As the last vestiges of the setting sun vanished behind the western mountain range, leaving behind a deep violet horizon, the veil of night descended. The night wind swept down from the upper reaches of the No Giang, carrying with it a chilling moisture and the deep, muffled roaring of the river.
There were no war drums, no rallying cries. Five silhouettes silently stepped onto the Iron Fir raft. The atmosphere at the private dock of the Duke of Dinh Quoc's Estate was suffocatingly heavy. The stationed guards stood with solemn reverence, their eyes filled with anxiety and respect as they watched the five figures embark on a journey where the chances of survival were less than three in ten.
"Depart!"
Uncle Sword's deep and resolute voice shattered the silence. Ly Tin and Trinh Cong immediately used long poles to push the raft away from the dock. The specially crafted raft glided smoothly into the center of the river, quickly caught by the swift current, and merged into the boundless night.
Tran Kien stood at the very center of the raft, directly atop the main formation eye of the Bagua diagram. He placed five low-grade Spirit Stones into the five prepared pedestals. Instantly, the entire formation on the raft's surface emitted a gentle glow. The formation runes lit up like silver earthworms swimming leisurely through the wood.
"Young Hero Tran, commence!" Uncle Sword commanded.
Tran Kien nodded. Taking a deep breath, his hands formed a complex incantation seal. The Primordial Chaos Qi within his body, which had fully recovered after days of rest, surged out wildly, pouring into the central formation eye.
"WIND!"
The four auxiliary formation eyes at the corners of the raft lit up simultaneously. Driven by spiritual energy, four invisible gusts of wind blasted into the empty space behind the raft, generating a tremendous propulsive force. The wooden raft, like an arrow released from a bowstring, suddenly accelerated, tearing through the water as it shot forward into the dark night.
"Excellent!" Ly Tin, who was wielding a long bamboo pole to steer, couldn't help but cheer in admiration. "This speed... it's even faster than our swiftest warships!"
But Tran Kien showed no signs of joy. Bathed in the faint light of the formation, his face was dead serious. He knew this was only the beginning.
The No Giang truly lived up to its reputation as one of the most ferocious rivers. The currents churned violently, and beneath the pitch-black surface lay countless hidden reefs and deadly whirlpools. The raft hurtled forward at a terrifying speed, occasionally lurching violently when it struck a hidden undercurrent.
"Hidden reef to the left!" Lam Vy, tasked with keeping a lookout ahead, suddenly screamed. She had exceptional eyesight, capable of spotting anomalous ripples on the water's surface even in the dead of night.
"Ly Tin, Trinh Cong!" Uncle Sword ordered.
"Understood!" The two men immediately gathered all their strength, driving their long poles into the riverbed in a desperate attempt to alter the raft's trajectory.
But the current was far too swift; human strength alone was insufficient. The raft continued to barrel straight toward the submerged rock.
Right at that moment, Tran Kien roared, "Tilt!"
He focused his divine sense, channeling the entirety of the wind-propulsion formation toward the right side. The massive thrust from one side caused the raft to tilt sharply, one edge lifting almost completely out of the water. The raft skidded across the river in a bizarre manner, brushing past the hidden reef by a mere hair's breadth. An ear-piercing screech rang out as wood ground against stone.
Everyone was drenched in cold sweat. Just a fraction of an inch closer, and the entire raft would have been smashed to splinters.
"Well done, Tran Kien!" Uncle Sword praised.
Tran Kien didn't reply. Beads of sweat had already formed on his forehead. Controlling the formation with such delicate precision consumed an immense amount of divine sense.
And so, they glided through the night, overcoming rapid after rapid, whirlpool after whirlpool. The five of them coordinated with increasing flawless synergy. Uncle Sword was the commanding brain. Lam Vy was the warning eyes. Ly Tin and Trinh Cong were the mighty arms. And Tran Kien was the very heart, the driving engine of the entire raft. He didn't just propel the raft forward; he used the formation to balance, to evade, transforming a rigid piece of wood into a genuinely agile fish.
After about two sichen (four hours), the sound of the rushing water grew increasingly deafening. The air turned eerily cold.
"Up ahead... is the Dragon Gate Gorge!" Ly Tin said, his voice trembling slightly.
Everyone looked forward. Under the moonlight, a majestic yet deadly scene unfolded. The riverbed ahead was abruptly choked by two colossal, pitch-black cliffs towering like giant titans. The entirety of the massive river's volume was forced into a narrow gorge barely ten zhang wide, creating a frenzied, chaotic torrent that smashed against the stone walls, kicking up white waves several zhang high. The roaring was like the bellow of an imprisoned dragon, desperate to tear everything to shreds.
This was the absolute death zone—the Dragon Gate Gorge.
"Tran Kien!" Uncle Sword roared over the deafening waters. "Pour all the Spirit Stones into the formation! We will force our way through in one go!"
"Understood!"
Without a shred of hesitation, Tran Kien took out all the remaining low-grade Spirit Stones and slammed them into the five formation eyes. The formation on the raft instantly erupted with blinding radiance. The propulsion from behind reached its absolute zenith.
The wooden raft, like a moth drawn to a flame, shot violently toward the Dragon Gate Gorge.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The moment they entered the narrow gorge, a terrifying tearing force descended upon them from all sides. The raft was hoisted high by massive waves, then slammed brutally back down. The icy river water whipped against their faces, making it nearly impossible to keep their eyes open.
"Hold steady!" Ly Tin and Trinh Cong bellowed, driving their bamboo poles deep into the crevices of the rock walls, struggling to prevent the raft from capsizing.
Lam Vy clung tightly to a log, her small face deathly pale, yet she stubbornly refused to let out a single cry.
Tran Kien stood in the center, his feet rooted to the deck. He was bearing the greatest pressure. The chaotic spiritual energy of the Dragon Gate Gorge was frantically battering his formation, draining the Primordial Chaos Qi within his body at a horrifying rate. Veins bulged on his forehead, and a trace of fresh blood had already seeped from the corner of his mouth.
The raft groaned, its exquisite mortise joints emitting terrifying cracking sounds, seemingly on the verge of shattering into pieces.
Just at that moment, Uncle Sword, who had been silently observing, finally moved.
He didn't use a real sword, nor his flute. He slowly drew the ordinary wooden sword that hung at his waist.
Then, he slashed forward.
There was no brilliant sword light, no earth-shattering aura. It was just an utterly ordinary slash.
But the moment that slash fell, the raging waters directly in front of the raft were instantaneously cleaved in twain, forming a tranquil path of water stretching over ten zhang long.
"Sword Intent... Water Severing!"
"GO!!!" Uncle Sword roared.
Tran Kien instantly understood. Pushing his final ounces of strength, he steered the raft straight into the newly opened watery path.
The raft shot forward at an unimaginable speed, piercing right through the most perilous section of the Dragon Gate Gorge.
The moment they burst out, the watery path behind them instantly collapsed. The current returned to its former frenzied state.
They had made it through.
Everyone gasped for air, collapsing onto the deck of the raft. Tran Kien had no strength left to stand; he slumped down, his face as pale as a sheet of paper.
But before they could even rejoice, dozens of dark figures suddenly materialized from the cliffs on both sides of the Dragon Gate Gorge. Under the moonlight, cold crossbows were already drawn, aimed squarely at them.
Atop the highest peak of the cliff stood a figure clad in black armor, a crimson feather affixed to his helm. He looked down at them with a gaze as icy as the depths of hell.
It was Xich Vu!