Aftermath

With a thought from Qin Sang, Yanwang, who had been hiding outside, flew inside. Casting a fearful gaze at Qin Sang, it vanished into the Yanluo Banner. A ripple passed over the surface of the Yanluo Banner, and the image of Yanwang reappeared upon it. Qin Sang commanded it to come out. The banner twisted, and Yanwang floated out once more, standing respectfully before Qin Sang, appearing exceptionally docile. Qin Sang knew that what Yanwang feared was the jade Buddha, not himself, but he did not care. Recalling the text he had read earlier, he commanded, "Bring me a Soul Pill." Yanwang's eyes abruptly turned crimson, a ferocious glint flashing across its face for an instant. Reluctantly, it opened its mouth and spat out a clump of black qi. The black qi swiftly condensed into a longan-sized Soul Pill. Qin Sang caught it in his hand, feeling a chill seep into his palm. Looking at Yanwang again, after spitting out the Soul Pill, its form flickered unstably, as if it had grown considerably weaker. Suppressing the impatience in his heart, he ordered Yanwang to return. He tidied up the messy bed, sat cross-legged, and gripped the Soul Pill as he circulated his cultivation technique. Just as the text had described, the moment the technique began to circulate, Qin Sang immediately sensed a difference. After completing a single heavenly circuit, the improvement far surpassed what he had experienced before, even more effective than the medicinal baths. After the initial delight passed, Qin Sang grew troubled again. The text had stated clearly that if he wished to obtain more Soul Pills in the future, Yanwang would have to devour human souls or yin baleful qi. How was Qin Sang supposed to know what yin baleful qi was? Did he truly have to become a murderous demon? A faint gleam of light appeared outside the window. Qin Sang gave a quiet sigh and lay down in his clothes, setting these vexing matters aside for the moment. Using his inner vision, like someone who had received a fascinating new toy, he let his focus wander endlessly throughout his body. Finally, he returned to the place of his soul. The layer of yellow light outside his soul remained, though the Buddha silhouette was nowhere to be seen. ... So much had happened that night, his emotions swinging through such great highs and lows that it felt longer than an entire year. Soon, dawn broke. Qin Sang acted as if nothing had happened, getting up as usual to light the fire, practice martial arts, and do the morning service. Only when noon arrived did he pretend to have just discovered that Old Wu was dead, calling over the old Daoist with a face full of panic. Sure enough, Daoist Priest Jixin found no cause for suspicion. He could only conclude that Old Wu, having hauled towlines day after day, had been thoroughly overworked; his body's essence and qi were drained, and he had succumbed to a fatal convulsion in his sleep. Among Old Wu's belongings were a defensive dagger and a few taels of silver. While the old Daoist told Qin Sang to report it to the local magistrate, Qin Sang added some money of his own to buy a sturdy wooden coffin, enlisted the help of the temple's tenants to properly shroud and encase Old Wu's corpse along with his belongings, found a burial plot on the back mountain, and laid him to rest that very day. Old Wu had no living kin, so the funeral was kept as simple as possible. The old Daoist merely chanted a few scrolls of scriptures for him, while Qin Sang crouched before the grave, burning a whole basin of joss paper. He murmured softly, "Old Wu, live well down below. In the future, I'll find a boy to adopt under your name and carry on the Wu family's ancestral line. You can rest in peace." Kinsmen may linger in grief, while others have already begun their songs. In these troubled times, death was far too commonplace, and by evening the atmosphere in the temple had returned to normal. For Qin Sang, however, nightfall brought another vexing development. He discovered that after advancing to the second layer of the Nether Scripture, the improvement from medicinal baths had become negligible, completely shattering his hopes of combining Soul Pills and medicinal baths for cultivation. Refusing to give up, he pestered Daoist Priest Jixin for a new prescription, annoying the old Daoist to no end. In the blink of an eye, seven more days went by. After all these days of consumption, a little under half of that Soul Pill had been depleted; by his estimation, a single Soul Pill would last only about twenty days. That afternoon, with nothing to do at the temple, Qin Sang and Mingyue slipped out once again to treat themselves to a feast. The bamboo grove was quiet and serene. The two crouched beside an earthen stove tending the