Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Ancient Immortal Pouch

The forest was dense and lush.

“Sir…” Gu Cang hurried over, shaking his head. “I couldn’t find it…”

Qingyuan’s brows were tightly knit.

The seven tiger-wolves had already been sent out, searching in every direction.

Only near the cave at the rear did they refrain from searching, out of respect for the old monk.

“Could it truly be in that direction?”

Qingyuan hesitated slightly; he truly did not wish to provoke the old monk again.

“It was my oversight.” Qingyuan closed his eyes, silent for a long moment.

Gu Cang and the eight tiger-wolves outside had battled with a pack of demonic wolves, slaughtering them all.

But the first wolf, disguised as a middle-aged woman, had been wounded at the flank by Gu Cang and nearly pursued by the remnants of the Beast Taming Sect. Seizing the opportunity, it escaped.

Perhaps it was during Qingyuan’s battle with the remnants of the Beast Taming Sect, or perhaps when Qingyuan employed psychological tactics against the old monk.

“A wild wolf attaining intelligence—if it escapes, so be it.” Qingyuan frowned. “But I fear it has followed the remnants of the Beast Taming Sect for years, gained awareness, and learned their deadly arts. If so, the escaped wolf will surely bring harm to countless innocents.”

Gu Cang considered this. “Could it still be near the cave? Shall I go investigate once more?”

“That old monk is not to be trifled with. We’ve already disrupted his cultivation, and it’s fortunate he hasn’t come our way. Returning might carry unpredictable consequences.” Qingyuan shook his head. “Search the area once more, and if nothing turns up, we’ll depart…”

Gu Cang acknowledged, about to speak.

Just then, a distant, lingering sound echoed.

A wolf’s howl!

“We’ve found it.” Qingyuan’s eyes flashed with light. “It’s in the northwest…”

As his words fell, he leapt forward, channeling true energy to his feet, swift as a hurricane.

Gu Cang glanced at the long blade in his hand, noticing a barely perceptible crack, a look of pain crossing his face. He took up his spear and followed.

…

A tiger-wolf remained at the site.

It was a fierce beast conjured by Qingyuan, using a wooden sculpture and wrapping it in talisman paper—an art known as “paper-cutting for horses.”

It had fought fiercely many times and was now battered and scarred; this time, tasked to search the surroundings, it encountered the intelligent evil wolf but failed to keep it, only wounding it and recovering an item the wolf carried in its mouth.

“So it escaped after all?”

Qingyuan exhaled, saying, “Gu Cang, follow the traces and see if you can catch up and kill it.”

Gu Cang replied and set off in the indicated direction.

Qingyuan withdrew his gaze and looked at the tiger-wolf.

He had previously refrained from retrieving it because of the old monk, but now, with distance between them, he beckoned. The tiger-wolf rolled to his side and transformed back into a wooden sculpture wrapped in talisman paper.

In truth, the talisman paper was the essence of the paper-cutting for horses technique, but Qingyuan’s skill was insufficient, so he used the wooden sculpture as a foundation.

The talisman paper was now ragged and nearly ruined, its runes disrupted and half-destroyed. This had diminished the tiger-wolf’s abilities, allowing the evil wolf to escape.

Qingyuan crushed the talisman paper to ash, examined the scarred wooden sculpture, and thought, “I’ve already achieved success in cultivation; paper-cutting for horses and drawing talisman papers is not difficult. The damage to the sculpture isn’t too severe—it can be repaired.”

He stowed the wooden sculpture and used true energy to summon the remaining tiger-wolves.

He felt fairly satisfied with the seven tiger-wolves left.

He had anticipated that, to slay all the intelligent evil wolves, perhaps only Gu Cang would survive, and these tiger-wolves would fight to share the burden. If even half remained, it would be fortunate.

Unexpectedly, of the eight, only one was lost, leaving seven.

Though these seven were battered, being animated wooden sculptures and talisman papers, their injuries were not critical.

Talisman papers could be redrawn, wooden sculptures repaired—it was no real loss.

