Aftermath

As Qin Sang willed it, the Yanwang, hiding outside, flew in. Its fearful gaze fixed on Qin Sang before it merged into the Yanluo Banner.

The banner's surface shifted, and the Yanwang's image reappeared.

Qin Sang commanded it to emerge. The banner twisted, and the Yanwang floated out of the Yanluo Banner once more, standing obediently before Qin Sang.

Qin Sang knew the Yanwang feared the Jade Buddha, not him, but he didn't mind. Recalling the text he had just read, he commanded, "Give me a Soul Pill."

The Yanwang's eyes suddenly turned crimson, a fierce expression flashing across its face before vanishing. It reluctantly opened its mouth and spat out a ball of black mist. The mist quickly condensed into an eye-sized Soul Pill. Qin Sang caught it, his palm turning cold.

Looking at the Yanwang again, its form flickered after expelling the Soul Pill, appearing weakened.

Suppressing his impatience, he ordered the Yanwang back. He tidied the messy bed, sat down cross-legged, and gripped the Yanluo Banner and the Soul Pill, activating his cultivation technique.

Just as the text described, as soon as the technique began to circulate, Qin Sang immediately felt a difference. One cycle completed, the improvement effect far surpassed anything before, even stronger than the medicinal baths.

After his initial joy, Qin Sang felt a pang of worry. The text clearly stated that to obtain more Soul Pills in the future, he would need the Yanwang to devour human souls or Yin煞 qi.

Qin Sang had no idea what Yin Sha qi was. Did he really have to become a murderous Demon Lord?

A faint light appeared outside the window. Qin Sang sighed inwardly and lay down fully clothed, deciding not to dwell on these troublesome thoughts for now. He internally surveyed his body, like a child with a new toy, his consciousness roaming throughout him.

Finally, it returned to his soul. The layer of yellow light around his soul remained, but the Buddha's image was gone.

So much had happened that night, his emotions swinging wildly, making the night feel longer than a year.

Dawn broke quickly. Qin Sang feigned ignorance, getting up as usual to light the fire, practice martial arts, and perform his morning rituals. Only at noon did he pretend to just discover Old Wu's death, shouting for the old Daoist master in feigned panic.

Daoist Master Jixin, as expected, found no suspicious signs. He could only conclude that Old Wu, who had pulled the ferry rope daily, had overworked himself to death, his vital energy depleted, leading to a sudden death in his sleep.

Among Old Wu's belongings was a dagger for self-defense and a few taels of silver. When the old Daoist master told Qin Sang to report it to the authorities, Qin Sang added money to buy a sturdy coffin, asked the residents of the Daoist temple to help prepare Old Wu's body and belongings, found a burial plot in the back mountains, and buried him that same day.

Old Wu had no surviving relatives, so the funeral was kept simple. Only the old Daoist master recited a few scriptures for him. Qin Sang knelt before the grave, burning a full basin of paper money, and whispered, "Old Wu, have a good life in the afterlife. I will find a young man later to adopt your name and continue your family line. Rest in peace."

Although an evil spirit was the killer, it was his rashness that led to the incident. He had narrowly escaped death thanks to the Jade Buddha's protection, but Old Wu had become a scapegoat.

Qin Sang shook his head, sighing deeply.

"Relatives may mourn, but others sing their songs."

In this world, death was commonplace, and the atmosphere in the Daoist temple returned to normal that evening.

However, for Qin Sang, another troublesome matter arose that night. He discovered that after the Netherworld Scripture advanced to the second level, the medicinal baths had a negligible effect on his cultivation, completely shattering his idea of combining Soul Pills and medicinal baths for cultivation.

Unfortunately, Daoist Master Jixin had no similar remedies.

Seven days passed in the blink of an eye. After these days of consumption, a small portion of the Soul Pill had been used up. By calculation, one Soul Pill could only last about twenty days.

That afternoon, with nothing happening at the Daoist temple, Qin Sang and Mingyue went out again for a good meal.

