Chapter 9: Nether Sutra

“There’s no water in the well. We have to go up and carry water for drinking, washing clothes, and watering the garden. The steps are high and slippery; it’s especially difficult to walk.”

Mingyue pouted, his tone filled with dissatisfaction, his small eyes stealing glances at Qin Sang.

Noticing Mingyue’s little scheme, Qin Sang smiled slightly. “From now on, Junior Brother, you’ll be responsible for the laundry and cooking. Leave these rough chores to your Senior Brother.”

“Really?!”

Mingyue jumped up, clapping his hands in delight. “But that’ll have to wait until your leg injury heals, Senior Brother.”

Children were indeed easy to win over; Mingyue immediately grew close to Qin Sang.

Qin Sang looked around and pointed to the last row of houses. “May I choose one of these to live in?”

He harbored secrets that could not be revealed, and he wanted to stay as far away from Daoist Jixin as possible to avoid being discovered.

“Of course you can,” Mingyue said. “Master was just about to have me clean these rooms out. People used to come up the mountain to borrow them, but they’ve all moved away one by one. Now that there are more and more refugees coming from the north, Master says the weather is getting colder. He wants to open up these rooms to take in people who have nowhere to stay and help them survive the winter. Some temples on the mountain have already started doing this. Master says we don’t seek merit, but we must perform good deeds.”

Qin Sang picked the room in the northeast corner. It was covered in dust and tangled with spiderwebs.

It was actually three rooms connected together, separated by bamboo walls. Both inner rooms had old bamboo beds. Qin Sang chose the one on the far end. The setting sun shone right in, and through the window, one could faintly see a stretch of river amidst the mountains—the scenery was excellent.

……

The meal consisted of greens, pickled vegetables, and corn buns. After eating and drinking the herbal medicine Mingyue had brewed for him, the two of them went up to clean the room together. They replaced the bamboo on the bed and laid out the bedding, and by the time they were finished, it was already late at night.

Without a clock, Qin Sang didn’t know what time it was. Seeing Mingyue yawning repeatedly, he urged him to go back and rest.

Mingyue, having finally found someone to talk to, was reluctant to leave. “Senior Brother, I’ll go boil a pot of water so you can bathe.”

Qin Sang practiced a set of Tiger-Subduing Long Fists, washed up, and listened carefully for a while. Once Daoist Jixin and Mingyue had fallen asleep, he carefully closed the doors and windows. By the light of the moon, he took out the items he had on him to examine them.

He sat cross-legged on the bed, lining up the money pouch, the colorful silk pouch, the parchment, the wooden sword, the Yama Banner, and the book.

He could instantly think of countless uses for the silk pouch and the parchment, but no matter how he tried, he couldn't open the pouch, so everything else was moot.

He had to set them aside for now.

Picking up the ebony sword with one hand, Qin Sang frowned. Should he drip blood on it?

This thought had been swirling in his mind for a long time. Finally, hardening his heart, he used a bamboo splinter to cut a slit in his finger and dripped a drop of fresh blood onto the ebony sword.

Ignoring the pain in his finger, Qin Sang watched the sword with anticipation. He saw the blood land on it, only to slide right off the smooth surface of the blade.

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

Unwilling to give up, Qin Sang picked up the Yama Banner and tried the same trick. Finally, he tried the silk pouch and the parchment as well, but none of them showed any reaction.

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

*The Nether Scripture*—the three large characters at the head of the book. It was thin, only a dozen pages long, and every sentence was obscure and difficult to understand. There were also many characters he didn't recognize. Qin Sang flipped through it to the end and found that the last two pages contained a section titled "Yama Banner," the content of which was equally incomprehensible.

At the very least, this book was related to the Yama Banner.

The man in black had used the Yama Banner to perish together with the youth; it must be a divine artifact of the immortals!

Thinking that this book was highly likely to be a manual for immortal cultivation, Qin Sang’s heart suddenly burned with excitement. However, he also realized that even if it were a true cultivation method, he had to be able to read it. Otherwise, if he were to suffer a deviation in his cultivation, he wouldn't even know how he died.

