Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Chapter 88 Introduction to Fork Techniques, The Terrifying Reputation of the Gray Hemp Pirates

The grey water surface shimmered with a cold, eerie light.

Mark stood at the bow of the boat, holding a hardwood harpoon, and gestured a couple of times towards the water.

"You can't just spear a fish with brute force."

He pressed the fork at an angle against his forearm, slightly lowered his waist and hips, and deflected the fork tip half an inch off the direction of the water's reflection.

"You can never see the right spot underwater. Light can deceive you; you have to aim for about half a palm's width in front of its belly."

Xilun leaned against the ship's railing and nodded slightly.

It's been two weeks.

Mark would demonstrate this every time he set sail.

How to grip the rod, how to release the force, and how to use the frequency of the boat's swaying to find the right angle for penetration.

This old sailor may have a sharp tongue, but his hands were incredibly skilled, each stroke honed from decades of making a living on the river.

Mark stabbed again with the fork, the tip went into the water silently, and when he pulled it up, a white-scaled fish was still thrashing between the fork teeth.

"See? Steady, accurate, and fast—all three are indispensable. Give it a try."

Xilun took the harpoon.

The fork handle has a forward-leaning center of gravity and a rough wood grain, providing a solid, tactile feel against the palm.

He stared at the water.

A silvery-white fish shadow slid past the bottom of the boat at a considerable speed.

Xilun didn't move.

My mind was racing through all the details Mark had taught me over the past two weeks—the angle of the grip, the timing of the fork, and the amount of correction for light deflection.

These scattered fragments of experience suddenly strung together into a line.

Deep within the retina, a stream of deep red data flashed.

[Skill: Basic Fork Techniques (Beginner)]

[Progress: 0/100]

【Features: Suitable for water combat, highly mobile and versatile, with lightning-fast fork speed!】

Xilun tightened his grip on the fork bar with his five fingers, his waist and hips suddenly sank, and his arm lashed out like a whip.

The fork tip cut through the water with almost no splash.

When it was lifted up, a white-scaled fish about two fingers wide was firmly pinned to the fork teeth. The fish flicked its tail twice and then stopped moving.

Mark was stunned.

He looked at the fish in Xilen's hand, then at Xilen's hand.

"Your skills—you've got a foundation, haven't you?"

Xilun tossed the fish into the barrel.

"I learned it from you."

Mark chuckled, half-believing, half-doubting, but couldn't hide the smile on his face.

"Teaching by example can also be used to practice martial arts..."

Xilun silently memorized this.

The progress on the panel jumped a few numbers. Although it wasn't much, it proved one thing: as long as someone teaches you in a practical way, even the most rudimentary technique can be recognized as effective experience by the panel.

This is much faster than figuring it out on your own.

In the afternoon, the catch filled more than half a bucket.

Mark signaled to the crew to haul in the net and prepare for the return journey.

As Xilun was putting the fork back onto the iron hook on the side of the boat, he caught a glimpse of a dark shadow in the distance on the river.

Mark saw it too.

His expression changed, and he arched his back as if he had been whipped, shouting in a low voice.

"Quick! Move to the side! Get into the reeds!"

The sailors on the ship were taken aback.

Mark gave them no time to react, shoving the rudder and sending the small fishing boat veering sharply toward the riverbank.

The boat was small and had a shallow draft, barely managing to squeeze into a dense reed bed on the shore.

The reeds scraped against the boat planks with a grating creak, and Mark waved for everyone to crouch down and be quiet.

Xilun crouched below the gunwale, peering at the river through the gaps in the reeds.

A wide-bodied cargo ship was approaching from upstream; it was three or four times larger than Mark's fishing boat and had a very deep draft.

There were about a dozen people standing on the deck, each with a knife at his waist, and two of them were carrying long-barreled muskets.

A man with a scarred face stood at the very front of the bow.

The scar stretched from the corner of his left eye all the way down to his jaw, with the skin and flesh turned outwards, like a centipede crawling on his face.

Those eyes swept across the river, cold and sharp.

Xilun gripped the pistol handle at his waist.

The ship is getting closer and closer.

No one dared to breathe in the reeds.

The cargo ship passed less than thirty paces in front of their hiding place, the waves it kicked up stern crashing against the reeds, causing the fishing boat to rock.

Scarface's gaze swept across the reeds, pausing for half a second.

Siron's thumb was already on the hammer.

But that gaze eventually shifted away.

The cargo ship did not stop, but sailed straight downstream and gradually disappeared behind the bend in the river.

Mark's forehead was covered in sweat.

He waited a full two minutes before he dared to straighten up.

"Let's go back!"

Without even bothering to haul in the nets or empty the fish buckets, Mark spun the rudder full speed, and the fishing boat emerged from the reeds, hurtling along the riverbank at full speed toward the dock.

The ship docked, and Mark jumped onto the pier, finally letting out a long sigh of relief.

A sailor came up to ask.

"Captain, who is that? Why are you so afraid?"

Mark turned around and glared at him.

"Grey Hemp Pirates, do you understand?"