fire, surrounded by four cleaned hares and several plump wild birds. Nowadays, Qin Sang had no need for traps to find food; with nothing more than wooden sticks and pebbles, he never missed his mark. Anything that moved could not escape his grasp, leaving Mingyue deeply envious. With wine and meat, the two leaned against a boulder, listening to the rustling wind in utter comfort. Qin Sang suddenly felt that if he had never witnessed immortals, spending an entire lifetime here would not be bad at all. Mingyue tore off a hare leg with his teeth, washing down mouthfuls of meat with swigs of wine. Following Qin Sang in martial arts training, he had not only grown taller, but his appetite for both food and alcohol had grown as well. Mingyue suddenly sat upright, his ears twitching as he asked in confusion, "Senior Brother, why do I hear pigeons cooing?" "I've heard them a few times already," Qin Sang said nonchalantly. "They're probably raised by one of the temples on the front mountain. Pigeon is very nourishing. When the mood strikes me, I'll catch a few and make some pigeon soup for you." Mingyue shrank his neck back and giggled. "Just don't let their owners catch you, or Master will scold us." Qin Sang scoffed, "You still doubt my skills?" Having eaten and drunk their fill, with nightfall approaching, the two fellow disciples returned together to the temple. Once the evening service was finished, they retired to their respective rooms. As usual, Qin Sang tidied up his bed and took hold of the Soul Pill and the Yanluo Banner. Before beginning his cultivation, he touched the ebony sword against his chest. Compared to the Yanluo Banner, what interested him most was still the ebony sword. Yet whenever the qi in his body entered the ebony sword, it was like a pebble dropping into the ocean, yielding no reaction whatsoever. The incantations for the Yanluo Banner were equally useless against it, leaving him to sigh in frustration. The moonlit night was quiet and secluded, broken only by the intermittent chirping of insects beneath the windowsill. Qin Sang was concentrating wholeheartedly on his cultivation when his expression suddenly shifted. Snapping his eyes open, he barked, "Who's there!" His gaze swept around, fixing firmly on the corner of the wall. Immediately, the darkness in that corner began to churn, and a dark shadow stepped out from within—a person clad in night clothes! "Who are you!" Qin Sang was alarmed to the bone. Someone had snuck into his room completely undetected! His hearing was exceptionally sharp, which was why he had caught a faint, unusual rustle in the air as the person crept in, startling him awake. Otherwise, the intruder might have drawn right up to his side without his realizing it. Who was this person? What was their purpose in sneaking into his room? Had his secrets leaked? Thoughts raced through Qin Sang's mind as his hand stealthily moved toward the Yanluo Banner on the bed. The black-clad figure stood leisurely in the middle of the room, showing not the slightest panic at having his presence exposed. His gaze remained piercingly sharp in the dim room, making Qin Sang feel as if two blades were scraping over him, sending chills through his entire body. The intruder looked Qin Sang up and down with some surprise. "Tsk, tsk... Who would have thought a Daoist in a rundown temple would have the eye to see through my footwork? In that case, Old Wu died at your hands?" Old Wu's death was Qin Sang's deepest secret and worry. He had thought his cover-up was seamless, so to have it abruptly exposed by a stranger sent a massive shock through his heart, causing his eyes to narrow slightly. "It really was you?" The intruder's eyes narrowed, a terrifying murderous aura flaring in them instantly as he said in a chilling voice, "Old Wu reported that this temple had only two young Daoists who knew some martial arts and were nothing to worry about. Who would have guessed he could capsize in such an insignificant ditch! Brat, I'm quite curious who you really are, that even an assassin of Jiangshan Tower could fall into your trap!" Qin Sang had not expected the intruder to be so perceptive; the slightest slip on his part had been caught instantly. At the same time, he found it strange. From this person's words, Old Wu was no ordinary man either. Could his identity as a tracker have been a disguise? Old Wu had lain in wait at the temple for half a year—what had been his purpose? "I don't know what you're talking about!" Qin Sang deepened his voice and flatly denied it. "Old Wu hauled towlines at the ferry every day and died of exhaustion! It had nothing to do with me! There wasn't a single injury on his body. If you don't believe it, go exhume his coffin and examine the corpse yourself!"