Chapter 2

Flying Sword!

Qin Sang suddenly opened his eyes, immediately blinded by the harsh sunlight, and quickly closed them again.

His throat was parched, and pain surged through his body like a tide. Qin Sang propped himself up with his arms, realizing he had fallen off the prison cart at some point and had been lying unconscious on the ground. His right leg was trapped under a broken cage, which explained the intense pain in his calf; it might have been crushed.

How did the prison cart overturn?

Qin Sang struggled to recall the memories before he lost consciousness, his head throbbing. He managed to sit up and opened his eyes to see a scene of utter chaos in the distance.

Ancient trees by the riverbank were either fallen or broken, some as if struck by lightning. A tree was engulfed in flames, and the thick smoke was choking.

The vast expanse of yellow grassland was unrecognizable, as if it had been ravaged by wild boars. Deep furrows crisscrossed the ground, with white roots intertwining.

When the convoy passed, the riverbank had been perfectly flat.

Qin Sang stared at the scene, finally piecing together some fragments of his memory.

A man in white descended from the sky, and the bandits knelt on the ground, shouting "Immortal Master"...

The flying sword pierced the black-clothed carriage, which exploded with a loud "boom." A figure in a black robe flew out, and the two seemed to have a deep-seated grudge. They started fighting immediately, and then he heard a strange sound before losing consciousness.

What happened after he lost consciousness?

Both of them could fly, which was clearly not normal. The bandits called them "Immortal Masters," so were they really immortals?

Qin Sang had heard many stories about immortals when he was young, but he had always thought they were superstitions. Now, it seemed that might not be the case.

Who won between the two Immortal Masters?

Qin Sang saw no trace of the Immortal Masters. He scanned the area and saw the prison carts scattered, the cages on them mostly smashed. The prisoners who had been confined in the cages were now lying in all directions.

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

Qin Sang quickly lifted his hand, his expression slightly changing. He carefully felt the person's wrist and found no pulse.

Dead…

Perhaps because he had died once before, Qin Sang's courage was greater than in his previous life. Despite the corpse beside him, he felt little fear.

Is anyone still alive?

Qin Sang hurriedly looked at the others, who were all lying motionless on the ground, including the horses pulling the carts. There was no sign of movement, and the scene was eerily still.

Suddenly, Qin Sang noticed a group of people lying by the riverbank. The bandits had been cutting trees to build rafts, but they had all knelt and called the man in white "Immortal Master" when he appeared. For some reason, they had also lost consciousness.

Qin Sang's eyes widened. The bandits were strong and hadn't fallen; they were likely just unconscious, not dead!

With this thought, Qin Sang hurriedly leaned forward, struggling to lift the wooden cage off his leg. He gasped in pain but suppressed it, fearing it might alert the bandits.

His leg mustn't be broken; otherwise, even if he escaped, he wouldn't be able to survive in this wilderness.

Qin Sang silently prayed and examined his leg.

Fortunately, the bone wasn't broken.

But when he tried to move, the pain was intense. At the very least, it was a fracture, and he wouldn't be able to walk for a while.

Even if he had to crawl, Qin Sang was determined to do so. He found a knife on a bandit's waist, cut the ropes binding his hands and feet, and began to stab the bandits. He aimed for their hearts but was blocked by their sternums, causing his hand to ache. He then cut their throats and finished with a stab to the heart.

He stared at his blood-soaked hands for a while before realizing that the bandits had already been dead when he stabbed them. He had been acting out of a kind of madness, one stab after another.

He was afraid, not of the corpses, but of himself.

He threw the knife away and crawled to the river, burying his face in the water until he was nearly suffocated. He then lifted his head, gasping for air, and his emotions gradually calmed.

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

If he had realized this in his previous life, he wouldn't have ended up like this.

No!

There's one more!

Qin Sang suddenly became alert, cold sweat breaking out. He relaxed only when he saw a corpse pierced with wooden splinters, realizing the leader had been next to the black-clothed carriage when it exploded and had died instantly.

All the bandits were dead, but Qin Sang still didn't dare to relax. He used a stick to support himself.

Seeing the full extent of the chaos on the grassland, Qin Sang couldn't help but marvel. Was this the result of the two Immortal Masters' battle? The power was terrifying.

In the midst of the wild grass, two figures lay, one in black and one in white.

Reason told Qin Sang that these Immortal Masters were not normal humans, unlike the bandits. This was the best time to escape. Although his leg couldn't walk, the river was calm, and there was a nearly completed raft nearby. He just needed to tie the last two vines and could leave this place of chaos.

After a moment of internal struggle, Qin Sang picked up the knife and crawled over.

Up close, he saw that the black-clothed man had been cut in half at the waist, the flying sword clearly extremely sharp, with a smooth cut, which was somewhat eerie.

The white-clothed man had a shocking blood hole in his chest, as if something had been violently ripped out, leaving a mess of blood and organs.

They had both died in a mutual destruction.

Qin Sang felt a mix of relief and disappointment.

He carefully lifted the black-clothed man's black robe and was startled by the old, ugly face. He then searched the man's body. The Immortal Master seemed to be very poor, with no silver on him. Qin Sang found only a piece of sheepskin and a book.

He flipped through the book, recognizing most of the characters, but the content was obscure and difficult to understand. The sheepskin was blank, except for its unusual softness, and was just a regular piece of skin.

"Huh?"

Qin Sang suddenly noticed something under the black-clothed man's body. He moved the man's upper body and saw a black banner on the ground.

The banner was small, the pole only as long as his palm, with a sharp tip and a rounded bottom. Qin Sang examined it closely. The pole was made of an unknown material, cold to the touch, with three small characters carved on it—Yanluo Banner!

It sounded ominous, and combined with the scene of the demon sucking people dry, Qin Sang almost threw the Yanluo Banner away.

The banner's flag was a long, tattered piece of cloth, slightly shorter than the pole, with many holes. A vague image of a demon could be seen.

The more he looked, the more he felt his consciousness being drawn in, and he quickly looked away.

Indeed, it was sinister!

This demon had nothing good on him!

Qin Sang wrapped the Yanluo Banner haphazardly, along with the book, in the sheepskin and turned to look at the white-clothed man, his expression complex.