Chapter 3: Sailing the Great River

Unlike what Qin Sang had imagined, the man in white was very young, appearing to be only fifteen or sixteen years old. With a face like polished jade, sword-like brows, and star-bright eyes, even with grass and leaves stuck to his face, his elegance remained undiminished. He was the most refined and handsome youth Qin Sang had ever seen in his two lifetimes.

The youth’s eyes were wide open, as if questioning the heavens.

Qin Sang gently closed the white-clad youth’s eyes, hesitated for a moment, and began to search his body as well.

The youth was even cleaner than the devilish man; Qin Sang searched him down to his undergarments, finding only a colorful brocade pouch.

The pouch was the size of a palm, adorned with exquisite cloud patterns. The material was of superior quality, feeling even more delicate than the finest silk from his previous life. A decorative silk ribbon was tied at the top. Hanging at the youth’s waist, Qin Sang had initially thought it was a scent sachet, but later realized it wasn't; it seemed to contain nothing at all.

Qin Sang tried to open the pouch, but couldn't; the silk ribbon was unexpectedly sturdy.

What about the flying sword?

At the thought of the flying sword, a surge of heat rose in Qin Sang’s heart. In both his past and present lives, legends of sword immortals were never in short supply, each one incredibly magnificent and captivating.

But Qin Sang looked left and right—where was the shadow of a flying sword?

He picked up the white-clad man’s hands and frowned, noticing they were tightly clenched, as if holding something. He hurriedly pried them open with all his might. In the left hand were some pale, shattered stone fragments, and from the right hand fell a small wooden sword.

Qin Sang picked up the sword. The surface seemed to have a layer of dark luster, like a piece of ebony. The carving on the sword body was very fine, with some patterns that were likely the natural grain of the wood. Unfortunately, there was no inscription.

This ebony sword was only as long as a little finger. It felt quite heavy in his hand, but it had no edge; the tip couldn't even pierce a finger. It looked like a toy.

Qin Sang frowned, recalling the moment he saw the flying sword, and realized that the flying sword and this wooden sword looked exactly the same, only the former was much larger, the size of a normal precious sword.

Were these terrifying gullies caused by this small sword?

Qin Sang wrapped everything in the sheepskin and, following the black-clad man’s example, hid it against his chest. Suddenly, he heard a continuous crackling sound. He propped himself up and looked: the flames from the tree had somehow spread to the grassy beach. The wind was strong, and the riverbank was covered in dry yellow grass, which caught fire instantly. The blaze was about to take hold.

Careless!

Qin Sang cursed under his breath. There was no time to bury the body, so he bowed to the white-clad youth and whispered, "I do not know your name or origin, benefactor. I will keep this pouch as a token. If I have the chance to find your family in the future, I will return it to its rightful owner!"

After speaking, Qin Sang stared at the youth for a while to memorize his face, then skillfully crawled toward the river.

Seeing the fire approaching at a visible speed, Qin Sang grew anxious. He hurriedly snatched two money bags from the mountain bandits, scrambled to tie the raft together, pushed it into the river, and climbed on with a knife in hand. The next moment, the flames engulfed the riverbank.

*Whoosh, whoosh...*

The fire raged, and thick smoke billowed.

The raft drifted downstream. Qin Sang felt the water and realized the current was indeed gentle, so he relaxed and turned to stare at the sea of fire.

In the blink of an eye, dozens of lives were gone, leaving no trace of bones, including the two mysterious immortal masters. Qin Sang felt no great turmoil in his heart; he only felt exhausted to the extreme.

He forced himself to stay alert, picked up a few dry biscuits he had scavenged from the bandits, and wolfed them down with river water. Thinking of the belongings he had traded his life for, he hurriedly took them out to organize them.

The two money bags contained mostly gold, worth nearly a hundred taels of silver—enough for him to squander for a while—but Qin Sang just counted them casually and put them away.

He wrapped the book and the pouch in the sheepskin and hid them against his chest. Qin Sang then pulled a few cotton threads from his clothes to tie the small sword, hung it around his neck, and tucked it inside his collar.

The small sword was unremarkable. Even if someone saw it, they would only think it was a wooden amulet; they would never guess it was an immortal’s flying sword.

He had intended to go ashore to seek help once he reached a village or town, but after traveling for a long time, there was no sign of human life. Qin Sang cut a branch to splint his lower leg and lay on the raft, fiddling with the small sword while gazing behind him, his expression shifting. In the distance, smoke and dust could still be faintly seen in the sky.

...

Another car accident!

That terrifying dark vortex appeared again and again. This time, it lasted especially long and spun faster and faster.

Qin Sang felt cold all over, as if suffocating. He sat up with a start, only to realize he was still on the raft; it had just been a nightmare. After escaping danger, his mind had relaxed, and in his exhaustion, he had fallen asleep on the raft.

He didn't know how long he had slept. It was already night, a starry night without a moon. A few points of starlight scattered on the water, shattered by layers of ripples.

*Splash!*

Suddenly, a wave crashed over him. Qin Sang shivered and woke up completely, realizing he was soaked to the bone. The river here was turbulent with constant waves, far from the calmness of the day.

The raft bobbed up and down in the waves. Qin Sang looked down and broke into a cold sweat—there was a massive whirlpool in the water ahead, and the raft was drifting toward its center. No wonder he kept dreaming of that scene.

Knowing the terror of a whirlpool, Qin Sang was horrified. Only then did he realize the raft had drifted into a wide, mighty river. The water was surging, and the wind and waves were treacherous.

Alone on his raft in the middle of the river, with no one to rely on, he could only row desperately with his knife, but it had little effect.

Just then, a shout came from behind.

"Kid on the raft! Stop rowing! Grab the rope!"

Qin Sang turned his head and saw a large ship anchored on the river. In the dark night, he could only see a black silhouette and flickering lights. A lantern was lowered from the ship, and then it traced an arc as it fell toward the river. Only then did Qin Sang see that it was being held in someone's hand.

The person held the lantern in one hand and a rope in the other. The moment they touched the water, they tapped their toes and leaped again, staying afloat and walking on the waves as if on flat ground.

Another immortal master?

Qin Sang’s eyes went wide.

"Aim carefully!"

Halfway there, the man shouted again, swinging his arm hard to cast the rope into the air. It flew toward Qin Sang with a *whoosh*. It was fast, but the force was dampened significantly just before it reached him. Qin Sang hurriedly threw away his knife, struggled to stand up, grabbed the end of the rope, wrapped it around his waist without hesitation, and held on for dear life.

Seeing that Qin Sang was quick-witted, the man praised him, swung the lantern, and shouted back, "Pull the rope!"

At a shout from the ship, the rope instantly went taut. A massive force lifted Qin Sang directly into the air. Seeing he was about to slam into the ship's hull, Qin Sang closed his eyes tightly in terror.

The man kicked off the water, leaped into the air, grabbed Qin Sang by the collar, stepped on the ship's railing, and jumped onto the deck in a few strides.