Chapter 117: The Cosmos Bag

Murong Yan evaded Du Anxun’s pursuit and, leading her horse, was about to turn back toward her camp. Suddenly, she heard the sound of wood being chopped, accompanied by a resonant, melodic song echoing from the woods.

At that moment, Murong Yan was famished and parched. She thought, "Since there is someone chopping wood, there must be a household nearby. Why shouldn't I, the Commander, go and ask for a few cups of hot water and a bowl of leftover rice? Once fed and rested, I can return to the barracks."

With this in mind, she led her peach-blossom-colored horse and followed the singing back into the forest. From a distance, she saw a tall, robust man chopping wood. She quickened her pace. As she drew closer, she was struck with astonishment.

What was it? The man was not using an axe to chop the wood; he was splitting it with his bare palms!

For branches as thick as a bowl, he simply swung his hand.

*Whack!*
*Whack!*
*Whack!*

The sounds came in rapid succession, and with every swing of his palm, a branch fell. In no time, the ground was piled high with severed logs.

"Brave warrior, what a marvelous skill!" Murong Yan could not help but exclaim in admiration.

Hearing the praise, the man turned around and saw Murong Yan approaching with her horse. "General, why have you come here?" the warrior asked, cupping his hands in a salute.

"Forgive the intrusion, brave warrior. I am evading pursuing troops and have arrived here exhausted and hungry. I humbly ask for half a bowl of rice and a few sips of hot water. I hope you might grant me this favor," Murong Yan replied, hurriedly returning the salute.

At the same time, she took a good look at the man. He stood nine feet tall with a slender waist and broad shoulders, possessing a formidable build. He wore a loose, dark-colored coarse cotton tunic and light-blue, fine-linen bloomers, with the cuffs tightly bound at the ankles, giving him a clean and agile appearance. On his feet were straw sandals. His face had a bluish tint, and his thick brows and large eyes radiated a piercing, spirited gaze.

"Oh, General, please, come with me! The place where I practice my arts is still over two miles from here," the warrior said, nodding repeatedly.

He then gathered the wood he had chopped, tied it into four bundles, and used two long poles to balance them into two loads across his shoulders. "The mountain path is rugged; walk carefully," he cautioned, leading the way. Murong Yan followed closely, leading her warhorse.

They had not traveled far before the path indeed became rugged, yet the scenery grew increasingly beautiful. On both sides grew green bamboo as thick as a bowl, emerald-bright and soaring into the clouds. A mountain breeze blew, causing the bamboo to sway, creating a refreshing and pleasant atmosphere. Watching the warrior move with such ease, his feet light as air despite the heavy load, Murong Yan quickened her pace to keep up. Bathed in the breeze, smelling the fragrance of bamboo and earth, and listening to the songs of unknown birds, the sorrow and grief that had weighed on her for days began to dissipate. Her steps became lighter.

Soon, they arrived before a small manor. It was an ancient structure with red walls and high courtyards, its history unknown. Two large locust trees stood on either side of the gate.

"General, we have arrived!" the warrior called out. "Wait here for a moment while I go knock on the door." Murong Yan nodded and stood to the side.

The warrior set down the wood, dusted off his clothes, and knocked: "Master, your disciple has returned. A General is with me, seeking food and tea."

Before long, with a loud creak, the door swung open, and an elderly man emerged. He stood nine feet tall, wore a scholar’s cap, a black robe with wide sleeves, cloud-patterned socks, and Taoist shoes. He looked refined and detached from the mundane world. His hair and beard were white as snow, shimmering like silver in the sunlight. His face was round as a full moon, rosy and vibrant. His eyebrows resembled silkworms, his eyes were like copper bells, and his bristly beard looked like needles. Despite his age, he stood as straight and sturdy as a young man.

His voice was resonant as he asked, "Oh! Which General is this?"

Murong Yan stepped forward, cupping her hands: "It is I, Murong Yan, Marshal of the Black Earth City Volunteer Army."

At the mention of her name, the old man paused, then looked her up and down. He flicked his horsetail whisk with a *snap*, draped it over his arm, and performed a respectful bow. "To hear of a name is one thing, but to meet is another. Marshal Murong, I have long admired you. A true Buddha has arrived, and I failed to welcome you from afar. Please, forgive me!"

He opened the gate wide and bowed low to usher her in. Murong Yan hurriedly returned the courtesy: "Old Immortal, you are too modest!"

The warrior’s expression shifted, and he joyfully bowed, saying, "Marshal Murong, please, come in!"

Murong Yan nodded and thanked them. The warrior followed closely, unable to wait to strike up a conversation: "Marshal, my brother is also in your army. I haven't heard from him in a long time; is he well?"

Murong Yan replied as they walked, "Oh? Who is your brother? Let me see if I know him."

The warrior smiled proudly, "My brother is named Xue Yingyong. I heard he has reached the rank of an officer. I plan to join your volunteer army in a few days to serve under him. How is that, Marshal?"

