"Who do you think you are, demanding to see Senior Brother Han whenever you please?" The plump youth's face was flushed with anger. "Get out of my way, or don't blame me for getting rough!"
Qin Sang held his ground without the slightest fear, his voice cold. "I am Immortal Master Han's savior. He told me himself that if I ever had a request, I could see him. Why are you so determined to block me? What are your intentions? Do you want Immortal Master Han to break his word?"
"Savior?" The plump youth was taken aback. "You saved Senior Brother Han's life?"
Qin Sang recounted the events on Mount Guling.
The youth's arrogance deflated considerably, his expression flickering between uncertainty and hesitation. In the end, he shot Qin Sang a resentful glare, produced a palm-sized scroll, and with a flick of his wrist, unfurled an ancient painting before them.
Mists and vapors shrouded the painting's sky, layers of swirling clouds stretching endlessly, as though depicting the thirty-three heavens in profound mystery. Amid the glowing clouds, a flock of celestial cranes soared freely, lifelike and vibrant, looking almost alive.
Qin Sang then felt a surge of spiritual power. The plump youth channeled his power into the scroll, and a wisp of cloud drifted out from the painting. Amid the swirling mist, the clear cry of a crane echoed without end.
A crane from the painting alighted upon the youth's palm. His lips moved slightly as he whispered a few words into its ear. The crane beat its wings, expanding in size as it met the wind, before vanishing into the horizon.
In merely a brief moment, the clouds hovering over the ancient scroll began to churn violently, eventually coalescing into the figure of a person—none other than the young man surnamed Han who had nearly lost his life on Mount Guling.
"Junior Brother Zhen Ming," the cloud-formed figure of the young man surnamed Han said, appearing somewhat ethereal, his voice airy and faint. "Why have you summoned me with such urgency?"
Then, catching sight of Qin Sang nearby, he recognized him immediately and said with a smile, "General Qin, it has been many days. I trust you have been well."
Qin Sang was just about to speak when Zhen Ming took a step forward, pouring out his grievances. "Senior Brother Han, it's not that I wanted to disturb you, but this kid surnamed Qin insisted on seeing you! I was left with no choice. Following your instructions, I asked him whether he was set on pursuing immortality. Once he decided, I tested his spiritual roots. I warned him long before that those with spiritual roots are one in ten thousand, and sure enough, a mere mortal like him possesses none. I urged him to return and live a good secular life, yet he mistook my good intentions for malice and thought I was out to harm him. He kept claiming to be your savior and demanded to see you!"
With that, Zhen Ming huffed and glared at Qin Sang, looking thoroughly wronged.
The young man surnamed Han looked at Zhen Ming, then at Qin Sang, and said with a smile, "General Qin, what Junior Brother Zhen Ming said is true. Mortals possessing spiritual roots are indeed one in ten thousand; he was not deceiving you. The path of cultivation is harder than ascending to the blue heavens. Even if one can cultivate, the cultivation world is fraught with countless perils, and one could perish at any moment. Remaining a mortal might not be a bad thing. I can have Junior Brother Zhen Ming instruct the Palace Master of Chaosheng Palace to look after you. Even if dynasties change in the future, your lifelong peace and prosperity will be guaranteed."
"But..."
Hearing the young man surnamed Han say this as well, Qin Sang felt helpless. He wanted to ask how, if he possessed no spiritual root, he had managed to cultivate the Nether Scripture.
Yet recalling his two encounters with immortals, the righteous and demonic factions had fought each other to the death every time. And Qin Sang himself had used the Yanluo Banner to slaughter quite a few mortals.
Relying on demonic methods to bring disaster upon the world, he could hardly deny being a demon himself.
"Immortal Master Han, is it truly impossible to become a cultivator without a spiritual root?" Qin Sang asked with profound reluctance. Could anything in this world truly be so absolute?
Could it be that because he was not native to this world, he was an exception? Or was it an ability granted by the jade Buddha?
A stirred expression crossed the face of the young man surnamed Han. Zhen Ming froze as well, ceasing his incessant chatter. He glanced at Qin Sang, then lowered his head in silence.
After a long hesitation, the young man surnamed Han said, "General Qin, as far as Han knows, within the righteous path, there has never been a precedent of someone embarking on the immortal path without a spiritual root. Even among the prestigious sects, the cultivation methods require one to possess a spiritual root. As for..."
Seeing his hesitation, Qin Sang's eyes lit up. "Immortal Master Han, is there another way?"
The young man surnamed Han smiled bitterly and shook his head. "Without a spiritual root, no method will work. If you cannot sense spiritual power, how can you cultivate? What I was about to say is that our Han family only understands the circumstances of righteous cultivators; we know very little about the demonic sects. Demonic cultivators practice bizarre arts and countless wicked techniques. Whether they have a way to break such shackles, I do not know."
"Demonic sects?"
Qin Sang was surprised. Was the young man surnamed Han trying to advise him to join the demonic path?
However, a wisp of cloud in the young man's palm formed into a round jade medallion. With a solemn expression, he said, "Since I made a promise, I will not go back on my word. This jade medallion should be a token for a cultivation market within the territory where northern demonic sects operate. I obtained it from that demon's mustard seed bag. If you insist on trying your luck, I will have the crane spirit deliver it to you. However, if you truly enter the demonic path, the next time we meet, we will be enemies, not friends, and Han will show no mercy."
Without hesitation, Qin Sang cupped his fists. "Qin Sang thanks Immortal Master Han!"
The young man surnamed Han gave Qin Sang a deep look, nodded, and the cloud silhouette dispersed.
Qin Sang and Zhen Ming waited where they were for a while until the crane spirit flew back, carrying a jade medallion and a silk scroll in its beak.
Zhen Ming took them and handed them to Qin Sang. He cupped his hands to him, mounted the crane spirit, and departed.
Qin Sang unfurled the silk scroll and discovered it was an extensive geographical map. This was the first time he had seen a map so vast and detailed. He quickly located the Great Sui, which appeared truly tiny on the map.
To the north, the State of Heng was dozens of times larger than the Great Sui, and north of Heng were several countries even larger.
Passing Heng and traversing several more nations, Qin Sang finally spotted the annotation left by the young man surnamed Han in the territory of a country called the State of Biyun. As for the precise location of the cultivation market, the young man's note stated that Qin Sang only needed to carry the jade medallion close to the vicinity, and the medallion would sense the market automatically and guide him there.
The young man surnamed Han also briefly introduced the cultivation market. Lastly, he cautioned that demonic cultivators were extremely dangerous, especially to mortals; if things went awry, Qin Sang should flee for his life as quickly as possible. This was the extent of what he could do for him.
Qin Sang estimated the distance in his mind. Traveling on horseback, riding by day and resting by night, it would probably take several years to arrive. Fortunately, he discovered a great river west of the Great Sui called the Tianlu River, which ran north to south. The Wuling River was merely one of its tributaries.
Taking a boat along that river would be much faster.
Stowing the silk scroll, he toyed with the jade medallion for a moment, resisting the urge to probe it with spiritual power. He nodded to the Palace Master of Chaosheng Palace, who was waiting nearby, and walked down the mountain.
Night fell, cloaking the world. From Mount Chaosheng, one could overlook the entire Imperial Capital. Yuyu Palace was brightly lit; with the new emperor ascending the throne and a hundred tasks awaiting attention, the court assembly of the officials had likely not yet adjourned.
Chapter 49