Netherworld Scripture

"There's no water in the well. For drinking, washing clothes, and watering the garden, we have to carry water up from below. The steps are high and slippery, especially hard to walk on."

Mingyue pouted, sounding dissatisfied as his little eyes secretly glanced at Qin Sang.

Noticing Mingyue's little scheme, Qin Sang smiled faintly. "From now on, Junior Brother, you'll be in charge of washing clothes and cooking. Leave these rough chores to Senior Brother."

"Really?"

Mingyue jumped up and clapped happily. "But we'll have to wait until Senior Brother's leg heals."

Children really were easy to win over. Mingyue immediately grew much closer to Qin Sang.

Qin Sang looked around and pointed at the last row of houses. "Can I choose one to live in?"

He carried secrets that could not be known to others, and he wanted to stay farther away from Daoist Jixin lest he be discovered.

"Of course," Mingyue said. "Master was just telling me to clean up all these rooms. People used to come up the mountain and borrow rooms to stay in, but they gradually all moved away. Now more and more refugees are coming from the north. Master said the weather is getting colder, so we should open up the rooms and take in people with nowhere to live, helping them survive the harsh winter. Some temples in the mountains have already begun doing so. Master said we do not seek merit and virtue, but we must do good deeds."

Qin Sang chose the house in the northeastern corner. Dust lay everywhere inside, and cobwebs tangled across the room.

It was actually three connected rooms, separated by bamboo partitions. The two inner rooms each had an old bamboo bed. Qin Sang chose the outermost room. The setting sun happened to shine in through the window, and a stretch of river could vaguely be seen amid the mountains. The view was excellent.

The meal consisted of vegetables, pickles, and steamed cornbread. After eating and drinking the herbal medicine Mingyue had brewed for him, the two of them went up and cleaned the room together. They even replaced the bamboo on the bed with fresh bamboo and laid out the bedding. By the time they finished bustling about, it was already deep into the night.

There was no clock, so Qin Sang did not know the hour. Seeing Mingyue yawn repeatedly, he urged him to go back and rest.

Mingyue had finally found someone to talk to and was reluctant to leave. "Senior Brother, I'll boil a pot of water so you can bathe."

Qin Sang practiced a round of Tiger Subduing Long Fist, washed up, and listened carefully for a while. Only after confirming that Daoist Jixin and Mingyue had both gone to sleep did he carefully shut the doors and windows. By a sliver of moonlight, he took out the few things on his person and examined them.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he laid out the money pouch, Seven-Colored Brocade Pouch, sheepskin parchment, wooden sword, Yanluo Banner, and book in a row.

He could instantly think of countless uses for the brocade pouch and the sheepskin parchment, but no matter how he tried, he could not open the pouch. There was no point discussing anything else.

He could only set them aside for now.

Picking up the Ebony Sword in one hand, Qin Sang frowned. Did he need to drip blood on it?

The thought had been circling in Qin Sang's mind for half the day. Gritting his teeth, he used a bamboo splinter to cut his finger, letting a drop of blood fall onto the Ebony Sword.

Ignoring the pain in his finger, Qin Sang watched the Ebony Sword with an expectant expression. The blood landed on it, then slid down the gleaming blade.

Qin Sang watched helplessly as the blood dripped onto the floor and spread out.

Unwilling to give up, Qin Sang picked up the Yanluo Banner and repeated the same trick. In the end, he even tried the brocade pouch and sheepskin parchment. Not one of them reacted.

Qin Sang cursed under his breath and picked up the book.

"Netherworld Scripture." Three large characters greeted him on the first page. The book was a mere dozen or so pages thick, every sentence obscure and difficult to understand, with many characters he did not recognize. Qin Sang roughly flipped to the end and found that the final two pages contained a section titled "Yanluo Banner," whose contents were equally incomprehensible.

At the very least, this book was connected to the Yanluo Banner.

The man in black had used the Yanluo Banner to perish together with the youth. It had to be an immortal artifact!

Thinking that this book was very likely an immortal cultivation scripture, Qin Sang's heart immediately burned with excitement. But he also realized that even if it truly was a cultivation method, he first had to understand it. Otherwise, if he went astray in his cultivation, he might die without even knowing how.