In the serene bamboo forest, the two squatted by the earthen stove, tending the fire. Beside them were four washed rabbits and several plump birds.

Now, Qin Sang didn't need traps to find food; he could hit his mark with a wooden stick and stones without missing. Nothing that moved could escape his grasp, which greatly impressed Mingyue.

With wine and meat, the two leaned against rocks, listening to the rushing wind, feeling quite content. Qin Sang suddenly thought that if he had never seen immortals, living here for a lifetime wouldn't be bad.

Mingyue tore a rabbit leg with his teeth, took a swig of wine, and then a bite of meat. He had started practicing martial arts with Qin Sang, and not only had his height increased, but his appetite and tolerance for alcohol had also grown.

Mingyue suddenly sat up, his ears twitching. He asked doubtfully, "Senior Brother, why do I hear pigeons?"

"I've heard them several times," Qin Sang said nonchalantly. "Perhaps they're kept in a temple on the front mountain. Pigeons are very nourishing. When I'm in the mood, I'll catch a few for you to try pigeon soup."

Mingyue shrunk his neck and giggled, "Don't let the owner find out, lest Master scold us."

Qin Sang scoffed, "Don't you trust my skills?"

After eating and drinking their fill, as night approached, the two brothers returned to the Daoist temple together. After their evening rituals, they retired to their respective rooms.

As usual, Qin Sang tidied his bed and then held the Soul Pill and the Yanluo Banner. Before cultivating, he touched the ebony sword at his chest. Compared to the Yanluo Banner, he was most interested in the ebony sword, but the qi in his body entered the ebony sword as if it had fallen into the sea, with no reaction. The incantations for the Yanluo Banner were also useless against it, leaving him helpless.

The moonlit night was quiet, with only the short and long chirps of insects beneath the windowsill.

Qin Sang was concentrating on his cultivation when his expression suddenly changed. He opened his eyes and shouted, "Who!"

His eyes darted around, fixing on the corner of the wall.

Immediately, the darkness in the corner of the wall stirred, and a shadowy figure emerged. It was someone dressed in night-blooming clothes!

"Who are you!"

Qin Sang was startled, someone had silently infiltrated his room.

His hearing was very sharp; he had only caught an unusual rustle of wind when the person infiltrated, which had woken him. Otherwise, he might not have noticed until they were right beside him.

Who was this person, and what did they want in his room? Had his secret been leaked?

Qin Sang's thoughts raced as his hand stealthily reached for the Yanluo Banner on the bed.

The black-clothed figure stood calmly in the room, showing no sign of panic at being discovered. Their eyes remained sharp in the dim room, and Qin Sang felt as if two knives were scraping him, sending a chill down his spine.

The black-clothed figure looked at Qin Sang with some surprise. "Tsk tsk... I didn't expect a Daoist priest in a dilapidated temple to have the eyesight to see through my movements. So, Old Wu died by your hand?"

Old Wu's death was Qin Sang's biggest concern. He thought his cover-up was flawless, but being exposed by a stranger, Qin Sang's heart trembled, and his gaze narrowed slightly.

"It really was you?"

The man in black narrowed his eyes, a terrifying killing intent instantly erupting within them. He said chillingly, "Old Wu reported that there were only two young Daoist priests who knew martial arts in the temple, posing no threat. I never expected him to be capsized in a ditch! Kid, I'm very curious about who you are. Even a killer from Jiangshan Tower can fall prey to you!"

Qin Sang hadn't expected the man in black to be so sharp. He had only revealed a slight opening, and the man in black had already caught on. He was also a bit puzzled. Judging by this person's words, Old Wu wasn't an ordinary person either. Could his identity as a boat tracker be fake?

What was Old Wu's purpose in lurking in the Daoist temple for half a year?

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

Qin Sang suppressed his voice and flatly denied it. "Old Wu died from exhaustion because he was pulling ropes at the ferry crossing every day. It has nothing to do with me! There isn't a single scratch on his body. If you don't believe me, go open the coffin and conduct an autopsy!"