"Oh, this..." At the mention of Xue Yingyong, Murong Yan stammered, unable to speak. She wanted to tell the truth, but feared hurting him. Yet, she knew she couldn't keep it a secret forever. Recalling the tragic scene of Xue Yingyong’s death on the battlefield, she felt a pang of sorrow, though she tried not to show it. "He is... doing well," she managed to say.

The warrior wanted to ask more, but the old man interrupted: "Xian’er, the Marshal is tired. Take her horse and feed it well so it may be ready for her use."

The warrior agreed eagerly. When Murong Yan mentioned the horse was injured and needed care, the warrior patted his chest. "Rest assured, Marshal! We have excellent medicine, and I know a thing or two about treating wounds. I will have the horse restored to strength in no time!"

The old man comforted Murong Yan: "Marshal, please sit. The boy has studied under me for over a decade; his skills are reliable." He then called for tea and ordered the cook to prepare some dishes.

Once Murong Yan had eaten and rested, the old man asked, "Marshal, it is said you led your army against the Myriad Demon Kingdom. Why have you returned? And how did you come to meet my disciple here?"

Murong Yan, feeling ashamed yet obliged to answer after being treated so kindly, recounted the events. As she spoke, the old man’s brows knitted together. He slammed the table with a *bang* and shouted, "Feng Rusong, you bully your own kind—you are no man! Du Anxun, colluding with foreign enemies to harm your own people—you are a traitor! You wicked scoundrels will surely meet your retribution!"

Murong Yan sighed, "Old Immortal, I know not where Du Anxun learned his arts, but with a few small copper swords, he can manifest thousands that fly through the air. It is terrifying!"

The old man pondered for a moment and asked, "Marshal, what does this Du Anxun look like?"

"He has a fair face, looks scholarly and weak, and has no special features," she replied. "Oh, but even in this cool weather, he carries a feather fan. I wonder if that is strange?"

"I see," the old man’s expression grew grave. He paced back and forth before stopping abruptly. "Marshal, this man’s origins are not ordinary! Given his weak constitution, he cannot be relying on mental energy, but on demonic arts. In the Myriad Demon Kingdom, there is an art called the 'Thousand-Mile Tracking Control.' One can imbue an object with demonic power and teach others the incantation. Once mastered, one can control the object to fly and kill from a distance."

Murong Yan was stunned. "Old Immortal, you mean Du Anxun is in league with the Myriad Demon Kingdom?"

"Indeed," the old man nodded. "But to obtain such power, one must sell something to them."

"What?" she asked.

"One's soul," the old man replied. "Only by selling their soul can the Myriad Demon Kingdom keep a firm grip on them. They grant the power so the person will do their bidding."

Murong Yan realized, "Then Du Anxun is merely a puppet, and the true mastermind is the Myriad Demon Kingdom?"

"Exactly," the old man confirmed.

Murong Yan was deeply impressed. Recalling the warrior's immense strength, she was certain this old man was no ordinary person. "Old Immortal, please forgive my rudeness; I have not yet asked your name."

The old man stroked his beard and smiled, "My name is of little consequence. You may call me the Silver-Bearded Guest."

Murong Yan was shocked. She had heard of the Silver-Bearded Guest since childhood. He was a legendary figure, a wandering immortal known for punishing evil and upholding justice. "Old Immortal, you must help me eliminate Du Anxun!"

The old man laughed, "That is only natural!"

Murong Yan knelt to thank him, but the Silver-Bearded Guest hurriedly helped her up. "Rise! I do this for the country and its people; there is no need for such formalities."

He then called, "Xian’er!"

The warrior ran in. The old man introduced him: "This is my disciple, Xue Yingxian, known as the 'Blue-Faced Tiger.' He is skilled with a pair of tiger-headed hooks." He then told the disciple, "You have always wanted to join the volunteer army. Today, I grant your wish. Marshal Murong is here—kneel before her."

Xue Yingxian knelt, overjoyed. Murong Yan tried to stop him, but he insisted. Seeing his heroic stature, Murong Yan felt pleased.

"Xian’er, I have nothing to give you, but take this Universe Pouch. It is specially designed to capture evil objects imbued with demonic energy. Use it to subdue Du Anxun and perform a great service for the Marshal!" He handed him a small pouch embroidered with the characters for Fortune, Prosperity, Longevity, and Joy.

Xue Yingxian kowtowed three times before receiving the treasure.

"Be warned," the old man cautioned, "this treasure is ruthless. It is only for objects, not for demons or those corrupted by them. It will lose its efficacy if stained with blood. Do you remember the control method?"

"I do, Master!"

The old man then gave him many earnest instructions, worrying like a father about his son's temperament. Finally, he smiled and said, "Go then."

Just as the three were about to step outside, a clamor arose—shouts of men and the neighing of horses. A large force had arrived. A servant rushed in, panicked: "Marshal, a troop of soldiers has arrived, demanding to capture you! What should we do?"

Then came the sound of the gates being battered. *Bang! Bang! Bang!*

Xue Yingxian’s anger flared. "They seek death by coming here! I shall go out and capture Du Anxun myself!" He turned to rush out, ready to fight.