Chapter 663 - 14: Tarlu

After getting the news and clarifying the details, Chen Chuan checked out of his room and went to the Sheriff’s residence. The Sheriff enthusiastically led him to a private dock.

A sailboat was moored there. The boatman was a sturdy, dark-skinned man. His face was covered in wrinkles, making him look old, but his physical condition suggested he was not yet forty.

According to the Sheriff, the boatman was originally a resident of Feiguang Island. Although his family had since moved to Luo Wang Island, he was very familiar with the area, so there was no need to worry.

Chen Chuan noticed the boatman seemed somewhat reluctant, yet he also appeared to fear the Sheriff, giving him a begrudging air.

He gave a small smile, stepped onto the boat, and sat down inside.

The Sheriff took off his hat and waved, wishing him a safe journey.

Chen Chuan nodded back in acknowledgment.

As an out-of-town tourist, he had been mentally prepared to be swindled and had already planned how to deal with it. Surprisingly, though, the Sheriff hadn’t tried any tricks.

In truth, it was common for island residents and officials to rip off tourists. It would be stranger if they didn’t. This particular Sheriff, however, didn’t dare try it with him.

The Sheriff had been in his position for a long time and had seen all sorts of travelers, so he had a sharp eye. One look at Chen Chuan was enough to tell he was a powerful Fighter.

He might dare to swindle an ordinary person, but if he tried to swindle a Fighter, his entire family would likely be killed the very next day.

This wasn’t just an idle threat; it was exactly how his predecessor had died. He had learned his lesson: don’t offend a Fighter if you can help it. And besides, Chen Chuan had paid him.

The sailboat swayed as it headed out to sea. A sharp CHIRP came from the sky as Chaoming followed along overhead.

About half an Hour after the boat set out, Luo Wang Island had already shrunk in the distance behind them. Suddenly, the sea began to churn violently, and the sailboat bucked. The startled boatman immediately prostrated himself on the deck, chanting, "Erlu, Erlu."

Chen Chuan had been on Luo Wang Island for the past two days, so he knew "Erlu" was the name of the legendary sea monster. ’It’s strange, though. He’s praying to the name of an undersea monster instead of the goddess.’

’The trembling of the sea came on very suddenly. It doesn’t feel like an earthquake, and the wind on the sea is normal...’

’Something under the sea?’

He glanced around, lost in thought.

After just a few minutes, the strange disturbance in the water stopped. The boatman stood up, still muttering under his breath. After a moment, he wiped the sweat from his brow and resumed handling the sails.

There were many reefs and small islets near Luo Wang Island, and plenty of boats traveled the area. Just then, Chen Chuan saw a cluster of sailboats and rowboats circling near a small island, as if they were looking for something.

He asked, "What are they doing over there?"

The boatman answered in stiff Dashun Language, "Salvaging a ring."

Chen Chuan asked a few more questions and learned that a tourist had dropped a wedding anniversary ring into the sea. The tourist had offered a reward of fifty thousand Jianyuan Coins to whoever recovered it, which was why so many people were trying their luck.

’Fifty thousand is no small sum. It’s a lot of money even in Central City, let alone out here. No wonder so many people have shown up.’ He smiled and asked the boatman, "Haven’t you tried?"

The boatman shook his head and said flatly, "For over twenty years, the goddess has never once favored me." After that, he said little else.

The boat had departed shortly after five in the morning. By a little after ten, a volcanic island appeared on the horizon.

The boatman pointed ahead. "Feiguang Island."

Chen Chuan stood up and looked into the distance. He could see a cone-shaped crater with thick mist rising from the island, making it look like an erupting volcano from afar. ’No wonder the locals are unwilling to come here.’

’And that’s my destination.’

The boatman saw him standing perfectly steady, seemingly unaffected by the boat’s rocking, and a trace of awe appeared in his eyes. Around twelve o’clock, the boat finally drew near the island.

He could now see the island clearly. The surrounding water was crystal clear, and under the brilliant sun, he could see colorful coral below. The cone-shaped crater was surrounded by lush, green vegetation.

Once they were close, the boatman lowered the sail and began to row, finally stopping at a beach that was a mix of sand and rock.

Seeing this, Chen Chuan took out a stack of Jianyuan Coins and handed them to the boatman. "Thanks. I’ll be staying here for a while. You can head back."

The boatman was taken aback, clearly not expecting to be paid for a job arranged by the Sheriff. A genuine smile spread across his face. He thought for a moment and said, "Sir, you can follow the path paved with white pebbles. If the path disappears, just follow the road signs, and you’ll find the people on the island. They’ll show you the way."

Chen Chuan thanked him again, then leaped from the boat onto the beach. A strong wind blew from the island, carrying a cool, refreshing sensation from the distant forest.

He scanned the area and, about a kilometer away, found the path of white pebbles the boatman had mentioned.