The sailor's face turned pale.

Mark wiped the sweat from his face and said in a low voice.

"If you encounter pirates, go around them, that's the rule. Those guys are not only numerous and ruthless, they also have cannons on their ships. Our dilapidated ship would rock back and forth if hit by one shot, the frame would almost fall apart."

He frowned and glanced downstream.

"I just don't know what Grey Hemp and his gang are up to."

Xilun did not linger at the dock.

He remembered this lesson, returned to the Golden Rooster Hotel to change into his training clothes, and headed straight for the Iron Cross Club.

Two full weeks have passed since that conversation with Rein about the path of the extraordinary.

He is more composed than before.

Each day was meticulously divided: mornings spent on the ship, afternoons practicing Dark Claw Kung Fu and breathing techniques, evenings soaking hands in Cleansing Medicine, and nights applying ointment and practicing Iron Wall Breathing before bed.

Not a single day was missed.

The progress bar on the panel was jumping slowly but steadily.

[Skill: Iron Wall Breathing Technique (Expert)]

[Progress: 346/1000]

He sometimes thought about buying a dose of Frostwolf Potion right now to undergo baptism.

With an expert-level foundation, the success rate is around 30% to 40%.

But after thinking about it, I decided against it.

Raine once said that if one could master a basic breathing technique like Iron Wall Breathing, the success rate of baptism would more than double.

The difference between 30-40% and 70-80% is not small.

Playing it safe is always a good strategy.

In the afternoon, the club's doors were pushed open.

A group of people walked in one after another, their bodies covered in dust and dried blood, and some of them had coarse bandages wrapped around their arms.

They were the group that went to suppress the bandits.

Ryan came out of his office and glanced at the crowd.

Robert walked at the front, his eyes shining, and he was in excellent spirits.

"We have fulfilled our mission and returned safely."

Someone nearby chimed in, "Brother Robert killed two bandits; he did an excellent job!"

Renn nodded.

"it is good."

He glanced around again, his brow furrowing slightly. "Where's Irving?"

The crowd quieted down.

Robert paused, then said calmly, "Junior Brother Owen acted rashly, circling around to the bandits' rear alone. He was shot in the chest and lost too much blood..."

Renn was stunned.

After a moment, he sighed.

"pity."

That's all.

He glanced at the injuries on the others, said, "It's good that you're all safe," and then turned and went back to his office. Xilun stood in the corner of the training room and watched the whole scene unfold.

Kyrie Irving, that hot-tempered, impulsive young man.

He died.

Xilun lowered his head and continued driving the wooden stakes.

Those who returned from the front lines were covered in wounds, big and small, but Irving didn't come back at all.

Of their group alone, one was killed and seven or eight were injured.

The other teams that were fighting the bandits would suffer even more casualties.

"I made the right choice."

A dull thud came from the wooden stake.

After practicing for a while, Xilun wiped his sweat and walked to the front desk.

He pulled a few pounds out of his pocket and slapped them on the counter.

"Has the item I ordered two weeks ago arrived?"

The receptionist flipped through the register, took out an oil paper package from under the counter, and pushed it over.

"It's here. It's an extraordinary potion, used for refining the skin. This batch is in high demand, so you ordered early, otherwise you really wouldn't have been able to get it."

Xilun took the package, weighed it, and stuffed it into the inner pocket of his clothes.

The club doesn't have many good items; he placed an order two weeks ago and only just received it.

Back in room 302 of the hotel, Xilun unwrapped the oil paper and found a kind of ointment used during the baptismal process. It seemed to be called Ice Toad Snow Ointment, and it was in high demand.

Even if you want to sign a fighter, you have to reserve and wait in line.

The cool cream, once applied to the skin, instantly creates a tingling, warm sensation as it penetrates the pores.

He sat cross-legged on the bed, closed his eyes, and practiced the Iron Wall Breathing Technique.

The energy flows along the meridians, gradually pushing the medicinal power deep into the skin.

The numbers on the panel slowly changed.

347-348-349

Unhappy.

But every single point was made in a down-to-earth manner.

The next morning, Xilun arrived at the fishing boat dock.

A crowd had gathered on the pier, their voices clamoring.

Mark stepped off the ship, his face ashen.

"Something's happened!"

Siren stepped forward, and Mark lowered his voice, saying, "Last night, the Grey Hemp pirates attacked Lott's ship. Not only did they steal the cargo, but Lott was also killed!"

Xilun knew Lott.

Like Mark, he was a small captain, sailing a medium-sized fishing boat on the Greywater River, and was a baptized man.

The baptized one died just like that.

"Lotte is at least a first-tier player, how come—"

"A sneak attack." Mark interrupted him. "It happened at night. The ship was trapped at the narrow passage, attacked from both sides. Lott fought to his last breath but couldn't escape."

Xilun remained silent for a few seconds.

"With pirates so rampant, isn't anyone doing anything about it?"

Mark gave a wry smile.

