Chapter Four: The Man on the Rock

"But what?" The sudden change in tone inevitably sparked curiosity, especially in a young girl like Qiu Wan’er, whose inquisitiveness was at its peak. She couldn’t help but ask.

Yet Han Tanyi found himself at a loss for how to respond. Something felt odd in his heart, but when he tried to articulate it, he couldn’t quite understand it himself. His eyes remained fixed on the river surface, a touch of wistfulness in his gaze. Fortunately, at that moment, a distant shadow gradually drew nearer.

It was clearly the boat they were waiting for, providing the youth a perfect excuse to evade the question. “I was just wondering why the boat hasn’t come yet. Seems you can’t call for what you want—now here it is. We’ve been out for more than half a month; I bet Master is secretly relieved. Without that little imp around, he must be enjoying peace for once, spared all the trouble. Don’t you think so, junior sister?”

He posed the question, catching Qiu Wan’er off guard. She was still mulling over his words, her face showing confusion.

Though she was a little slow to react, she was no fool. Suddenly realizing that "little imp" referred to herself, and that he was clearly teasing her, she felt both annoyed and amused. Her hands instinctively itched to give him a playful thump or two.

But this was nothing unusual. The two of them had grown up together, and a bit of boisterousness was just part of their daily routine; without it, something would feel missing. Soon enough, one was chasing, the other dodging, and laughter rose, breaking the serenity of the surroundings with cheerful noise.

Now that the boat was in sight, there was no need to wait long. The journey from Yingyang City to Xiaosha would take no more than five or six days. The boatmen were all seasoned hands, navigating downstream along the Wei River. After passing through the Three-Leap Gorge, they would enter the waters of the Xiang River.

The Three-Leap Gorge got its name from the turbulent waters that slanted steeply downward in three stages, like three straight drops, each separated by a rocky ledge. Massive boulders jutted from the river’s heart, creating swirling eddies and splashing waves. It was a place where rivers met, awe-inspiring yet treacherous—only those with years of experience dared cross these waters.

Of course, this had little to do with Han Tanyi and Qiu Wan’er. Their boatman was highly skilled, and as they passed through the gorge, the journey was surprisingly calm. Seated in the cabin, the two gazed out the windows. As the river breeze lifted the gauzy curtains, a breathtaking panorama unfolded before their eyes—a rare and exquisite pleasure.

This was their second time traversing this route, but traveling upstream and downstream evoked utterly different feelings. Going upstream was arduous, the boatmen’s chants ringing out with resolute rhythm, blending with the roar of the water—a spirit of defiance, as if reading the heart of a warrior.

Downstream, however, the boat’s speed quickened, and at each drop, it felt as though their bodies soared with the vessel. A bold exhilaration arose unbidden, just as it did now—their eyes wide, watching the waves crash with awe and wonder.

Absorbed in the moment, they failed to notice anything amiss. With two of the three leaps behind them, there would be little chance to experience this thrill again anytime soon. The final leap was the highlight, with an even greater drop than the previous two. The boatmen’s chant rang out once more, but now, instead of urging the boat forward, they sought to slow it down. If the vessel plunged ahead unchecked, a lucky crew might be tossed into the water—fortunate only in that river folk were all strong swimmers. But if unlucky, and the boat smashed against jagged rocks, both vessel and passengers would be lost, no matter how skilled they were.

At that critical moment, a voice called out from the northern cliffs along the riverbank, startling Han Tanyi: “Boatman, bring your boat closer. This old man needs a ride down to the Xiang River!”

The boat was still dozens of meters from shore, and the cliff rose a hundred meters high. For anyone to project their voice so clearly over the rush of the waters was no mean feat—indeed, it sounded as if the speaker stood right beside them. It was clear this was no ordinary man, but Han Tanyi could not gauge just how skilled he was.

Naturally, if Han Tanyi could hear him, so could the boatman. River folk had a custom—no matter who called, one should always give an answer and make connections, for the more acquaintances, the smoother the journey.

The lead boatman cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted toward the cliff, “Can’t do it, sir! The current’s too strong here—the boat can’t get closer. Head downstream a bit to calmer water, and there’ll be boats willing to take you aboard!”

He was telling the truth. The boatman’s voice was loud, but whether the man heard him was uncertain. Han Tanyi hesitated, unsure if he should relay the message. He’d hoped for an uneventful trip home and had no wish to invite trouble. Yet not helping felt unchivalrous, and his conscience pricked him. Qiu Wan’er, meanwhile, frowned and muttered, “Who is that? Calling for a boat here—he’s just making things difficult for the boatmen.”

Han Tanyi thought Qiu Wan’er’s words a bit harsh and was about to respond—perhaps not with a reprimand, but with a gentle lesson on courtesy. But then, to his surprise, he realized she was right.

Without another word, the man on the cliff let himself fall, plummeting vertically down the rock face at great speed. No one could react in time or guess his intent. If he continued this way, death seemed inevitable.

Instinctively, Qiu Wan’er closed her eyes, unwilling to witness what would happen next. Even Han Tanyi stood up, eyes fixed on the scene, uncertain how to respond.

Yet there was no great splash. Just before the figure touched the water, he twisted sharply, so that his head was suddenly up and his feet down. Somehow, his toes landed on the river’s surface and did not sink. At the same moment, a wind seemed to rise beneath him, stirring the water and supporting his body. With his hands folded behind his back, a wave surged beneath him as he sped across the river toward the boat.

Everyone was stunned. To move across water like that was extraordinary. Han Tanyi, Qiu Wan’er, and all the boatmen watched with disbelief, their oars coming to a halt. The man moved so swiftly that Han Tanyi’s eyes could barely follow; in a blink, he had crossed the dozens of meters and was at their side.

“Not good!” someone cried out. In their astonishment, everyone had forgotten their duties. Without human effort to keep the vessel balanced, the boat drifted into the grip of the whirlpool, veering straight toward a massive rock. Worse still, the current’s speed matched the rushing water. If nothing changed, a collision was certain.

No one wanted to see that happen. The shout roused the boatmen, but at such close range, there was little they could do. It was almost impossible to alter the boat’s course in time. Despair settled over everyone; some began to shout in fear, their words lost in the uproar.

Han Tanyi refused to let disaster unfold. He could save himself with a protective burst of energy, vaulting onto the rocks unharmed. But he could not stand by and watch innocent people perish.

Resolute, he leapt into the air, aiming to use his power to jolt the boat aside. Yet before he could take more than a few steps, a tremendous pressure bore down on him, holding him back. At that moment, an ancient voice sounded: “Young man, this is not your concern. Since this old fool caused it, let me resolve it myself!”