Chapter 3

Unlike what Qin Sang had imagined, the man in white was very young, looking only about fifteen or sixteen years old. He had a face as fair as jade, arched eyebrows, and star-like eyes. Despite the many grass leaves on his face, his charm remained undiminished, making him the most handsome young man Qin Sang had ever seen in both his lives.

The young man's eyes were wide open, as if questioning the heavens.

Qin Sang gently closed the young man's eyes, hesitated for a moment, and then began to search his body.

The young man was even cleaner than the demon, and after searching even his undergarments, Qin Sang found only a small, colorful brocade pouch.

The pouch was about the size of a palm, adorned with exquisite cloud patterns, made of the finest material, smoother than the best silk from his previous life. The top was tied with a brocade ribbon, hanging from the young man's waist. At first, Qin Sang thought it was a sachet, but upon closer inspection, he found it empty.

Qin Sang tried to open the pouch, but the ribbon was unexpectedly strong.

Qin Sang felt a wave of disappointment. There were no legendary treasures or even gold and silver.

What about the flying sword?

Thinking of the flying sword, Qin Sang felt a surge of excitement. Whether in his past or present life, the legends of sword immortals were always incredibly captivating, stirring the heart.

But no matter how he looked, there was no sign of a flying sword.

Holding the man in white's hands, Qin Sang frowned, noticing that they were tightly clenched, as if holding something. He forced them open and found some pale rock fragments in the left hand and a small wooden sword in the right.

Qin Sang picked up the sword. The surface of the small sword had a dark luster, like a blackwood sword. The craftsmanship was very intricate, with some patterns on it, likely the natural wood grain. Unfortunately, there were no inscriptions.

The blackwood sword was only as long as a pinky finger, heavy in hand, but it had no blade, and the tip couldn't even pierce the skin, making it seem like a toy.

Qin Sang frowned, recalling the moment he saw the flying sword, realizing that the flying sword and the blackwood sword looked exactly the same, but the flying sword was much larger, about the size of a normal sword.

Could these terrifying gullies have been caused by this small sword?

Qin Sang wrapped everything in sheepskin and hid it in his chest, just like the man in black. Suddenly, he heard the sound of crackling. Looking up, he saw that the flames from the tree had spread to the grassland. The wind was favorable, and the riverbank was covered with dry grass, which ignited easily. The fire was spreading rapidly.

He had been too careless!

Qin Sang cursed inwardly. It was too late to retrieve the body, so he bowed to the young man in white and said softly, "I do not know your name or background, but I will keep this brocade pouch as a token. If I ever find your family, I will return it to them!"

After saying this, Qin Sang stared at the young man for a while, memorizing his appearance. He then cut a few slashes on both bodies with his knife. The fabric, though fine, was ordinary, and tore easily. Qin Sang no longer lingered and skillfully crawled toward the river.

Seeing the fire approaching at a visible speed, Qin Sang became very anxious. He hastily searched the bandit's body for two money pouches, tied the raft tightly, and pushed it into the river. He climbed aboard with a knife, and the next moment, the riverbank was engulfed in flames.

*Whoosh...*

The fire raged, and the smoke billowed.

The raft drifted downstream, and Qin Sang felt the current was indeed gentle, so he relaxed. He turned to gaze at the sea of fire.

In an instant, dozens of lives were lost, including the two mysterious sword immortals. Qin Sang felt no great turmoil, only extreme fatigue.

He mustered his strength, took out a few dry cakes from the bandit's body, and ate them greedily with river water. Thinking of the possessions he had risked his life for, he quickly took them out and organized them.

The two money pouches were mostly gold, worth nearly a hundred taels of silver, enough to sustain him for a while. Qin Sang casually counted them and put them away.

He wrapped the book and the brocade pouch in sheepskin and hid them in his chest. He then took a few threads from his clothes, tied the small sword to his neck, and hid it in his collar.

The small sword was unremarkable; if anyone saw it, they would only think it was a wooden amulet, never imagining it was a celestial flying sword.

He had intended to seek help when he saw a village or town, but after traveling for a long time, there was no sign of human habitation. Qin Sang cut a branch to secure his injured leg, lay on the raft, and played with the small sword, gazing at the distance. The sky was faintly visible with scattered smoke.

...

Another car accident!

The terrifying dark vortex appeared again, this time lasting longer and spinning faster.

Qin Sang felt icy cold and almost suffocated. He suddenly sat up, realizing he was still on the raft, and it had only been a nightmare. He had fallen asleep on the raft after escaping the danger.

He didn't know how long he had slept. It was already night, with no moon, and a few stars scattered on the water, broken by the waves.

*Splash!*

Suddenly, a wave hit him, and Qin Sang shivered, fully awake. He realized he was drenched, and the river was much more turbulent than during the day, with waves constantly crashing.

The raft bobbed up and down in the waves. Looking down, Qin Sang broke out in a cold sweat. There was a huge whirlpool ahead, and the raft was drifting toward its center. No wonder he had been dreaming of that scene.

Qin Sang knew the danger of whirlpools and was terrified. He then realized the raft had drifted into a wide river, with turbulent waters and strong winds.

Alone on the raft in the middle of the river, he had no support and could only use the knife to paddle desperately, but it was of little use.

At that moment, a loud voice came from behind.

"Boy on the raft, stop paddling and grab the rope!"

Qin Sang turned and saw a large ship on the river. In the darkness, he could only see a dark outline and a few lights. A lantern was lowered from the ship, and as it swung in an arc over the water, Qin Sang saw it was held by a person.

The person held the lantern in one hand and a rope in the other. He touched the water with his toes and leaped again, walking on the water as if it were solid ground.

Another sword immortal?

Qin Sang was stunned.

"Watch carefully!"

Halfway there, the person shouted again, swinging his arm and throwing the rope into the air. It flew toward Qin Sang with great speed but slowed down as it approached. Qin Sang quickly threw away the knife, struggled to stand up, and grabbed the rope, wrapping it around his waist and holding it tightly.

Seeing Qin Sang's quick action, the person praised him, swung the lantern, and shouted back, "Pull the rope!"

A voice from the ship responded, and the rope instantly tightened, pulling Qin Sang up. As he was about to collide with the ship's side, Qin Sang closed his eyes in terror.

The person kicked the water, leaped into the air, grabbed Qin Sang's collar, and stepped onto the ship's side, leaping onto the deck in a few steps.