Chapter 20: Aftermath

As a thought stirred in Qin Sang's heart, the Yama lurking outside flew in, looking at Qin Sang with fearful eyes before merging into the Yama Banner.

The surface of the Yama Banner shifted, and the pattern of the Yama King reappeared.

Qin Sang commanded it to emerge; the banner's surface distorted, and the Yama King drifted out from the banner, standing upright before Qin Sang, appearing extremely well-behaved.

Qin Sang knew that what the Yama feared was the Jade Buddha, not him, but he didn't care. Recalling the words he had just seen, he commanded, "Give me a Soul Pill."

The Yama's eyes suddenly turned crimson, a flash of ferocity crossing its face before vanishing. It reluctantly opened its mouth and spat out a cloud of black gas, which rapidly condensed into a Soul Pill the size of a longan fruit. Qin Sang caught it in his hand, feeling a chill in his palm.

Looking back at the Yama, its form became flickering and unstable after spitting out the pill, appearing weakened.

Suppressing his urgency, Qin Sang ordered the Yama to return, tidied the messy bed, sat cross-legged, and began circulating his cultivation technique while holding the Yama Banner and the Soul Pill.

Just as the text had stated, as soon as the technique began to circulate, Qin Sang immediately felt the difference. After one complete cycle, the enhancement effect far exceeded before, even surpassing the medicinal baths.

After the initial excitement, Qin Sang felt a sense of worry. The text had stated clearly that if he wanted to obtain more Soul Pills in the future, he would have to let the Yama devour human souls or Yin-煞 (Yin-evil) energy.

How was Qin Sang supposed to know what Yin-evil energy was? Was he truly going to become a murderous demon?

A faint light appeared outside the window. Qin Sang sighed inwardly and lay down in his clothes, deciding not to dwell on these troubling matters for now. He turned his gaze inward, exploring his body like a curious child playing with a new toy.

Finally returning to the place of his soul, the layer of yellow light surrounding his soul remained, but the Buddha's shadow was gone.

...

Too many things had happened this night; his emotions had swung wildly, making the night feel longer than a year.

Soon, dawn broke. Qin Sang feigned normalcy, getting up as usual to stoke the fire, practice martial arts, and perform his morning lessons. It wasn't until noon that he pretended to have just discovered Old Wu's death, calling for the old Taoist with a face full of panic.

The Taoist Master Jixin, as expected, found no suspicious points. He could only conclude that Old Wu had died of sudden cardiac arrest in his sleep due to exhaustion from pulling the ferry every day, his vital essence completely depleted.

Among Old Wu's belongings were a self-defense dagger and a few taels of silver. When the old Taoist suggested reporting it to the authorities, Qin Sang added extra money to buy a thick coffin. He asked the residents of the Taoist temple to help dress Old Wu's body and belongings, found a grave site in the back mountains, and buried him that very day.

Old Wu had no living relatives, so the funeral was kept simple. Only the old Taoist recited a few scriptures for him. Qin Sang knelt before the grave and burned a large basin of paper money, whispering, "Old Wu, go down and live a good life. In the future, I will find a boy to adopt into your name to carry on your family line. Rest in peace."

Though the killer was an evil ghost, it was caused by his own recklessness. He had narrowly escaped death under the protection of the Jade Buddha, but it had made Old Wu a scapegoat.

Qin Sang shook his head and let out a long sigh.

...

The relatives may still grieve, but others have already moved on.

In this world, death is commonplace; the atmosphere in the Taoist temple returned to normal that evening.

But for Qin Sang, another troubling matter arose at night. He discovered that after the *Netherworld Sutra* reached the second level, the enhancement from medicinal baths became negligible, completely ruining his plan to combine Soul Pills with medicinal baths for cultivation.

Unfortunately, Master Jixin had no similar recipes.

Seven days passed in the blink of an eye. After these days of consumption, the Soul Pill had been depleted by nearly half; by his calculations, one Soul Pill could only last about twenty days.

