"The well had no water, so fetching water for drinking, washing clothes, and watering the garden required going up and down the steep, slippery steps—a task that was especially difficult."

Ming Yue pouted, clearly displeased, as he glanced at Qin Sang with a hint of complaint in his tone.

Noticing Ming Yue's little scheme, Qin Sang smiled faintly. "From now on, Junior Brother, you can take charge of cooking and laundry. Leave the heavy work to me."

"Really?"

Ming Yue jumped up in excitement, clapping his hands. "But that will have to wait until your leg injury heals."

Children were indeed easy to please. Ming Yue suddenly felt much closer 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 wanted to stay far from Daoist Jixin, lest his secrets be discovered.

"Of course," Ming Yue replied, "Master was just about to have me tidy up these rooms. People used to come up the mountain to borrow them, but they’ve gradually moved out. With more refugees arriving from the north, Master said the weather is getting colder, so we should open the rooms to shelter those without a place to stay and help them survive the winter. Some temples on the mountain have already started doing this. Master says we shouldn't seek merit but should do good deeds."

Qin Sang chose a house in the northeastern corner. Inside, it was covered in dust and tangled with cobwebs.

The house actually consisted of three connected rooms, separated by bamboo walls. Each room contained an old bamboo bed. Qin Sang chose the one furthest to the side, where the setting sun cast a warm glow through the window. Through the mountains, he could vaguely see a stretch of river—a beautiful view.

…

The meal was simple: vegetables, pickles, and cornbread. After eating, Qin Sang drank the herbal medicine Ming Yue had brewed for him. The two of them then went up to clean the room, replacing the bamboo on the bed and laying out new bedding. By the time they finished, it was already deep into the night.

Without a clock, Qin Sang had no idea what time it was, but seeing that Ming Yue was yawning constantly, Qin Sang urged him to go rest.

Reluctant to leave after finally having someone to talk to, Ming Yue hesitated. "Senior Brother, I'll go boil some water for you to take a bath."

After practicing the Tiger Subduing Long Fist, Qin Sang washed up and listened carefully for a while. Once he was sure that both Daoist Jixin and Ming Yue were asleep, he carefully closed the doors and windows. In the faint moonlight, he took out the few items he had brought with him to inspect.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he laid out a money pouch, a colorful brocade pouch, a piece of parchment, a wooden sword, the Yan Luo Banner, and a book.

He could think of countless uses for the brocade pouch and parchment, but no matter how he tried, he couldn't open the brocade pouch, so he had to set it aside for now.

Taking the ebony sword in hand, Qin Sang frowned. Should I try using blood?

This thought had been lingering in his mind for quite some time. Gritting his teeth, he used a bamboo shard to cut his finger and let a drop of blood fall onto the ebony sword.

Ignoring the pain in his finger, Qin Sang watched the sword with anticipation.

He saw the drop of blood land on the polished blade, only to slide down and drip onto the floor, where it spread out.

Unwilling to give up, Qin Sang picked up the Yan Luo Banner and repeated the process. He even tried the brocade pouch and parchment, but none of them responded.

Cursing under his breath, Qin Sang picked up the book.

The title

Netherworld Scripture

was emblazoned in large characters at the beginning of the book. It consisted of only a few thin pages, each filled with obscure and difficult-to-understand text, some of which contained characters he didn't recognize. Qin Sang skimmed through it quickly and found that the last two pages contained a section on the Yan Luo Banner, though he couldn’t comprehend it either.

At the very least, this book had something to do with the Yan Luo Banner.

The man in black had used the Yan Luo Banner to perish alongside the boy—it was undoubtedly a divine artifact!

Thinking that this book might indeed be a manual for cultivating immortality, Qin Sang's heart burned with excitement. However, he also realized that even if it was a genuine cultivation method, he had to understand it first. Otherwise, if he went astray and fell into madness, he wouldn’t even know how he died.

To comprehend it, he needed to recognize the characters. It seemed he would have to settle down and study the scriptures at Qingyang Temple for a while.

