Any other cultivator or demonic beast who entered the Spirit Realm would probably never want to return to the Mortal Realm.
Black Snake also thought the Spirit Realm was indeed wonderful, but that was no reason to disrupt cultivation.
There would be time to absorb some rain essence when it rained in the Spirit Realm. For now, the priority was to get through the particularly significant milestone of turning five hundred, keeping things as steady as possible until then. Black Snake worried that a sudden change in spiritual energy might have an effect, and felt it best to maintain stability for the remaining few decades.
Opening up a few new fields in the Spirit Realm was worth considering, though. Transplanting some medicinal herbs there might help them grow better.
Black Snake crossed mountains and ridges back to the Azure Cloud Monastery.
There would be no time to do business in the County Seat lately, so the silver in the cloth bag needed to be taken back to the cave. Copper coins were money too.
Arriving before the familiar boulder, Black Snake lowered that great head and opened that mouth to pick up the worn cloth bag.
Unexpectedly, the bag tore to pieces.
The copper coins and silver scraps inside spilled clattering across the ground. Black Snake froze, staring down at the scraps of cloth in a long silence.
The bag had lain beneath the rock year after year. The fabric had rotted long ago.
The passage of years brought death and decay not only to living creatures. Even a cloth bag could not escape time.
Time was truly fair, treating humans and demons, living things and lifeless objects alike.
With a gentle breath, Black Snake sucked the silver scraps and copper coins into that mouth, slithered deftly through the forest