The prerequisite for understanding was literacy. It seemed he really needed to settle down and study scriptures at Qingyang Temple for a while.

This mountain temple was extremely quiet, and there was food and drink; staying here wouldn't be a bad thing. He also needed to sort out his chaotic thoughts.

Although he had inherited the memories of Qin Sanwa, Qin Sang didn't have such deep, bone-marrow feelings for Qin Sanwa’s family. Besides, Qin Sanwa’s parents must surely think he had died at the hands of mountain bandits by now.

It was better not to see them; he would compensate them if he had the chance in the future.

He didn't want to return to Wang Family Village. Even if he didn't seek immortality, he didn't want to be trapped in a place like that, living a mediocre life.

If he hadn't seen the sword-flying immortal with his own eyes, Qin Sang would have been just like his past life, seeking nothing more than wealth, beauty, power, and fame. He would have spent his time on the boat scheming and maneuvering, and wouldn't have left the ship so easily.

Bai Jianglan said that immortals were hard to find, but this *Nether Scripture* gave Qin Sang hope. Perhaps he truly had a stroke of fate...

With his thoughts in turmoil, he didn't know when he fell asleep. He had no dreams that night, and the next day, Qin Sang was awakened by the chirping of birds. The daylight was already bright.

Qin Sang hurried to get up, finished tidying himself, and leaned on his crutch to go down. Just as he reached the back door of the Qingyang Hall, he heard the sound of chanting and wooden fish coming from inside.

He walked in cautiously and saw Daoist Jixin and Mingyue performing morning prayers before the incense table. There were already three people seeking medical help in the main hall, along with a lay practitioner chanting along with Daoist Jixin.

Qin Sang didn't dare to make a sound to disturb them. He saw Mingyue glance at him sideways, winking and gesturing for him to go to the front.

Qin Sang understood. He nodded to the people seeking medical help and walked to the woodshed in the courtyard, where he saw a bowl of mixed porridge left for him on the stove. It was still warm.

He washed his face, wolfed down the porridge, and his busy day began.

With Qin Sang’s help, the pressure on Daoist Jixin and his disciple was suddenly much lighter.

Qin Sang didn't know medicine, so he sat behind the table, helping to record information and grind herbs.

The old Daoist was a jack-of-all-trades: diagnosing, prescribing, drawing talismans, interpreting fortune sticks, fortune-telling, and chanting for blessings.

Mingyue was also very busy, receiving patients and pilgrims, boiling water, dispensing medicine, and cooking.

Before he knew it, evening was approaching. After sending off the last patient, Mingyue bolted the temple doors, and the three of them divided the work of cleaning the cluttered main hall.

“Today is the seventh,” the old Daoist said after looking at the almanac for a long time and flipping through a few pages of the account book. “I will go down the mountain tomorrow. There are two small rituals to perform. You two stay and look after the temple.”

As he spoke, Daoist Jixin stood up and rummaged through the medicine cabinet. “On the ninth and tenth, I will go to Huanghuang Mountain to gather herbs. If any patients come up the mountain, Mingyue, you handle the minor illnesses. If you’re not sure, tell them to come back on the eleventh. Go cook now; we’ll have evening prayers after we eat.”

“Yes, Master.”

Qin Sang followed Mingyue out. Seeing the disappointment on Mingyue’s face, he asked and learned that Daoist Jixin went up the mountain to gather herbs every month. This time, he was going to Huanghuang Mountain, which was deep in the mountain range. The terrain was steep, and many rare herbs grew there.

In addition to healing the sick, whenever there was an auspicious day, families would invite Daoist Jixin down the mountain to perform rituals.

This business could make money, but he couldn't compete with the monks and the large temples ahead. Usually, when performing rituals, Daoist Jixin would take Mingyue down the mountain to broaden his horizons.

Qin Sang knew that Daoist Jixin still didn't fully trust him.

I didn't expect that there would be brothers reading and voting on the book with so few words. Thank you for your support.