Qin Sang was secretly puzzled. The Yanluo Banner, the Purple Soul Bell, and the ebony sword were all weapons of immortal cultivators, yet each had an entirely different method of use.
The Purple Soul Bell was a high-grade magic tool. Were the other two magic tools as well? What grade were they?
Setting down the Yanluo Banner, Qin Sang turned his attention to the sheepskin and the seven-colored brocade pouch.
To his disappointment, the sheepskin was just as before: whether tested with spiritual sense or spiritual power, both passed straight through it. Like any mortal object, it seemed to be nothing more than an ordinary piece of hide.
Qin Sang had not held much hope for the seven-colored brocade pouch either. Yet unexpectedly, the moment his spiritual sense probed inside, a resonant hum echoed within him, and an unfamiliar space opened before his inner eye.
Qin Sang was astonished. When he had touched the pouch with spiritual power earlier, it had yielded no reaction whatsoever, but it turned out to be an immortal magic tool as well!
The space was not particularly large and was piled with sundries. Was this a storage bag?
Sweeping his gaze across it, the most conspicuous items were two small mounds of gold and silver, glittering brightly and reflecting off each other.
With just this gold and silver, Qin Sang could live in great wealth even as a mortal.
Strangely, what lay beside the gold and silver was not jade or jewelry, but a scattered handful of stones. Aside from their differing colors, these stones were largely identical—some yellow, some blue, some crimson—entirely pure without a speck of blemish, exceedingly peculiar.
Qin Sang counted them: only eight in total.
Apart from these, the rest were mundane items needed for daily life—there were even pots, bowls, oil, salt, spices, and the like—none of which seemed like the possessions of an immortal cultivator.
Looking over each item in turn, Qin Sang grew increasingly disappointed. In the end, only a few books and an empty wooden box remained in the corner.
One of the old books looked quite antique, with four characters written on its cover: *Song Clan Genealogy*.
Could this be the genealogy of the sword-riding youth?
*So that youth was surnamed Song,* Qin Sang thought. He wondered whether the genealogy recorded the youth's address or the location of the Song ancestral shrine, so that if an opportunity arose in the future, he might send word of the youth's fate.
Another book was titled *Xuanyin Volume*, and the last had no writing on its cover at all.
These two were very likely the cultivation methods practiced by the Song youth. Qin Sang felt a stir of excitement and tried to open the books to see how they differed from his *Nether Scripture*, but to his dismay, he could not do so at all.
Only then did he suddenly realize that he could look at the contents of the pouch, but could not touch them!
It was as though a basin of cold water had been dumped over him. Anxious, Qin Sang tried each item one by one, yet he could not budge even the most ordinary garments, let alone retrieve them. After trying for a long time, he finally gave up in dejection.
Returning empty-handed from a mountain of treasures was a bitter feeling. Frustrated, Qin Sang could only console himself with the thought that nothing inside the pouch seemed especially precious anyway.
By the time he finished examining everything, the sky outside was pitch-black; without realizing it, he had busied himself late into the night.
Although he could not retrieve anything from the pouch, his gains over the past two days were still extraordinary.
The pouch he had taken for a mere ornament turned out to be a storage bag, which made Qin Sang wary of underestimating the sheepskin as well. He carefully put it away together with the talisman and other items. As for the Purple Soul Bell, he found a cord and tied it around his wrist so it would be easier to use.
Having put everything in order, Qin Sang entered meditation and began cultivating with satisfaction. Whether because of his buoyant mood or something else, not long after he began, the bottleneck that had trapped him for a month actually loosened!
Overjoyed, Qin Sang dared not slacken in the slightest. He circulated his cultivation technique with all his might and finally broke through the barrier in one surge, reaching the third layer of the *Nether Scripture*!
It had not been easy!
Qin Sang sighed inwardly. From the time he started cultivating until now, two full years had passed without interruption, yet he had only reached the third layer. The later stages of the *Nether Scripture* would surely be even more difficult; who knew how many years it would take to break through to the sixth layer?
Beyond the sixth layer, were there even higher realms?
If so, what path should he take?
Calming his agitated breath, Qin Sang exhaled a mouthful of turbid air and opened his eyes, only to find the dawn had already broken.
After breaking through to the third layer of the *Nether Scripture*, the spiritual power within Qin Sang had multiplied several times over, and using the Purple Soul Bell was no longer as exhausting. He felt no fatigue at all and was completely captivated by the bell, doting on it even more than on the Yanluo Banner.
After all, this was the first magic tool he could directly employ.
*Thump, thump...*
The courtyard gate was suddenly knocked upon. Qin Sang frowned. "Who is it?"
Zheng Kun spoke from outside: "Hall Master, General Zhou sent a messenger into the city. The Princess has arrived and is heading toward the county yamen."
*The Princess?*
*She arrived fast,* Qin Sang thought. He tidied up quickly, hid the Purple Soul Bell inside his sleeve, and hurried toward the county yamen.
Just as he arrived before the yamen, he heard a rush of hoofbeats down the street. Princess Dongyang rode at the front, with Zhou Mingguang and Bai Jianglan following behind, along with several mounted retainers galloping swiftly up.
From the first time they met until now, Qin Sang had never seen Princess Dongyang in women's attire, and today was no exception.
The dawn sky was a hazy gray-blue.
Down the long bluestone street, the autumn wind swept past, scattering yellow leaves.
Princess Dongyang wore light armor with a tasseled helmet, a sword hanging at her waist. Her black-and-red cloak billowed high, undulating with the horse's gallop.
The moment she caught sight of Qin Sang, her eyes locked onto him, glinting with a cold light that portended an impending tempest.
Bai Jianglan shot Qin Sang a discreet glance, warning him to watch himself.
The fine steed showed no sign of slowing as it bore down upon Qin Sang. Only at the very last moment did Princess Dongyang haul back sharply on the reins. The steed gave a long neigh, rearing high onto its hind legs.
Dismounting smoothly, Princess Dongyang glared at Qin Sang with almond-shaped eyes and demanded through gritted teeth, "Forging the Prince's seal, fabricating royal orders, mobilizing troops without authorization, and ravaging a holy site! Hall Master Qin, just how many heads do you have?!"
Confronted by her piercing glare, Qin Sang's expression remained unchanged. He gestured politely. "Pray calm your anger, Princess. Please step inside the yamen first; this subordinate has something to show you."
With a cold snort, Princess Dongyang cracked her riding whip and strode into the yamen.
Qin Sang stepped aside to lead the way, guiding her directly into the yamen's main hall.
The gold, silver, and treasures had already been fully inventoried. Row upon row of chests sat neatly arranged. Standing at the doorway, Princess Dongyang glanced across them and asked in an impatient tone, "What is all this?"
Qin Sang walked over to a nearby chest and flipped it open, revealing a neatly stacked crate of silver ingots. He flipped open another: another crate of silver.
Taking the ledger handed over by Zhou Ning, Qin Sang said, "Princess, these are the riches removed from just one of Xuanji Temple's treasuries. In silver alone, there is one million taels, with an equal fortune in jewels and jade. As for White Kiln porcelain, silks, and satins, they are beyond count. More than a thousand men labored for a full day and night just to haul it all."
This was what remained after Zhou Mingguang had been given his cut. The staggering wealth of Xuanji Temple had stunned everyone.
Princess Dongyang's dark brows drew together slightly. She remained silent for a long time, lost in thought.
Qin Sang was quietly perplexed. After waiting a moment, he saw Princess Dongyang turn a burning gaze upon him. "There are still a thousand garrison troops in Jiang Prefecture City. If I give them all to you, how confident are you?"
Chapter 39