The Iron Thumb Ring

Retrieving a jade casket, Qin Sang carefully sealed away Daoist Jiupao's golden core. He could not help the flash of delight that crossed his face, and he exhaled a long breath. Though this venture had been fraught with twists and turns, his primary objective was finally accomplished. After putting away the golden core, Qin Sang reached out and picked up the iron thumb ring. He was inwardly astonished; the ring was unimaginably heavy, proving it was indeed out of the ordinary. He examined it closely. There were no inscriptions inside or out, and the rust was concentrated mostly on the inner ring, blending together into an almost unbroken patch. Qin Sang could not tell how the rust had formed, and after several attempts, even shaping his spiritual power into a blade failed to scrape it away. Whenever he swept his spiritual sense over the thumb ring, it passed through effortlessly without detecting the slightest abnormality. It truly appeared to be nothing more than a ring crafted from ordinary dark iron. Could he have guessed wrong? Did this ring simply hold some sentimental meaning for Daoist Jiupao? Qin Sang's brow furrowed. He still refused to believe Daoist Jiupao would flee to the ends of the earth carrying an ordinary piece of iron. Suddenly, an idea struck him. Turning the ring over, he stared intently at the rust on the inner band, then sent his spiritual sense carefully forward to probe the rusted surface. He was exceptionally thorough, leaving no corner unchecked. A moment later, Qin Sang's expression shifted. His spiritual sense seemed to brush against a hidden node, and with a muffled roar, he plunged into a chaotic expanse of space. Before Qin Sang could even discern what manner of place it was, a dazzling radiance erupted within the space. The radiance took the form of a saber, slashing toward his spiritual sense at an astonishing speed. In an instant, the blade beam was upon him. Reacting with remarkable speed, Qin Sang frantically pulled his spiritual sense back. To his shock, the blade beam shot straight out from the iron thumb ring, tracing the path of his retreating spiritual sense to strike him down! Though slender, the beam carried an edge of absolute lethality, nearly giving Qin Sang a cold sweat. A peal of thunder rang out. Qin Sang instinctively cast the thumb ring aside, his body transforming into a streak of sword light. Executing Sword Qi Thunderclap, he darted several zhang away in the blink of an eye, finally escaping the blade beam. He stared at the iron thumb ring with a complicated expression. The aura of that blade beam unmistakably belonged to Daoist Jiupao. It was a spiritual sense restriction the man had placed inside the ring; though he was dead, the restriction endured. Anyone other than Daoist Jiupao who triggered the restriction would immediately face the lethal assault of that blade beam. Picking the ring up once more, Qin Sang was now prepared. After testing it several times, he found that the power of the restriction was not so formidable that it could never be broken. After all, it was now a masterless object. With Daoist Jiupao dead, one did not necessarily need to be stronger than Jiupao had been to unravel it. It was just that Qin Sang certainly could not accomplish it right now. Without opening the restriction, he had no way of knowing the thumb ring's true function, but that chaotic space felt remarkably familiar, bearing a faint resemblance to a mustard seed bag. Could this iron thumb ring also be a storage artifact? Qin Sang pondered silently. If the ring were some powerful offensive or defensive magic treasure, Daoist Jiupao would surely have used it against him long ago. Storage was indeed the most likely possibility. In that case... all of Daoist Jiupao's wealth was inside this ring! Qin Sang's eyes lit up. Ji Wu's mustard seed bag had been obliterated in that final explosion, and he had assumed Daoist Jiupao's bag had suffered the same fate. He had never expected this unexpected windfall. Setting aside whatever treasures lay within, the thumb ring itself was far more discreet and secure than any mustard seed bag. What a pity he could not open it yet! Qin Sang felt a pang of regret. Given the strength of the restriction, he would likely have to wait until he broke through to the Golden Core stage before he could breach it. Such a matter could hardly be entrusted to someone else's aid. Still, Qin Sang suspected Daoist Jiupao had little left to his name anyway. Hounded like a stray dog by the Yuanzhao Sect for so many years, Jiupao had only managed to eke out a meager existence once their vigilance slackened, and that had only been for a few brief years. Moreover, Daoist Jiupao had