As Qin Sang’s heart stirred, the Yama that had been hiding outside flew in. It looked at Qin Sang with fearful eyes before merging into the Yama Banner.
The pattern on the face of the Yama Banner shifted, and the image of the Yama reappeared.
Qin Sang ordered it to come out. The banner twisted, and the Yama drifted out once more, standing solemnly before Qin Sang, appearing very obedient.
Qin Sang knew that what the Yama feared was the Jade Buddha, not himself, but he did not mind. Recalling the text he had just seen, he commanded, "Give me a Soul Pill."
The Yama’s eyes suddenly turned scarlet, a flash of ferocity crossing its face. Reluctantly, it opened its mouth and spat out a mass of black mist, which quickly condensed into a Soul Pill the size of a dragon’s eye. Qin Sang caught it in his hand; it felt ice-cold.
Looking at the Yama again, its form flickered after spitting out the pill, appearing as if it had grown weak.
Suppressing his eagerness, he ordered the Yama to return. He tidied up the messy bed, sat cross-legged, and began to circulate his cultivation technique while holding the Yama Banner and the Soul Pill.
Just as the text had stated, the moment the technique began to circulate, Qin Sang immediately felt a difference. After one cycle, the improvement was far beyond what it had been before—even stronger than the medicinal bath.
After the joy subsided, Qin Sang felt a bit troubled. The text made it clear: if he wanted to obtain more Soul Pills in the future, he would have to let the Yama devour human souls or Yin-Sha energy.
Qin Sang had no idea what Yin-Sha energy was. Did he really have to become a murderous demon?
A faint light appeared outside the window. Qin Sang sighed softly, lay down fully clothed, and decided to stop thinking about these vexing matters for now. He turned his focus inward, exploring his body like a child with a new toy, circulating his energy throughout his entire frame.
Finally, he returned to the location of his soul. The layer of yellow light remained around it, but the Buddha image was gone.
...
Too many things had happened that night. His emotions had risen and fallen so sharply that the night felt longer than a year.
Soon, dawn broke. Qin Sang feigned normalcy, rising as usual to tend the fire, practice martial arts, and perform morning lessons. It wasn't until noon that he pretended to have just discovered Old Wu’s death, calling for the old Daoist with a face full of panic.
Daoist Jixin did not find any suspicious points, concluding that Old Wu had been exhausted from pulling boats every day, his essence and energy depleted, leading him to die of shock in his sleep.
Among Old Wu’s belongings was a dagger for self-defense and a few taels of silver. When the old Daoist told Qin Sang to report it to the authorities, Qin Sang added his own money to buy a thick coffin. He asked the other residents of the temple to help shroud Old Wu’s body and belongings, found a plot in the back mountain, and buried him that very day.
Old Wu had no living relatives, so the funeral was kept simple. The old Daoist chanted a few scrolls of scripture for him, and Qin Sang squatted before the grave, burning a full basin of paper money. He whispered, "Old Wu, go have a better life in the next world. In the future, I will find a boy to adopt under your name to carry on the Wu family line. You can rest in peace now."
Although the murderer was an evil ghost, it had been triggered by his own recklessness. He had been lucky to save his own life under the protection of the Jade Buddha, but it had cost Old Wu his life as a scapegoat.
Qin Sang shook his head and sighed deeply.
...
"Relatives may still grieve, while others have already returned to their songs."
In this world, death was too common. By that evening, the atmosphere in the temple had returned to normal.
But for Qin Sang, another vexing matter arose that night. He discovered that after the *Nether Scripture* reached the second level, the medicinal bath’s contribution to his cultivation had become negligible, completely ruining his plan to combine Soul Pills with the medicinal bath.
Unfortunately, Daoist Jixin had no similar recipes left.
In the blink of an eye, another seven days passed. After the consumption over these days, the Soul Pill had been reduced by nearly half; by his calculations, one Soul Pill would last about twenty days.