After gathering the tiger-wolf, he turned to the cloth bag it had recovered.

“This is what the wolf tried to carry away?”

Qingyuan pondered; he did not know where the evil wolf had obtained this bag.

Perhaps it had been hidden by the remnants of the Beast Taming Sect elsewhere, or perhaps, during the struggle, it snatched it from the cave.

Even in flight, it remembered to take this cloth bag—what could be inside?

The bag was about half the size of a person, its color dull and dark yellow tinged with black, the mouth tied with a dark golden cord.

He held the bag in one hand, pulled the cord with the other, and looked inside—it seemed empty.

“Something’s wrong…”

Qingyuan suddenly recalled something, his gaze sharpening, filled with doubt.

He tied the bag again, channeled true energy, and loosened the cord.

Looking again, its contents had changed dramatically.

He infused it with true energy and reached inside.

Though half the size of a person, the interior spanned nearly a yard in diameter, spacious as a small room.

“To compress the universe in one’s palm, to contain Mount Sumeru within a mustard seed, to transform rivers and mountains into a mere inch.”

Qingyuan’s face showed astonishment; he gasped. Had his temperament been less composed, he might have cried out, “Ancient Immortal Bag?”

The Beast Taming Sect possessed a supreme treasure called the Ancient Immortal Bag, left by the sect’s founding ancestor.

Long ago, a scholar, unsuccessful in the imperial examinations, inherited his family trade and went to sea as a fisherman. One day, a storm damaged his boat, forcing him to land on a deserted island.

On the island, he discovered an immortal’s abode.

Inside was the remains of an immortal.

This immortal had met misfortune during cultivation, was previously injured by others—a calamity he could not overcome—and died, his soul extinguished.

Before dying, he opened his abode for a destined successor.

The scholar was that person, who received the legacy and founded the Beast Taming Sect.

Later, he mastered a technique for refining artifacts and, eventually returning to the abode, used the immortal’s remains to craft the Ancient Immortal Bag.

The dark golden cord at the mouth was actually made from a flood dragon’s tendon.

Legend held that the Ancient Immortal Bag was only half the size of a person, yet its interior could store the contents of a room—just like the one in hand. There was little doubt it was the same object.

“That demon said before that, in recent years, he’s been hiding from place to place like a rat, wary of outsiders seeking the Beast Taming Sect’s legacy.”

Qingyuan was inwardly shocked. “So it was because the sect’s supreme treasure had fallen into his hands. Perhaps the other sect treasures and techniques are inside as well?”

He circulated true energy and probed within.

There were neither stacks of manuals nor magical artifacts—just a few scattered items, divided into categories.

“How strange… With such a treasure of the Beast Taming Sect, why are there so few things inside?”

Qingyuan was astonished.

He did not know that, years ago, the White Crane Child, arrogant and proud, destroyed the Beast Taming Sect but disdained mortal sects, so he never bothered to search for treasures or techniques, nor the technique hall or treasure vault—most were obliterated by his sword.

What remained was later claimed by other cultivators who searched the ruins.

As for the remnant of the Beast Taming Sect, he was not at the mountain during the disaster and escaped. When he returned, he relied on fragments of knowledge overheard in his youth to locate the forbidden grounds and, by chance, obtained the Ancient Immortal Bag.

The mouth was originally bound tight, only accessible to those skilled in the sect’s arts.

The man spent many years, day and night, finally wearing down the dragon tendon and opening the bag—thus he could now easily access the Ancient Immortal Bag.

The evil wolf, wounded by Gu Cang and pursued by Qingyuan and Gu Cang, knew it could not survive—neither Qingyuan nor its master would spare it.

Cunning and sly by nature, the wolf seized the chance to escape and, not content to merely flee, snatched the Ancient Immortal Bag.

But it was intercepted mid-escape by Qingyuan’s tiger-wolf.

Unable to defeat the tiger-wolf, and in desperation, the wolf abandoned the Ancient Immortal Bag and vanished into the depths of the mountain.