not dared show his face, forced to rely entirely on his subordinates to operate in the shadows. Of his Four Demon Flame Emissaries, only two had truly shared his heart: Silver Flame, whom Qin Sang had dispatched early on, and Ji Wu. During this recent period, Daoist Jiupao had cowered in hiding, not only tending to his injuries but also repairing the Ten Directions Yanluo Banner. No fortune, no matter how substantial, could withstand such continuous drain. Daoist Jiupao's performance during this battle had made that abundantly clear. From start to finish, he had only managed to field a single Ten Directions Yanluo Banner to keep up appearances. Reminded of the banner, Qin Sang pocketed the iron thumb ring, stood, and surveyed the ground. Amid the sand and silt, he located Daoist Jiupao's Ten Directions Yanluo Banner. With this, of the five Ten Directions Yanluo Banners handed down by Patriarch Kuiyin, three had now fallen into Qin Sang's hands. The three Golden Core masters of the Kuiyin Sect were completely wiped out, and the surviving late Foundation Establishment experts among them had all perished at Qin Sang's hands as well. It could truly be said that the lineage of Patriarch Kuiyin, once a peerless demonic overlord, was thoroughly extinguished! The cloth of this Ten Directions Yanluo Banner had been torn open by the Flying Yaksha, but the core of the magic treasure remained undamaged, making it not particularly difficult to repair. Even so, just like Yu Hua's banner, repairing it would have to wait until Qin Sang achieved Core Formation. Finally, dragging his exhausted body across the clearing, Qin Sang arrived before the rock wall and pried the Flying Yaksha out from the stone. Its limbs were twisted, its body covered in countless wounds, and pale shards of bone protruded in numerous places. The most grievous damage lay at its dantian. The sea of qi was nearly destroyed, and the corpse core was webbed with cracks. Fortunately, the core had not shattered entirely, meaning it could still be salvaged. Witnessing the Flying Yaksha's wretched state, Qin Sang sighed softly, though a sense of relief soon followed. This was already the best possible outcome. Refining a Flying Yaksha was far too difficult; if he had to start anew, Qin Sang possessed little confidence he could succeed a second time. The Flying Yaksha could still recover; it merely needed time. A damaged corpse core was not something Qin Sang could mend with his own hands; the Flying Yaksha would have to nurse it back to wholeness on its own. If it remained inside the corpse puppet pouch, the process would likely take an extraordinarily long time. He would probably need to place it in the depths of Dichen Cave, allowing it to absorb earth fiend qi day and night, to achieve the swiftest recovery. After a meticulous inspection, Qin Sang treated its superficial flesh wounds and stored it away in the corpse puppet pouch. The pouch was now nearly empty, with only two middle Foundation Establishment baleful corpses remaining. This battle had nearly stripped Qin Sang of his entire accumulation. *** The moon hung high in the night sky. Hanshan City. The heavy gates of the Ji clan's ancestral hall were tightly shut, leaving only the clan head, Ji Sheng, inside. The forbidden grounds had returned to silence, but no one could find peace of mind, nor did anyone dare venture there to investigate. Amid the prevailing dread, Ji Sheng had sternly ordered the clan members back to their quarters to meditate, choosing to remain alone in the ancestral hall. The hall was quiet, the candlelight burning in silence. Ji Sheng sat like a withered husk, his cloudy eyes fixed upon the ancestral tablets, lost in unknown thoughts. Suddenly, an errant breeze stirred out of nowhere. The candlelight flickered, casting the room into momentary gloom. Ji Sheng whipped his head around, only to behold with horror that a refined corpse had appeared behind him at some point. Floating in the empty air beside it were glowing characters traced in spiritual power. "I was an acquaintance of Ji Wu in life, and once received his aid. This corpse possesses the strength of the Foundation Establishment stage. I leave it to the Ji family to safeguard a few generations of peace." As soon as Ji Sheng finished reading, the characters wavered and dissolved into nothingness. Eyes wide, Ji Sheng leapt to his feet and darted outside the ancestral hall in a single stride. Yet outside, moonlight only bathed the courtyard. A sea of stars filled the sky. There was not a single silhouette to be seen. "My son..." Facing the direction of the forbidden grounds, Ji Sheng fell to his knees with a heavy thud, a turbid tear dampening the cold stone steps.