The prerequisite for understanding it was literacy. It seemed he truly needed to settle down and study the scriptures at Green Goat Temple for a while.

This Taoist temple in the mountains was exceptionally quiet, with food and drink provided. There was no harm in staying, and he also needed to sort through his chaotic thoughts.

Though he had inherited Qin Sanwa's memories, Qin Sang did not share Qin Sanwa's bone-deep feelings for his family. Besides, Father Qin and Mother Qin surely believed that he had already died at the hands of bandits.

Perhaps it was better not to see them. He could make it up to them if he had the chance in the future.

He did not wish to return to Wang Village. Even if he did not seek immortality, he did not want to be trapped in that sort of place, living an ordinary life.

If he had not seen an immortal flying on a sword with his own eyes, Qin Sang would have been just as he was in his previous life, seeking nothing beyond wealth, women, power, fame, and profit. While on the boat, he surely would have racked his brains to climb his way upward rather than disembark so easily.

Bai Jianglan had said immortals were hard to find, but this Netherworld Scripture let Qin Sang see hope. Perhaps he truly had a fated opportunity...

His thoughts were in turmoil. He did not know when he fell asleep. He dreamed nothing that night, and the next day, Qin Sang was awakened by birdsong. The sky was already bright.

Qin Sang hurriedly got up, tidied himself, and made his way down with his crutch. As soon as he reached the rear door of Green Goat Hall, he heard chanting and the sound of a wooden fish coming from within.

He carefully walked in and saw Daoist Jixin and Mingyue performing their morning recitation before the incense table. Three people seeking treatment had already arrived in the main hall, along with a lay devotee chanting scriptures together with Daoist Jixin.

Qin Sang did not dare make a sound and disturb them. He saw Mingyue cast him a sidelong glance and wiggle his brows at him, signaling for him to go to the front.

Understanding at once, Qin Sang nodded to the people seeking treatment and went to the woodshed in the courtyard. On the stove, he found a bowl of coarse porridge that had been left for him, still warm.

After washing his face, he wolfed down the porridge, and a busy day began.

With Qin Sang helping, the pressure on Daoist Jixin and Mingyue immediately lessened considerably.

Qin Sang did not understand medicine, so he sat behind the desk, helping record prescriptions and grind medicinal herbs.

The old Daoist diagnosed illnesses, wrote prescriptions, drew talismans, interpreted fortune slips, told fortunes, recited scriptures, and prayed for blessings. He could be called a master of every trade.

Mingyue received patients and worshippers, boiled water, prepared medicine, and cooked. He was also extremely busy.

Before they knew it, evening had fallen. After seeing off the last patient, Mingyue barred the temple gates, and the master and his two disciples divided the work of cleaning the messy main hall.

"Today is the seventh," the old Daoist said after studying the almanac for quite some time and flipping through several pages of account books. "This humble Daoist will go down the mountain tomorrow. There are two small rituals to conduct. You two stay behind and look after the temple."

As he spoke, Daoist Jixin rose and rummaged through the medicine cabinet. "On the ninth and tenth, this humble Daoist will go to Huanghuang Mountain to gather herbs. If patients come up the mountain, Mingyue can handle minor ailments. If you are unsure, have them return on the eleventh. Go prepare the meal. After eating, we will perform the evening recitation."

"Yes, Master."

Qin Sang followed Mingyue out. Seeing the disappointment on Mingyue's face, he asked and learned that Daoist Jixin went into the mountains every month to gather herbs. Huanghuang Mountain, where he was going this time, lay deep within the mountain range. Its terrain was steep and dangerous, and many rare medicinal herbs grew there.

Besides healing the sick and saving the dying, whenever an auspicious day arrived, households would invite Daoist Jixin down the mountain to perform rituals.

This line of work could earn money, but they could not compete with the monks and great Taoist temples farther ahead. Usually, when conducting rituals, Daoist Jixin would take Mingyue down the mountain to broaden his horizons.

Qin Sang knew that Daoist Jixin still did not trust him.

I never expected readers to vote for this book when it had so few words. Thank you all for your support.