Chapter 105 The Stone That Does Not Bleed

The warm evening breeze carried the lively sounds of flute music and festive laughter across the reed-lined waterways of the southern wetland settlement. Brilliant paper lanterns hung from the arched bridges, casting dancing reflections across the tranquil surface of the tidal lagoons.

Ren walked along the raised timber boardwalks, admiring the vibrant stalls where local fisherfolk sold roasted river fish and spiced reed cakes.

The seasonal Crossing Festival marked the annual migration of the silver eels, drawing hunters and traders from across the province to celebrate the harvest. Ren received a handwritten invitation from Rinka earlier that morning, asking him to join the wetland rangers for the opening festivities.

Rinka stepped out from the main ranger lodge, dressed in an elegant dark green festival tunic embroidered with golden marsh lily patterns.

Her long auburn hair was tied back with a braided silver cord, and her athletic frame radiated cheerful confidence as she spotted Ren approaching the plaza. She waved enthusiastically, closing the distance with brisk, energetic strides that caused the fringe of her leather sash to sway gracefully.

"You actually made it through the mountain passes in time, Ren!" Rinka greeted him with a bright, teasing laugh as she grabbed his wrist. "I was worried you would get bogged down in another endless meeting with the merchant guild bureaucrats!"

Ren smiled warmly, appreciating her direct and unpretentious nature after days of navigating tense logistical disputes with corporate officials.

"I would never miss an invitation from the finest ranger on the southern border..." Ren replied playfully, gesturing toward the bustling festival stalls. "Especially when I hear the wetland rangers host the most competitive archery and spear contests in the province!"

Rinka led him through the crowded village square, where local musicians played upbeat melodies on bamboo flutes and reed pipes.

They stopped at a food stall to sample freshly grilled river trout seasoned with wild mountain herbs, enjoying the rich flavors as they observed the lively crowd. Children ran between the lantern poles with miniature paper drakes, their joyful laughter creating a welcoming atmosphere throughout the village.

Nearby, a master weaver demonstrated the traditional craft of braiding waterproof traveling cloaks from harvested marsh reeds.

"Our ancestors developed these woven garments to protect hunters from freezing coastal mists and torrential rainstorms..." Rinka explained as they admired the intricate interlacing patterns. "A properly woven reed cloak will keep a traveler completely dry through the fiercest northern squalls without adding unnecessary bulk!"

They sat at a waterfront tea pavilion to enjoy warm berry infusions brewed with wild clover honey, listening to the gentle murmur of the festival crowd. Rinka spoke fondly of her late father, who established the first ranger patrol outposts and taught her to read the subtle shifts in tidal currents and waterfowl behavior.

"He always believed that true strength comes from protecting the people who live along these waterways..." Rinka shared with quiet reverence in her voice. "Seeing our independent communities thrive without fear of corporate exploitation is the greatest tribute we could ever offer to his memory!"

Rinka's eyes sparkled with fierce competitive fire as she turned toward the central game pavilion where several target ranges were set up.

"If you think your C-rank hunter title will protect your pride at our spear stalls, you are in for a rude awakening, rookie!" Rinka declared with a proud smirk, pulling him toward the shooting gallery. "Let us see if your unmasked throwing arm can match a ranger who grew up hunting marsh drakes in the reeds!"

The game master presented two weighted throwing spears crafted from seasoned ash, their tips painted with bright blue chalk to mark scoring impacts.

The target was a revolving disc of solid basalt known locally as the Stone That Does Not Bleed, positioned fifty paces across an open water channel. The spinning target featured narrow concentric scoring rings that tested both arm strength and precise projectile timing.

Ren stepped up to the throwing line, deliberately refraining from equipping any of his beast masks to test his natural physical capabilities.

He gripped the polished ash shaft, feeling the balanced weight settle against his palm as he channeled his unmasked core strength into his shoulder. With a smooth and fluid forward step, he launched the spear across the lagoon in a swift, whistling arc.

The blue chalk tip struck the inner ring of the spinning disc with a sharp crack, earning an appreciative cheer from the watching spectators.