One afternoon, with nothing to do at the temple, Qin Sang and Ming Yue went out again to enjoy a feast.

The bamboo forest was serene. The two crouched by an earthen stove stoking the fire, with four cleaned rabbits and several fat birds beside them.

Now, Qin Sang didn't need traps to find food; with just wooden sticks and stones, he never missed. Anything that moved could not escape his grasp, which left Ming Yue very envious.

With wine and meat, the two leaned against rocks, listening to the rustling wind, feeling quite content. Qin Sang suddenly felt that if he had never seen a deity, spending his whole life here wouldn't be bad at all.

Ming Yue tore off a rabbit leg with his teeth, took a gulp of wine, and followed with a bite of meat. Having practiced martial arts with Qin Sang, not only had he grown taller, but his appetite and tolerance for alcohol had also increased.

Ming Yue suddenly sat up, his ears twitching. He asked in confusion, "Senior Brother, why do I hear pigeons cooing?"

"I've heard it a few times myself," Qin Sang said dismissively. "It's probably kept 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 try in a pigeon soup."

Ming Yue shrunk his neck and giggled, "Don't let the owners find out, lest Master scolds us."

Qin Sang said disdainfully, "You still don't believe in my skills?"

After being full and satisfied, night approached. The brothers returned to the temple together and went to their respective rooms after the evening lessons.

As usual, Qin Sang tidied his bed and held the Soul Pill and the Yama Banner. Before cultivating, he touched the ebony sword at his chest. Compared to the Yama Banner, he was most interested in the ebony sword, but the Qi in his body entered the sword like a stone sinking into the ocean, yielding no response. Even the incantations of the Yama Banner were useless against it, leaving him helpless.

The moonlit night was quiet, save for the chirping of insects—one long and one short—beneath the windowsill.

As Qin Sang was cultivating with intense concentration, his expression suddenly changed. He snapped his eyes open and shouted, "Who's there!"

His eyes darted around, staring fixedly at the corner of the room.

Immediately, the darkness in the corner surged, and a dark figure stepped out—it was a person dressed in night-traveling clothes!

"Who are you!"

Qin Sang was terrified; someone had actually infiltrated his room silently.

His hearing was extremely acute; he had only heard an unusual sound of wind when the person slipped in, which had startled him awake. Otherwise, he might not have noticed even if they had approached him closely.

Who was this person, and what did they want by sneaking into his room? Had his secret been leaked?

As his mind raced, his hand quietly reached for the Yama Banner on the bed.

The man in black stood composed in the room, showing no sign of panic at being discovered. His gaze remained incredibly sharp in the dim room; Qin Sang felt as if two knives were scraping against his body, sending a chill through his entire being.

The man in black looked at Qin Sang with some curiosity. "Tsk tsk... I didn't expect a Taoist in a broken temple to have the vision to see through my movement techniques. So, Old Wu died at your hands?"

Old Wu's death was Qin Sang's greatest psychological burden. He had thought his preparations were seamless, but to be suddenly exposed by a stranger sent a shock through his heart, and his gaze tightened slightly.

"Is it really you?"

The man in black narrowed his eyes, a terrifying murderous intent instantly erupting from his gaze. He said grimly, "Old Wu reported that there were only two young Taoists in the temple who knew martial arts, nothing to worry about. I didn't expect him to capsize in a gutter! Kid, I'm very curious about who you actually are. Even the assassins of Jiangshan Tower couldn't fall for your tricks!"

Qin Sang hadn't expected the man in black to be so sharp; he had only shown a tiny flaw, and it had been captured. At the same time, he found it strange; from this person's words, Old Wu was no ordinary man. Was his identity as a ferryman a lie?

Old Wu had been lurking in the temple for half a year—what was his purpose?

"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 the ferry every day. It has nothing to do with me! There wasn't a single wound on his body. If you don't believe me, go open the coffin and examine the corpse!"