Chapter 2: Flying Sword

Mortal World

Flying Sword!

Qin Sang suddenly opened his eyes, immediately squinting as the scorching sunlight blinded him. He quickly closed them again.

His throat was unbearably dry, and an omnipresent pain washed over him like a tide. Qin Sang propped himself up with his arms, realizing he had fallen out of the prisoner cart at some point and had been lying on the ground unconscious. His right leg was pinned under a broken cage, explaining the intense pain in his lower leg; it might even be broken.

How did the prisoner cart overturn?

Qin Sang struggled to recall his memories from before losing consciousness. His head throbbed, but he managed to sit up. Looking around, he saw a scene of utter devastation in the distance.

Ancient trees on the riverbank were either toppled or snapped, some appearing to have been struck by lightning. One tree was engulfed in flames, and the thick smoke carried by the wind was suffocating.

The vast expanse of yellow grass flat was also unrecognizable, looking as if wild boars had rooted through it. Many deep furrows were exposed on the ground, with pale white grass roots intertwined.

When the convoy arrived, the river flat had been perfectly smooth.

Qin Sang stared blankly at the scene, finally piecing together some fragmented memories.

A white-robed figure descended from the sky, and the bandits all knelt, shouting, "Immortal Master!"

A flying sword shot towards the black-draped carriage. The carriage exploded with a loud boom, and a person in black robes flew out. The two seemed to have a grudge, immediately fighting upon meeting. Then, he thought he heard a strange sound before losing consciousness.

What happened after he passed out?

Both individuals could fly, which was clearly abnormal. The bandits called them "Immortal Masters," so could they be real immortals?

When Qin Sang was a child, he had also heard many stories about immortals. He had always thought they were mere superstitions, just like in his previous life, but now it seemed that might not be the case.

Which of the two Immortal Masters won?

Qin Sang saw no sign of the Immortal Masters. Scanning his immediate surroundings, he saw prisoner carts strewn about, and most of the cages on them were smashed. His fellow prisoners, who had been trapped in the cages, lay scattered across the ground.

No wonder it felt so soft beneath his hand; he was resting his hand on someone's stomach.

Qin Sang quickly lifted his hand, then froze slightly. Cautiously, he reached out and felt the person's wrist. There was no pulse.

Dead...

Perhaps because he had already died once, Qin Sang's courage was far greater than in his previous life. Even with a corpse lying beside him, he felt little fear.

Was anyone else alive?

Qin Sang quickly looked at the others. Everyone lay motionless on the ground, even the horses pulling the carts, with no signs of breathing. The scene was eerily still.

Suddenly, Qin Sang glimpsed a group of people lying on the riverbank. These were the bandits who had been chopping trees to build rafts. After the white-robed figure appeared, they had all knelt and called him "Immortal Master," and for some unknown reason, they too had fallen unconscious.

Qin Sang's expression abruptly changed. Those bandits were strong and hadn't suffered any falls. It was highly possible they were just unconscious, like him, and not dead yet!

Thinking this, Qin Sang quickly leaned forward and struggled to lift the wooden cage pinning his leg. He sharply gasped, unable to stop a pained groan, but fearing he might alert the bandits, he forced it back down.

His leg absolutely could not be broken. Otherwise, even if he escaped, he would find it difficult to survive in these desolate mountains.

Qin Sang silently prayed as he pulled his leg free to examine it.

Thankfully, the bone wasn't broken.

But when he tried to exert force, another wave of intense pain hit him. It was at least a hairline fracture, making walking impossible for a while.

Even if he had to crawl, Qin Sang was determined to reach them. He found a knife at a bandit's waist. First, he cut the ropes binding his hands and feet. Then, one by one, he targeted the bandits. He initially tried to stab them in the heart, but one blow was blocked by a rib cage, jarring his hand. So, he resorted to slitting their throats first, then finishing with a stab to the heart.

Staring blankly at his blood-soaked hands for a long moment, Qin Sang finally realized that the bandits hadn't made a sound when he stabbed them; they had already been dead. Yet, he had acted like a madman, stabbing them repeatedly.

He felt a flicker of fear, not of the corpses, but of himself.

He threw away the knife, crawled to the riverbank, and plunged his face into the water. Only when he was nearly suffocating did he suddenly lift his head, gasping for air, his emotions slowly calming.

If I don't kill them, they will kill me!

If he had understood this truth in his previous life, would he have met such a fate?

Wait!

There's still one more!

Qin Sang suddenly shivered, cold sweat almost breaking out. Only when he saw a corpse riddled with splinters did he finally relax, collapsing to the ground. The bandit leader had been next to the black-draped carriage when it exploded and died instantly.

Even though all the bandits were dead, Qin Sang dared not relax. He propped himself up with a wooden stick.

When he saw the full extent of the grassy flat in the distance, Qin Sang secretly marveled. Was this truly the result of two Immortal Masters fighting? The destructive power was simply terrifying.

Amidst the wild grass, two figures lay prone: one in black, one in white.

Reason told Qin Sang that these two Immortal Masters were not ordinary people, unlike the bandits. This was the best time to escape. Although his leg prevented him from walking, the river wasn't swift, and a nearly completed raft lay nearby. If he tied the last two vines, he could leave this troubled place.

After an internal struggle, Qin Sang picked up the knife and crawled towards them.

Only upon getting closer did he see clearly: the black-robed man had been sliced in half at the waist by a sword. The flying sword must have been incredibly sharp, as the cut was perfectly smooth, a truly gruesome sight.

The white-robed man had a horrifying bloody hole in his chest, as if something had violently ripped through it. His flesh was mangled, and his internal organs were churned into a mess.

They had actually killed each other.

Qin Sang felt a secret relief, mixed with a hint of disappointment.

Cautiously lifting the black-robed man's black robes, Qin Sang was startled by an ancient, ugly, and grotesque face. He then began searching the body. This Immortal Master seemed quite impoverished, carrying no silver at all. Qin Sang ultimately found only a piece of something resembling sheepskin and a book near his chest.

He flipped through the book; he could recognize most of the characters, but they were obscure and difficult to understand. The sheepskin piece had nothing on it; aside from being unusually soft, it appeared to be just an ordinary piece of hide.

"Huh?"

Qin Sang suddenly noticed something pinned beneath the black-robed man's body. Moving his upper torso, he saw a black banner on the ground.

The banner wasn't large. Its pole was only the length of his palm, pointed at the top and smoothly rounded at the bottom. Qin Sang picked it up and examined it closely. He didn't know what material the pole was made of, but it felt cold to the touch. Three small characters were carved on it: "King Yama Banner!"

It didn't sound like a good item. Combined with the memory of the demon previously draining people dry, Qin Sang almost threw the King Yama Banner away.

The banner's cloth was a long, narrow, tattered piece, slightly shorter than the pole. It had many holes, but faintly, a grotesque ghost pattern could still be discerned.

After a couple more glances, Qin Sang felt as if his consciousness was being drawn in and quickly looked away.

It's indeed sinister!

There was nothing good on this demon!

Qin Sang haphazardly wrapped the King Yama Banner, bundled it with the book in the sheepskin, and then turned to look at the white-robed man, his gaze complex.