Rinka stepped forward with an amused gleam in her eyes, adjusting her grip on the second spear with the effortless grace of a master huntress. She took a single graceful half-step, snapping her wrist with explosive precision to send her spear flashing across the water.

Her spear struck the exact center bullseye with pinpoint accuracy, embedding itself half an inch deeper into the solid disc than Ren's throw.

"That is how a true wetland ranger hits a target!" Rinka announced with triumphant laughter, turning to collect the winner's prize from the cheering game master. "Your form was surprisingly decent for a mountain hunter, but you still have a few things to learn about leading a moving mark!"

Next, they moved to the archery pavilion, where moving targets attached to floating reed buoys drifted swiftly along the tidal current.

Ren strung a recurve bamboo bow, drawing the silk cord to his ear and releasing three rapid arrows that struck each moving buoy in succession. Rinka matched his performance by splitting his third arrow down the center with a whistling shot of her own, drawing thunderous applause from the surrounding villagers.

Ren laughed along with the crowd, gladly paying five silver coins to cover the stall entry fees, candied mountain berries, and two hand-carved keepsakes.

He handed one of the carved marsh lily pendants to Rinka, who accepted the small gift with a soft, affectionate flush coloring her cheeks. After deducting the five silver coins for the festival expenses, his personal cash pouch retained exactly four hundred and eighty-five silver coins.

"Thank you for this, Ren..." Rinka said in a softer, more intimate tone as she fastened the pendant around her neck. "It has been months since I had an opportunity to simply enjoy the festival without worrying about corporate patrols!"

Together, they walked out along the quiet observation pier that extended into the deep waters of the southern lagoon, away from the noisy plaza.

The cool night air was filled with the gentle chirping of marsh crickets and the soft lapping of water against the support pilings beneath their feet. Rinka unrolled a small parchment map of the southern frontier, pointing to an elevated ridge that wound between the eastern wetlands and the capital highway.

"My patrol scouts surveyed this dry ridge trail last week..." Rinka explained, tracing the route with her slender finger under the lantern light. "It provides a completely hidden approach that bypasses every corporate toll gate between here and the capital province!"

Ren examined the marked path carefully, realizing that this secret wetland corridor completed their alternate transport network across the entire region.

"With your rangers securing this southern link, Koharu's couriers can transport medical shipments directly from the capital ports into Suzuhara..." Ren observed with profound gratitude. "Director Arata will have no way to enforce his supply blockade once these interconnected trails are fully operational!"

Rinka explained that the wetland rangers had already prepared three shallow-draft cargo barges to ferry freight across the southern delta channels.

"Our watermen know every hidden inlet and tidal channel throughout the lower marshlands..." Rinka added with fierce pride in her people's capabilities. "We can move dozens of crates under the cover of night without alerting a single corporate scout along the main highway!"

Rinka leaned against the railing beside him, her shoulder resting comfortably against his as they looked out over the glowing lagoon.

"Our wetland communities will always stand beside hunters who fight for our people's freedom..." Rinka stated firmly, her hand gently brushing against his fingers along the rail. "Whenever you need the strength of our marshland spears, you only have to send word, and we will answer your call!"

The soft strains of lute music drifted across the water as the festival concluded, marking the beginning of a new season of cooperation between the regional factions. Ren and Rinka walked back toward the village square together, their shared laughter blending naturally with the celebratory atmosphere of the southern wetlands.

She promised to send regular courier dispatches to the Suzuhara headquarters, ensuring that both teams maintained constant communication regarding troop movements along the southern highway.

Ren thanked her with a warm embrace, feeling the genuine strength and sincerity in her grip as they prepared to part ways for the evening.

Hundreds of illuminated paper lanterns were released from the village shoreline, floating serenely across the dark water toward the starlit horizon.

Ren watched the golden reflections shimmer across the tranquil lake, feeling a deep sense of connection to the land and the brave allies who stood with him. With four hundred and eighty-five silver coins in his pouch and a network of loyal companions across the frontier, he was ready for the trials ahead.

The Stone That Does Not Bleed tested their skill, but the enduring bonds of trust they forged beneath the lanterns would never shatter.