Chapter 9: The Netherworld Scripture

The Mortal World

“There’s no water in the well, so we have to carry water up for drinking, washing clothes, and watering the garden. The steps are high and slippery, making them very difficult to navigate.”

Mingyue pouted, his voice full of dissatisfaction, as his small eyes furtively glanced at Qin Sang.

Qin Sang sensed Mingyue’s hidden thoughts and smiled faintly. “From now on, little brother, you’ll be in charge of laundry and cooking. I’ll handle the heavy chores.”

“Really?!”

Mingyue jumped up, clapping his hands happily. “But only after your leg injury has healed, senior brother.”

Children are indeed easy to win over. Mingyue immediately felt close to Qin Sang.

Qin Sang looked around and pointed to the last row of houses. “Can I choose one of these to stay in?” He carried a secret that couldn’t be revealed and wanted to keep some distance from Daoist Jixin to avoid discovery.

“Of course,” Mingyue said. “Master was just telling me to clean up all these rooms. In the past, people used to come up the mountain to borrow houses, but they gradually moved away. Now, with more and more displaced people coming from the north, Master said the weather is getting colder. He wants to open up the houses to shelter those without a place to stay and help them get through the winter. Some temples on the mountain have already started doing this. Master says we don’t seek merit, but we must do good deeds.”

Qin Sang chose the house in the northeast corner. It was covered in dust and tangled with cobwebs. It was actually three connected rooms, separated by bamboo walls. The two inner rooms had old bamboo beds. Qin Sang picked the outermost one, where the setting sun shone directly in. Through the window, he could faintly see a stretch of river amidst the mountains—a very pleasant view.

The meal consisted of vegetables, pickled greens, and cornmeal buns. After eating and drinking the herbal medicine Mingyue had prepared for him, they went up together to clean the room. They also replaced the old bamboo bed with new bamboo and laid out the bedding. By the time they finished, it was already late into the night.

Without a clock, Qin Sang didn't know the exact time, but seeing Mingyue constantly yawning, 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 some water for you so you can bathe.”

Qin Sang practiced a set of Fuhu Long Fist, then washed himself clean. After listening carefully for a while and confirming that Daoist Jixin and Mingyue were asleep, he carefully closed the door and windows. By the light of a sliver of moonlight, he took out the items he carried to examine them.

He sat cross-legged on the bed, arranging the money pouch, the colorful silk pouch, the parchment, the wooden sword, the Yama Banner, and the book in a row. He couldn’t discern anything special about the silk pouch and the parchment, so he set them aside for now.

Picking up the ebony sword with one hand, Qin Sang frowned. He couldn’t figure out how this small wooden sword could transform into a flying sword. Should he try dripping blood on it? The thought had been circling in Qin Sang’s mind for a while. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, he used a bamboo sliver to cut his finger, letting a drop of fresh blood fall onto the ebony sword. Ignoring the pain in his finger, Qin Sang watched the ebony sword with eager anticipation. He saw the drop of blood land on it, then simply slide down its smooth surface. Qin Sang watched helplessly as the blood fell to the ground and spread out.

Unwilling to give up, Qin Sang picked up the Yama Banner and tried the same method. Finally, he even tried the silk pouch and the parchment, but none of them showed any reaction. Qin Sang cursed under his breath and picked up the book.

The title, “The Underworld Sutra,” was prominently displayed with three large characters. The book was only a dozen thin pages, and every sentence was obscure and difficult to understand. Many of the characters were unfamiliar to him. Qin Sang quickly flipped to the end, where he found a section titled “Yama Banner” on the last two pages, but its content was equally incomprehensible. At the very least, this book was related to the Yama Banner. The black-clothed man had used the Yama Banner to perish with the young boy, so it must be a divine artifact!

The thought that this book might be a cultivation scripture immediately filled Qin Sang with excitement. However, he also realized that even if it was a cultivation method, he needed to understand it. Otherwise, if he were to suffer qi deviation, he wouldn’t even know how he died. The prerequisite for understanding it was literacy. It seemed he really needed to settle down and study the scriptures at Qingyang Temple for a while. This mountain temple was extremely peaceful, and he had food and drink, so staying was fine. He also needed to properly organize his chaotic thoughts.

Although he had inherited Qin Sanwa’s memories, Qin Sang didn’t feel such deep-seated affection for Qin Sanwa’s family. Moreover, Qin Sanwa’s parents surely believed he had died at the hands of the bandits. Perhaps it was better not to meet them for now. He could compensate them later if he had the chance. 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 such a place, living an ordinary life. If he hadn’t personally witnessed a sword-flying immortal, Qin Sang would have, like in his previous life, only sought wealth, women, power, and fame. He would have certainly schemed diligently on the boat and wouldn’t have disembarked so easily. Bai Jianglan said immortals were hard to find, but “The Underworld Sutra” gave Qin Sang hope. Perhaps he truly had a destiny…

His thoughts were muddled, and he didn’t know when he fell asleep. He had a dreamless night, and the next day, Qin Sang was woken by birdsong, the sky already bright. Qin Sang quickly got up, got ready, and hobbled down with his crutch. As he reached the back door of Qingyang Hall, he heard the sound of chanting and a wooden fish coming from inside. He carefully walked in and saw Daoist Jixin and Mingyue performing their morning prayers in front of the incense altar. Three people seeking medical attention had already arrived in the main hall, along with a lay devotee who was chanting scriptures with Daoist Jixin. Qin Sang dared not 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 patients and walked to the woodshed in the courtyard, where he saw a bowl of mixed congee left for him on the stove, still warm. He washed his face, hastily spooned the congee into his stomach, and a busy day began.

With Qin Sang’s help, the pressure on Daoist Jixin and his disciple significantly eased. Qin Sang didn’t understand medicine, so he sat behind the table, helping to record and grind herbs. The old Daoist priest was a true all-rounder: diagnosing, prescribing, drawing talismans, interpreting omens, divining, and chanting prayers for blessings. Mingyue was also very busy, receiving patients and pilgrims, boiling water, dispensing medicine, and cooking.

Before they knew it, dusk was approaching. After seeing off the last patient, Mingyue bolted the temple gate, and the three, master and disciples, divided the tasks of cleaning the messy main hall.

“Today is the seventh day of the month,” the old Daoist said, holding an almanac and reading it for a long time, then flipping through a few pages of a ledger. “I will be going down the mountain tomorrow. There are two minor rituals to perform, so you two will 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’ll be going to Huanghuang Mountain to gather herbs. If any patients come up, Mingyue can treat minor ailments. For anything uncertain, tell them to come back on the eleventh. Go make dinner now. After eating, we’ll do evening prayers.”

“Yes, Master.”

Qin Sang followed Mingyue out and noticed a hint of disappointment on Mingyue’s face. After asking, he learned that Daoist Jixin went up the mountain to collect herbs every month. This time, he was going to Huanghuang Mountain, deep within the mountain range, which was steep and home to many rare medicinal herbs. Besides healing the sick, on auspicious days, some families would invite Daoist Jixin down the mountain to perform rituals. This business was profitable, but it couldn’t compete with the monks and larger Daoist temples. 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.