That afternoon, with nothing to do at the temple, Qin Sang and Mingyue went out to have a feast.
The bamboo forest was secluded. The two of them squatted by an earthen stove, tending the fire, with four cleaned rabbits and several fat birds nearby.
Now, Qin Sang didn't need traps to find food; he never missed with just a wooden stick or a stone. Anything that moved couldn't escape his grasp, which made Mingyue very envious.
With wine and meat, the two leaned against a rock, listening to the rustling wind, feeling quite content. Qin Sang suddenly felt that if he hadn't seen the immortals, living here for the rest of his life wouldn't be so bad.
Mingyue tore off a rabbit leg with his teeth, took a swig of wine, and then ate the meat. Since he started practicing martial arts with Qin Sang, not only had he grown taller, but his appetite for food and wine had also increased.
Mingyue suddenly sat up, his ears twitching. He asked suspiciously, "Senior Brother, why are there pigeons cooing?"
"I've heard it a few times already," Qin Sang said dismissively. "Probably raised in some temple on the front mountain. Pigeons are very nourishing. When I'm in the mood, I'll catch a few for you to taste pigeon soup."
Mingyue shrank his neck and giggled, "Don't get caught by the owner, lest Master scold us."
Qin Sang said disdainfully, "You still don't trust my skills?"
After eating and drinking their fill, as night approached, the brothers returned to the temple together, finished their evening lessons, and went back to their respective rooms.
As usual, Qin Sang tidied his bed and sat holding the Soul Pill and the Yama Banner. Before practicing, he touched the ebony sword at his chest. Compared to the Yama Banner, he was most interested in the ebony sword, but whenever he channeled his internal energy into it, it was like a stone sinking into the ocean—there was no reaction at all. Even the incantations for the Yama Banner were useless against it, leaving him helpless.
The moonlit night was quiet, with only the long and short 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's there!"
His eyes darted, staring fixedly at the corner of the room.
Immediately, the darkness in the corner surged, and a black shadow stepped out—it was a person dressed in night-traveling clothes!
"Who are you!"
Qin Sang was horrified; someone had snuck into his room without a sound.
His hearing was extremely sharp, and he had only heard an unusual gust of wind when the person snuck in, which had startled him awake. Otherwise, he might not have even noticed if they had gotten close to him.
Who was this person, and what did they want by sneaking into his room? Had his secret been leaked?
A thousand thoughts raced through Qin Sang's mind as his palm quietly reached for the Yama Banner on the bed.
The black-clad figure stood calmly in the room, showing no panic at being discovered. Their eyes remained sharp in the dim room, and Qin Sang felt as if two blades were scraping against him, chilling him to the bone.
The black-clad figure looked at Qin Sang with some surprise. "Tsk tsk... I didn't expect a Daoist in a dilapidated temple to have the eyesight to see through my movement technique. Does that mean Old Wu died at your hands?"
Old Wu’s death was Qin Sang’s greatest burden. He had thought his follow-up actions were flawless, but to have them suddenly pointed out by a stranger left Qin Sang deeply shaken, his gaze narrowing slightly.
"It really was you?"
The black-clad figure’s eyes narrowed, and a terrifying killing intent erupted instantly. They said coldly, "Old Wu reported that there were only two little Daoists in the temple who knew some martial arts, nothing to worry about. I didn't expect him to capsize in a gutter! Kid, I'm very curious about who you really are. Even an assassin from the Jiangshan Tower could fall into your trap!"
Qin Sang hadn't expected the black-clad figure to be so sharp; they had caught onto him from just a single slip. At the same time, he found it strange. Listening to this person, Old Wu was no ordinary man. Was his identity as a boatman fake?
Old Wu had been lurking in the temple for half a year—what was his goal?
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
Qin Sang lowered his voice and denied it flatly. "Old Wu died of exhaustion from pulling boats at the ferry every day; it has nothing to do with me! There isn't a single wound on his body. If you don't believe me, go open the coffin and examine the corpse!"