This mountain temple was extremely quiet, with ample food and drink. Staying here wouldn’t be a problem, and he also needed time to sort out his chaotic thoughts.

Although he had inherited the memories of Qin Sanwa, Qin Sang didn’t have deep emotional ties to Qin Sanwa’s family. Moreover, Qin Sanwa's parents likely believed that he had died at the hands of mountain bandits by now.

Perhaps it was better not to meet them. He could make amends if the opportunity arose in the future.

He had no desire to return to Wang Village. Even if he didn’t seek immortality, he wouldn’t want to be trapped in such a place, living a mundane life.

If he hadn't witnessed the flying sword with his own eyes, Qin Sang would have pursued wealth, power, and fame in this life, just as he had in his previous life. He would have schemed and struggled on the ship, doing everything he could to climb higher.

Bai Jianglan had said that immortals were hard to find, but this

Netherworld Scripture

gave Qin Sang hope. Perhaps I really do have a chance...

His thoughts were in disarray, and he didn’t know when he had fallen asleep. The night passed dreamlessly, and the next morning, Qin Sang was awakened by the sound of birds chirping. The daylight had already brightened the sky.

Qin Sang quickly got up, dressed, and, leaning on his crutch, made his way down. Just as he reached the back door of Qingyang Hall, he heard the sound of chanting and the rhythmic tapping of a wooden fish[1] coming from inside.

Entering cautiously, he saw Daoist Jixin and Ming Yue performing their morning ritual before the incense table. Three people seeking medical help had already arrived in the main hall, along with a layperson who was chanting along with Daoist Jixin.

Not wanting to disturb them, Qin Sang remained silent. Ming Yue glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, winked, and signaled for him to go to the front.

Understanding his gesture, Qin Sang nodded to the people seeking medical attention and made his way to the woodshed in the courtyard, where he found a bowl of mixed congee left for him on the stove, still warm.

After washing his face, he quickly gulped down the congee, and a busy day began.

With Qin Sang’s help, the pressure on Daoist Jixin and Ming Yue was significantly reduced.

Though Qin Sang knew nothing of medicine, he sat behind the desk, assisting with record-keeping and grinding herbs.

The old Daoist was truly versatile—he diagnosed patients, prescribed treatments, drew talismans, told fortunes, and recited scriptures for blessings.

Ming Yue busied himself with greeting patients and pilgrims, boiling water, preparing medicine, and cooking meals.

Time passed unnoticed until the sky began to darken. After seeing off the last patient, Ming Yue bolted the temple doors, and the three of them set to work cleaning the cluttered main hall.

"Today is the seventh," the old Daoist remarked, studying the calendar for a while before flipping through a few pages of the account book. "Tomorrow, I must go down the mountain to perform two small rituals. You two will stay here to watch over the temple."

As he spoke, Daoist Jixin stood up and rummaged through the medicine cabinet. "On the ninth and tenth, I’ll need to go to the depths of Huanghuang Mountain to gather herbs. If any patients come up the mountain, Ming Yue, you handle the minor ailments. If you're unsure, tell them to return on the eleventh. Now, go prepare dinner, and after we eat, we’ll perform the evening ritual."

"Yes, Master."

Qin Sang followed Ming Yue outside and noticed a hint of disappointment on his face. After inquiring, he learned that Daoist Jixin went up the mountain to gather herbs every month. This time, he would be going to Huanghuang Mountain, deep within the mountain range, where the terrain was treacherous and many rare herbs grew.

In addition to healing the sick, whenever an auspicious day arrived, families would request Daoist Jixin to descend the mountain to perform rituals.

This was a profitable business, but they couldn’t compete with the monks and the large Daoist temples. Usually, when performing these rituals, Daoist Jixin would take Ming Yue down the mountain to broaden his experience.

Qin Sang realized that Daoist Jixin still wasn’t confident in leaving him on his own.

1. A wooden fish, also known as a Chinese temple block, wooden bell, or muyu, is a type of woodblock that originated from East Asia that is used by monks and lay people in the Mahayana tradition of Buddhism. ☜