Unlike what Qin Sang had imagined, the man in white looked very young, only fifteen or sixteen at most. His face was like a jade crown, his brows like swords and eyes like stars. Though his face was covered in grass leaves, it did nothing to diminish his bearing. He was the most strikingly handsome youth Qin Sang had seen in both his lives.
The youth's eyes were wide open, as though demanding answers from the heavens.
Qin Sang gently closed the white-robed youth's eyes. After hesitating for a moment, he began searching him as well.
The youth was even cleaner than that Demon Lord. Qin Sang searched down to his underpants and found only a Seven-Colored Brocade Pouch.
The pouch was palm-sized and decorated with exquisite cloud patterns. Its material was superb, smoother to the touch than even the finest silk from Qin Sang's previous life. A brocade ribbon drew its opening shut, and it had hung at the youth's waist. At first, Qin Sang had thought it was a sachet, but later discovered it was not. It seemed to contain nothing at all.
Qin Sang tried opening it, but failed. That ribbon was far tougher than he had imagined.
Where was that flying sword?
At the thought of the flying sword, Qin Sang's heart burned with excitement. Whether in his past life or this one, there had always been legends of sword immortals. Every tale was immensely captivating, enough to set one's heart racing.
Yet Qin Sang looked left and right. Where was there any sign of the flying sword?
He picked up the white-robed man's hands and frowned. The youth's fists were tightly clenched, as if holding something. Qin Sang hurriedly pried them apart with all his strength. In the left hand were several pale fragments of stone; from the right fell a small wooden sword.
Qin Sang picked up the sword. Its surface seemed covered in a layer of black sheen, like an Ebony Sword. The craftsmanship on its blade was exquisitely detailed, marked with several lines that were likely the natural grain of the wood itself. Unfortunately, there was no inscription.
This Ebony Sword was only as long as a little finger. It felt rather heavy in his hand, yet it had no edge, and its tip could not even pierce a finger. It looked like a toy.
Frowning, Qin Sang recalled the scene when he had seen the flying sword. He realized that the flying sword looked exactly like the Ebony Sword, except it was much larger—about the size of an ordinary treasured sword.
Had these terrifying ravines been caused by this tiny sword?
Qin Sang wrapped everything in sheepskin and hid it against his chest, just as the man in black had done. Suddenly, a succession of crackling sounds reached him. Propping himself up, he saw that the flames on the tree had somehow spread onto the grassy bank. The wind flowed freely here, and the riverbank was covered in dry yellow grass that caught at the first spark. The fire was about to surge up.
Careless!
Qin Sang cursed himself inwardly. There was no time to collect the bodies, so he bowed to the white-robed youth and said softly, "I do not know your name or origins, benefactor. I will keep this pouch as a token. If fate allows me to find your family someday, I will return it to its rightful owner!"
After speaking, Qin Sang stared at the youth for a while, committing his features to memory before skillfully crawling toward the riverbank.
Seeing the flames rush toward him at a visible speed, Qin Sang grew frantic. He hastily searched two money pouches from the bandits, fumbled to secure the raft, pushed it into the river, and climbed aboard with a saber in hand. The next moment, flames swallowed the riverbank.
"Whoosh, whoosh..."
The blazing fire roared, and thick smoke billowed.
The raft drifted downstream. Qin Sang tested the current and found it truly gentle, which put him at ease. He turned his head and stared at the sea of flames.
In the blink of an eye, dozens of lives had vanished, leaving not even bones behind—including those two mysterious immortal masters. Yet Qin Sang felt no great stir in his heart. He only felt exhausted to the very marrow.
He forced himself to stay alert, took out several dry cakes he had found on the bandits, and wolfed them down with river water. Then, remembering the possessions he had exchanged his life for, he hurriedly took them all out and sorted through them.
The two money pouches contained mostly gold, worth nearly a hundred taels of silver. It was enough for him to spend freely for quite some time, but Qin Sang merely counted it casually before putting it away.
He wrapped the books and the brocade pouch in sheepskin and hid them close against his chest. Then he pulled several cotton threads from his clothes, tied up the little sword, hung it around his neck, and tucked it into his collar.
The little sword was utterly unremarkable. Even if others saw it, they would only take it for a wooden protective charm. They would never imagine it was an immortal flying sword.
He had planned to go ashore and seek help as soon as he saw a village or town. Yet after drifting for a long while, there was still no trace of human habitation. Qin Sang cut off a branch to brace his lower leg, lay on the raft, and toyed with the little sword between his fingers as he gazed behind him. His expression shifted uncertainly. Faintly, drifting smoke could still be seen on the horizon.
Another car accident!
That terrifying vortex of darkness appeared again and again. This time, it lasted especially long, and spun faster and faster.
Qin Sang's entire body turned icy cold. He was nearly suffocating when he suddenly jolted upright, only to discover that he was still on the raft. It had merely been a nightmare. Once he had escaped danger, his mind had relaxed, and in his exhaustion, he had somehow fallen asleep on the raft.
He did not know how long he had slept. It was already night. There was no moon beneath the starry sky, and a few points of starlight scattered across the river, shattered into fragments by wave after wave.
Splash!
A wave suddenly crashed over him. Qin Sang shivered and woke completely, only to realize in alarm that he was soaked from head to toe. The river here was swift, with waves rising one after another. It was far from as calm as it had been during the day.
The raft rose and fell amid the waves. Qin Sang lowered his head for a look and immediately broke out in a cold sweat. A massive whirlpool lay ahead, and the raft was drifting straight toward its center. No wonder he had kept dreaming of that scene.
Qin Sang knew how terrifying whirlpools could be. His face drained of color as he finally realized that the raft had somehow drifted into a broad, mighty river. Its waters surged endlessly, while fierce winds whipped up perilous waves.
Alone on a solitary raft in the middle of the river, with no one to rely on, he could only paddle desperately with his saber. But it did little good.
Just then, a shout suddenly came from behind him.
"Kid on the raft, stop paddling! Grab the rope!"
Qin Sang turned around and saw a large ship stopped on the river. In the darkness, he could make out only a black silhouette and scattered points of lamplight. A lantern was lowered from the ship, then swept in an arc and dropped toward the water. Only then did Qin Sang see clearly that it was held in someone's hand.
The person held a lantern in one hand and a rope in the other. The instant he touched the water, he tapped it with the tip of his foot and leaped back into the air. In this way, he did not sink, striding over the waves as though walking on level ground.
Another immortal master?
Qin Sang stared so hard his eyes nearly popped out.
"Watch carefully!"
When he was halfway there, the man shouted again. He viciously swung his arm, whipping the rope into the air. With a whoosh, it flew toward Qin Sang. Its momentum was swift and fierce, but much of its force dissipated before it reached him. Qin Sang hurriedly threw away the saber, struggled to his feet, seized the end of the rope, and without pause wrapped it once around his waist before clinging to it tightly.
Seeing how quick-witted Qin Sang was, the man praised him. He swung the lantern and shouted back, "Haul the rope!"
A cry rang out from the ship. The rope instantly snapped taut, and a tremendous force sent Qin Sang flying through the air. Seeing himself about to smash headfirst into the ship's rail, Qin Sang squeezed his eyes shut in terror.
The man kicked off the water and soared into the air. He grabbed Qin Sang by the collar, stepped on the ship's side, and leaped aboard in several bounds.
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