Chapter Thirty-Three: The Gourd

The Grand Elder flicked his wrist, and Dao Sansheng caught a token. It was impossible to tell what material the token was made of; its surface was remarkably smooth. The token itself was pure black, with a large golden character for “soldier” emblazoned on one side. Flipping it over, Dao Sansheng saw a line of fine print: “Valid for one use in the Armory Hall.”

The sense that what he desired was within reach made Dao Sansheng flush with excitement—at last, he could visit the Armory Hall once more. With the token in hand, he did not trouble himself with further pleasantries toward the elder. He bowed in thanks and left immediately.

Upon exiting, Dao Sansheng made straight for the Armory Hall. The same group of people was still on duty. Dao Sansheng marched right up; Senior Brother Bai, who was guarding the entrance, assumed Dao Sansheng had finally thought things through and was here to exchange that ghostly fire for another spiritual weapon. This time, he resolved to fleece the boy thoroughly.

“Good afternoon, Senior Brother Bai!” Dao Sansheng called out from afar. He remembered clearly how this fellow had nearly trapped him last time, giving him a time limit of half an hour and starting the countdown before he’d even entered.

“I’m here to claim a spiritual weapon. Here’s my token,” Dao Sansheng said, handing over the token he had just obtained.

Senior Brother Bai took the token, scrutinizing it carefully. It was indeed genuine, though he had no idea where the boy had gotten it. Still, he had no grounds to stop him.

Smiling broadly, Senior Brother Bai said, “Come in, Junior Brother. The token checks out. You may select one item. If you need any guidance, you can always seek me out—I’m a true professional, fair to everyone.”

“Is there a time limit this time, Senior Brother Bai? How long can I stay inside? Will you start counting down the moment I step in? I’m not even prepared yet,” Dao Sansheng drawled, sarcasm lacing his tone.

“This time, there’s no time limit. Take your time and choose carefully. Our Armory Hall has quite a range of items—most people get overwhelmed by the selection,” Senior Brother Bai replied.

Hearing this, Dao Sansheng darted over, pried open Senior Brother Bai’s eyelids to peer at his eyes, and said, “Let’s see if your eyes are failing. Back in my hometown, you’d need reading glasses for that. If you want, I'll sell you a pair at a good price.”

Seeing Dao Sansheng so smug, Senior Brother Bai felt an urge to hit him, but for now, duty prevailed, and he suppressed his irritation.

This time, the Armory Hall was much quieter than before. The last time, it had been so crowded that Dao Sansheng hadn’t even managed to squeeze into many corners. Now, he was determined to have a thorough look for any hidden treasures.

He wandered aimlessly among the shelves, inspecting this item and that, but found nothing out of the ordinary. Last time, the ghostly fire had been a tremendous stroke of luck, but now, even after a long search, nothing unexpected turned up. Was he really to settle for just a set of magic robes? He felt unwilling.

With nothing worthwhile on the shelves above, he decided to check below. The lower shelves were buried under layers of dust, with spiritual and magical implements piled haphazardly, making the search arduous.

One, two, three… Dao Sansheng had nearly checked every shelf without finding a single promising item. Just as he was about to give up, he noticed a peculiar gourd tucked under the shelf nearest the door.

He walked over and picked it up, wiping away some of the dust. A complete gourd was revealed, yellow in color, neither too big nor too small—just the right size to hang at the waist. It felt weightless in his hand, no different from an ordinary gourd.

He scanned it with his cultivation detection lens: “Gourd. Ordinary item. No grade. Ten thousand years old. Contains baleful energy.”

The brief description left Dao Sansheng puzzled. A gourd that had grown for ten thousand years, yet was still only a mundane object—and even had baleful energy inside? What was going on? This wretched lens always failed at the crucial moment.

He hesitated, raising the gourd, then setting it down again, reluctant to let it go. Finally, he decided to secretly probe it with his spiritual sense to see what lay within.

He sent a thread of spiritual sense into the gourd, only to have it bounced back immediately. Several attempts all ended in failure.

Dao Sansheng was the sort who, the more he was denied, the more determined he became. This time, he sent in his spiritual sense tinged with a trace of fire from his dantian.

This time, he broke through the barrier and entered the gourd’s interior. Inside was a vast space; at the bottom of the gourd, countless black threads intertwined and devoured one another. Suddenly, a surge of black baleful energy shot up, and Dao Sansheng gave a startled cry as his spiritual sense was wounded.

Hearing his cry, Senior Brother Bai and several other disciples rushed in. They found Dao Sansheng sprawled on the floor the moment they entered.

This fellow could really make a scene—he’d managed to injure himself just by choosing a magical implement. It was the biggest joke in Sky-Forging Valley this year.

Dao Sansheng’s spiritual sense had just been corroded by a plume of black mist; the portion he’d sent into the gourd was entirely devoured, leaving him with a minor injury. But even so, he was more excited than alarmed—his curiosity about the gourd’s baleful energy was only heightened.

As the others considered examining his body with their own spiritual senses, Dao Sansheng’s eyes snapped open. Seeing the group of senior brothers staring at him, he was unsure how to react. Senior Brother Bai broke the silence.

“Junior Brother, why did you just cry out and fall to the floor? If someone were to die of excitement while choosing a weapon in our Armory Hall, I doubt even the Sect Leader would believe it.”

“I was just testing your reactions. You’re all pretty quick—good, good,” Dao Sansheng replied with a cheeky grin.

He picked up the gourd he’d chosen and handed it over. “I’ll take this one. Please register it for me,” he said.

Senior Brother Bai eyed Dao Sansheng as if looking at a fool. This gourd had been selected before—its strange appearance attracted attention—but everyone who took it eventually returned it. It couldn’t be bound with spiritual sense, couldn’t store anything, and was useless as a magical weapon. Everyone in the valley knew this. Was this guy’s head addled from his earlier mishap?

“Think carefully, Junior Brother. Once you select this, there’s no turning back,” Senior Brother Bai warned, examining the gourd again. As always, it appeared perfectly ordinary.

“I’ve made up my mind. Just register it. I have other matters to attend to,” Dao Sansheng insisted, unwilling to argue further. His spiritual sense had taken a slight injury, and he needed to return and investigate.

Once the registration was complete, Senior Brother Bai stepped aside, and Dao Sansheng left, hugging the gourd, under the bemused gazes of the others. Watching his figure recede, the disciples on guard could no longer suppress their laughter and burst out in mirth.

Leaving the Armory Hall, Dao Sansheng hurried back. He needed to check on his spiritual sense and then study the gourd to uncover its secrets.

Lost in thought, he barely noticed his fellow disciples greeting him along the way, passing through the dormitories in a daze.

At last, he reached his room and sat cross-legged to cultivate. Spiritual sense injuries were not easily healed; it would take days of steady practice or require special medicinal herbs for a cure.

Three days passed in a blur before Dao Sansheng finally opened his eyes. He had spent all this time merely repairing his spiritual sense, and even now, it was only partially healed. He realized he needed to seek out a spiritual herb that could fully restore his soul.