zhao Er could not help but feel a pang of self-doubt.

“A man such as this perhaps does not belong in a bandit’s den. He and I—no, we are not the same kind of people.”

For reasons he could not name, this thought arose unbidden in Zhao Er’s mind.

At that moment, Jiang Chen put down his book and looked over.

Their eyes met, and Zhao Er instinctively lowered his gaze.

“Fourth Chief, these are gifts sent by the Third Chief...”

His tone had subtly shifted. Bowing slightly, Zhao Er presented the prepared gifts.

Jiang Chen showed no particular reaction, but Stone, standing to one side, glanced at Zhao Er in mild surprise. Although news had spread among the River-Roving Bandits that Jiang Chen was soon to become the fourth chief—pending only his breakthrough in martial arts and a full three years overseeing the Golden Sands Mine—no one had yet openly addressed him as the Fourth Chief.

“This one is skilled in flattery,” thought Stone, averting his gaze, a vague sense of unease stirring within him.

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Meanwhile, as he examined the gifts Zhao Er had brought, Jiang Chen considered the situation.

He had never met Zhao Meng, the Third Chief, in person, but from the memories of his predecessor, Jiang Wang, he knew the man to be a true wolf among men—narrow-minded, harsh, and unkind, not someone easy to get along with. This gesture was therefore somewhat unusual.

Regardless, Jiang Chen betrayed nothing of his thoughts.

“Brother Zhao, please be seated.”

With a pleasant smile, Jiang Chen made a courteous gesture. Since his visitor had come with such humility, he saw no reason not to be gracious in return.

After a moment’s hesitation, Zhao Er smiled and took his seat.

Stone, as if suddenly enlightened, immediately brought out tea and two plates of pastries for the guests.

“Fourth Chief, it’s like this...”

After a few polite exchanges, once the atmosphere had grown amicable, Zhao Er relayed the message Zhao Meng had entrusted to him, embellishing it as he spoke. All the while, he watched Jiang Chen’s face for any reaction, proceeding with the utmost caution.

Jiang Chen, however, responded only with a polite “Thank you for the Third Chief’s concern,” revealing neither joy nor anger.

Seeing this, Zhao Er could only take his leave, sighing inwardly. For reasons he could not explain, he had felt distinctly uneasy sitting at the same table as Jiang Chen, almost as if he were on pins and needles.

“Alas, let’s hope things don’t take a turn for the worse. I have a feeling this man is far from simple...”

As he exited the courtyard, Zhao Er could not help but sigh.

Before coming, he had intended to be polite—but only as equals. If necessary, he had been prepared to assert himself, for he spoke on behalf of the Third Chief, Zhao Meng. Though Jiang Wang was favored by the chief, he had not yet reached the summit, and in terms of strength, Zhao Er believed they were evenly matched. Even if Jiang Wang broke through to the next level, catching up to the Third Chief would not be easy, for the Third Chief’s Seven Wounds Fist was particularly lethal in combat. Yet after meeting Jiang Wang face to face, Zhao Er found his attitude unconsciously changed.

After Zhao Er left, Jiang Chen picked up his teacup and took a sip.

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“There’s something off about this tea...”

Savoring the flavor, Jiang Chen recalled Zhao Er’s words and quickly understood: there were likely many secrets hidden within the Golden Sands Mine, all closely tied to the Third Chief, Zhao Meng.

But after only a moment’s thought, Jiang Chen dismissed the matter. It seemed troublesome, but in fact was simple. The reason: he was stronger than Zhao Meng.

With his current strength, only the chief, the Iron Man Tu, was worthy of his attention among the River-Roving Bandits. As long as he avoided falling into a trap or a deadly encirclement, he need not concern himself with the rest.

“News that Zhao Er, on behalf of the Third Chief, came to visit me will soon spread. This will send a clear signal: I am truly breaking away from the Third Chief’s faction.”

“Stone, find an opportunity to spread word of the items I’m seeking.”

His gaze lingered for a moment on the gifts Zhao Er had brought, and with a thought, Jiang Chen gave the order offhandedly.

Cultivation depended on four elements: wealth, companions, methods, and place. Of these, Jiang Chen truly possessed only the method. His progress seemed swift, but that was largely due to his own talent. To advance further and more steadily, wealth was indispensable—indeed, compared to the average cultivator, he required even more resources.

Because of his exceptional talent, he could make better use of resources, practice more techniques. Even though the River-Roving Bandits were mere water bandits, their spoils were considerable, as evidenced by Zhao Er’s gifts: a bottle of elixirs, a rare Eastern pearl, a piece of fine jade, and a century-old ginseng root.

The first two were treasures of great value; the last, a rare and precious boon for a martial artist, greatly nourishing the body and aiding cultivation.

Hearing Jiang Chen’s instructions, Stone hesitated for a moment, then nodded quickly.

“Remember to keep one register for those who send gifts, and another for those who do not.”

As his gaze swept over Stone, Jiang Chen added this. Those who brought gifts were not necessarily truly loyal, but those who did not certainly were not close to him. It was important, after all, to distinguish between friend and foe.

At this, Stone bowed once more and replied in the affirmative.