"How can we manage them? Those people are hiding in the Deep Water Ink Abyss area, where the currents are swift. Large ships can't get in, and small ships would be sent to their deaths. Moreover, pirates rarely venture out, they bully the weak and fear the strong, they never engage in direct combat with you, and they specifically target lone, weak ships."

He sighed.

"But there's no need to be too pessimistic. I heard that Lott died because he fought back to the death. Those pirates didn't want to kill anyone; if they were captured, they could still save their lives by paying a ransom."

The fishing boats moved slowly forward on the grey water river.

Siren leaned against the gunwale, a harpoon in his hand, his gaze fixed on the distant river.

"Mark, bro."

Mark was squatting at the stern, tidying up the fishing nets, when he heard the sound and looked up.

"How often do the Grey Hemp Pirates typically raid?"

Mark continued working, then thought for a moment.

"These people are still quite sensible. If they do it too frequently, firstly, they will anger the public, and secondly, they will easily be targeted and monitored by those with ulterior motives, which would just be asking for trouble."

He tightened the net rope and tied a knot.

"So I usually only have surgery once every three or four months."

"Three or four months?"

"That's enough." Mark stood up, patting the fish scales off his hands. "Think about it, they can hijack an entire cargo ship at once. Putting aside the cargo, how much is the ship itself worth? One successful hijacking will keep them from worrying for a year or two."

Xilun nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

He switched the harpoon to his right hand, walked to the side of the boat, and began practicing.

With the fork lever angled down and the waist and hips slightly lowered, the angle is adjusted by watching the fish shadows below the water's surface.

One fork, two forks, three forks.

The movements became smoother and smoother, and the progress on the panel increased little by little.

Half an hour passed.

A muffled thud came from the bow of the ship.

Xilun looked up and saw a black-backed, silver-bellied fish crash into the deck, its white belly floating up as it spun around, dizzy and disoriented.

Without hesitation, he flipped his wrist and the fork tip pierced down precisely.

The fish's body was nailed to the deck, and it flicked its tail twice before becoming still.

The sailors who were hauling in their nets turned around and paused for a moment.

"Wow! This fork technique is really quite impressive!"

Another sailor came over and smacked his lips.

"He can hit any fish that comes at him with a single spear thrust; his reaction time is unbelievably fast."

Xilun didn't reply, but bent down and removed the fish from the fork.

The fish is small, about two palm lengths long, with a black back and silvery-gray scales on its belly. The scales are much denser than those of ordinary river fish.

Mark walked over from the stern, glanced down, and stopped in his tracks.

"etc."

He squatted down, flipped the fish's ventral fins, and then pried open its mouth to examine its teeth.

"This is black trout!"

Xilun looked up.

"What's wrong?"

Mark stood up, his face unusually serious.

"Good stuff. This fish is rare. Although it lives in the river, it is purely carnivorous and can only survive by eating other fish and shrimp. Look at its teeth, they are sharp, like small knives."

He flicked the fish's body with his finger.

"Because it grows up eating meat, its meat is extremely fresh. Moreover, this stuff can nourish your blood and qi. You are currently in the tempering stage before your baptism, so eating a few more of these will have real benefits for your body."

Xilun looked down at the fish in his hand.

Black trout. A carnivorous fish, difficult to raise and rare.

"How much does this fish cost at the dock?"

Mark waved his hand.

"You forked it up, so eat it yourself. Finding this stuff is all about luck; it'll only fetch a few shillings if you sell it, so it's better to eat it."

Xilun didn't stand on ceremony any longer.

He drew a short knife from his waist, pressed the back of the blade against the fish's body, and scraped off the scales in a few swift strokes. The fine scales glittered silver as they fell onto the deck.

There was a small tin stove at the stern, which the sailors used to heat soup.

Xilun carried the cleaned fish over, stuffed two pieces of wood into the stove, and lit them with a tinderbox. He placed half a pot of water on the iron pot stand, waited for the water to boil, and then put the whole fish in.

No salt, no seasoning, just boiled white fish in plain water.

Once the water boils, an extremely rich and delicious aroma wafts out of the pot.

Several sailors turned their heads at the same time.

"What does it taste like?"

Xilun ignored them and stared at the fish in the pot.

The fish meat tumbled in the boiling water; the white flesh remained firm and did not fall apart, and the broth gradually turned milky white.

A few minutes later, Xilun took the fish out, placed it on a clean piece of coarse cloth, and tore it apart with his hands to eat.

Take the first bite.

The fish is so tender that it almost melts in your mouth, with a burst of freshness on your tongue and no fishy smell whatsoever.

Immediately afterwards, a warm sensation spread from my stomach to my limbs.

It wasn't the heat from the outside in that felt like from a medicinal ointment, but rather a heat that came from within the body, like a small flame slowly burning between the internal organs.

The energy surged slightly beneath the skin, and a tingling, pleasant sensation spread through the meridians.

Xilun swallowed the last bite of fish and licked his fingertips.

Endless aftertaste.

This stuff is far less effective than Ice Toad Snow Cream, but it's superior because it's natural and gentle, has no side effects, and only has benefits if you take too much.

"Good fish."

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