He didn’t head there immediately. Instead, he made a gesture. After a moment, the sound of beating wings filled the air as Chaoming descended from the sky, landed in front of him, and came closer.

He reached out to stroke it, then took a tube of Nutrition Paste from his pocket, opened it, and fed it to Chaoming. He also gave it some water from a special flask. After a short rest, Chaoming spread its wings and flew back into the sky.

He ate a few tubes of Nutrition Paste himself and rehydrated before heading in that direction, where he spotted the road sign the boatman had mentioned.

It was a sign made of polished, broken bones tied together. The pointed end indicated a specific direction, and the path at his feet stretched forward, leading deep into the forest.

He picked up his Snow Monarch Blade and followed the direction of the sign. The pebble path beneath his feet was intermittent, sometimes there and sometimes not, but by following the recurring signs, he never strayed from the correct course.

After walking for about seven or eight kilometers, he came upon a grass-thatched corridor, from which a young man emerged. The man was bare-chested, revealing fine muscles, and his dark skin glistened with oil.

He held a staff painted with colorful oils. He looked Chen Chuan over and said in fluent Dashun Language, "Sir, this is private territory ahead. If you’re here to tour the island, you can go that way..." He pointed with his staff. "There’s a village over there that can receive you."

Chen Chuan said, "I’m here to see Tarlu."

This Tarlu was a member of the Pure Sect and the inheritor of the Single Stream Hall, one of the Twenty-One Halls of the Outer Ocean Islands. According to the old Grand Alliance regulations, if a School with a lineage from the old era failed to produce a Fighting Master for three consecutive generations—a period of sixty years—then that School’s lineage would no longer be recognized by the Grand Alliance.

Any of its inherited fighting resources related to the Third Limit or above would have to be surrendered to the Grand Alliance. Of course, the Grand Alliance would provide corresponding compensation in money or materials.

This rule was later adopted by the various national governments and corporations.

However, more than a hundred years ago, even before the Grand Alliance was established, the Single Stream Hall lineage had already stopped producing Fighting Masters. According to the School’s own records, this was because the Rift that had been passed down since the old era had vanished, preventing any Fighters from inheriting the hall’s advanced Secret Transmissions.

In reality, that wasn’t the case. The Rift hadn’t truly vanished; it had merely moved, which led to the decline of the entire Fighting Hall. But in a twist of fate, the Rift was eventually found by a successor who had searched for it relentlessly. This person was the current Tarlu’s master, who later joined the Pure Sect and voluntarily offered the Rift for use by promising individuals within the sect.

Hearing him mention Tarlu, the young man grew wary. "You know Tarlu?"

Chen Chuan said, "Please tell her that Mr. Zhuan sent me."

The young man studied him for a moment, then whistled. A small, skinny, but very nimble boy ran over. The young man pointed at Chen Chuan and whispered a few words in the local dialect. The boy nodded, darted into the woods, and quickly disappeared.

Chen Chuan waited for about ten minutes before an old man wearing a headband and loose-fitting cloth garments walked out. The young man immediately bowed and said, "Apa."

The old man walked up to Chen Chuan, clasped his fists in a salute, and spoke politely in fluent Dashun Language, "Sir, you know Mr. Zhuan? May I ask if you have any proof?"

Chen Chuan took the Pig-Nosed Dragon from his pocket. The moment the old man saw it, his expression became incredibly reverent. He bowed deeply and said, "Sir, please follow me." With that, he stepped aside and made an inviting gesture.

Chen Chuan nodded and followed the old man. They crossed a small stream and walked up a gently sloping mountain path, arriving at a wide-open area after a few hundred meters.

Here stood many ancient buildings made of stacked stone. They were clearly quite old; most of the paint had peeled away, and what were once decorative latticework holes were now filled with only rotting, fragmented wood. However, the patterned stone tiles on the ground and some of the weathered stone carvings still hinted at their original exquisite craftsmanship.

In the clearing in front of the buildings, there was a tall woman of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. She had an athletic build, a healthy flush on her cheeks, and a pleasant, enduring beauty.

She was dressed in a white training uniform, her skin a sun-kissed bronze. Beneath thick eyebrows, her eyes were exceptionally bright and full of spirit. She was currently instructing a group of young people, which included many teens and children.

’This must be Tarlu.’

Tarlu was just a title. Each generation’s successor to the Single Stream Hall tradition would forsake their birth name and adopt this one.

Chen Chuan didn’t interrupt, instead moving to stand under a shaded veranda to the side. The old man brought him some coconut juice and local fruits, which he accepted with a word of thanks.

After about half an hour, Tarlu finished her instruction. She touched her thumbs together and joined her palms, letting out a sharp, clear cry. In response, everyone mirrored her posture, gave a sharp cry of their own, and bowed to her before dispersing.

Once they had left, Tarlu walked over to where Chen Chuan was standing.

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