Holding the Mustard Seed Bag in his palm, Chen Yan was seeing the real thing for the first time since crossing over. He had wanted to inspect Old Daoist Liu's before, but the old man treasured it dearly, terrified that one glance from Chen Yan would somehow spirit it away.
He ran his fingers over the Mustard Seed Bag's surface. It was exceedingly smooth, like silk. Its material was likely the same as the dharma robe Chen Yan wore, woven from spiritual silk spun by spirit silkworms. Traces of restrictions could be seen upon its surface; those were presumably the key to its storage function.
It should originally have borne Triangular-Eyed Daoist's soul imprint, but with Triangular-Eyed Daoist dead, the soul imprint on the Mustard Seed Bag had naturally scattered on the wind. Chen Yan poured in a thread of Magic Power and opened it with ease.
Triangular-Eyed Daoist's storage space was even smaller than Chen Yan had imagined, only about three chi square—roughly the size of a chest. Compared to Chen Yan's Small Universe in Sleeve, which spanned ten meters square and was comparable to an entire room, it was far too small.
Though the space was small, it contained quite a few things. All sorts of bottles and jars were piled inside, filled with pills Chen Yan did not recognize, along with clothing and even women's bellybands.
Chen Yan cleared out all that miscellaneous clutter and turned his attention to the only two things in the Mustard Seed Bag that appeared somewhat valuable.
One was an ancient-looking old book, while the other was an exquisite rosewood box whose contents were unknown.
He took out the old book first and flipped through it roughly, gaining a general understanding.
This should have been the spellcraft—or rather, the arcane arts—cultivated by