Chapter Sixteen: A Strange Feeling

"Where is the passage?" Su Yuanbai asked.

Duan Lingqi, who usually ignored the questions of the woman behind him, immediately walked over to a multicolored, dragon-patterned vase with a phoenix tail, placed against the inner wall of the cell. From somewhere on his person, he produced a delicate pouch embroidered with clouds and deer.

As soon as he untied the thin red string at the mouth of the pouch, an uncanny breeze swept forth, and the exquisite vase was sucked into the small pouch as if by magic.

"...How did a wretched flood-dragon like you come by such a high-grade spatial artifact?" Xi Chunxue exclaimed in shock, her left hand clutching Qu Hanchen by the collar, her slender right fingers pinching a luminous night pearl. By its light, she had witnessed the scene clearly.

Spatial artifacts were the rarest and hardest to obtain. This flood-dragon was no scion of nobility—just a wild spirit-beast from the forests—so how could he possibly have such a treasure?

"Artifact? What His Excellency gave me is no mere artifact but an innate spiritual vessel. Not only can it hold lifeless objects, but living beings as well. It's called the Cloud-Deer Universe Pouch. Though it can't compare to the Elder Sovereign's Purple-Gold Red Gourd or that Bodhisattva's Jade Purity Vase, it's on par with most spatial vessels of the Twelve States!" Duan Lingqi, for once deigning to respond to Xi Chunxue, shook the pouch with no small amount of pride.

"Heh, how ignorant. Even if the world now only worships the Supreme Divine Emperor, one should not forget the myriad gods and buddhas of old. They have withdrawn, not vanished, simply unwilling to sully themselves with mortal dust. Today, ascending to the heavens is no great feat, nor is descending to the underworld. The Elder Sovereign you speak of is the Grand Pure Lord of Morals; his Purple-Gold Red Gourd was formed at the dawn of chaos, from the immortal vine on the ancestral Kunlun Mountain. And the Bodhisattva you so disrespect is Avalokitesvara, whose Jade Purity Vase can hold all the waters of the world and bring dead wood to life. Never mind the origins of these two venerable ones—their treasures alone are peerless celestial artifacts. And you dare compare your pouch to such things? As for holding living beings—I'd wager yours can hold no more than a few newborn mice." Xi Chunxue sneered. Even if the pouch in Duan Lingqi's possession was an innate spiritual vessel, his comparisons were frankly absurd.

Duan Lingqi was ready to flare up, but hearing her speak the true names of the Elder Sovereign and the Bodhisattva, he muttered to himself and forcibly held his temper. His knowledge of those artifacts came only from ancient, tattered texts in some ruined cave in the Eastern Wastes, knowing the items but not their owners. For this woman to state their names with such certainty filled the forest-born spirit with unease.

Yet, their quarrel did nothing to disturb Su Yuanbai, who calmly approached the passage Duan Lingqi had revealed, his eyes fixed serenely on the black floor tile at its threshold.

Ever since awakening, Su Yuanbai had not tried to control or direct his actions, instead following his instincts wherever they led. From this, he had deduced his own nature—a man of deep curiosity, fond of helping others, not cruel, and facing adversity with anticipation rather than fear.

But how would such a person end up as a prisoner in this jail?

Kneeling, he lifted a floor tile that differed from the others. Beneath was a dark passage, wide enough for two people to walk side by side. He gazed silently into its depths, pondering.

"This dungeon has no ventilation." Su Yuanbai spoke up suddenly.

"That's right... Not just the dungeon—all the prison cells lack any ventilation," Qu Hanchen replied awkwardly, still unable to break free from Xi Chunxue's grip. He hadn't expected this attractive woman to be so strong; he hadn't noticed it at all when escorting her down earlier.

"Then where does that chill wind come from?" Su Yuanbai frowned. He had made a few tests and observations, such as when Duan Lingqi had attacked that man earlier, and again when the man fled. He was sure his senses did not deceive him.

"Wind?" Duan Lingqi echoed, frowning as well. He hadn't felt any chill wind.

"Oh, that's it! When I entered your cell earlier, I did feel something odd. So your cell has wind!" Qu Hanchen's eyes lit up. He'd sensed something was off when bringing the corpse-stretcher, but now that the prisoner mentioned it, he understood.

Yes—the wind. How could there be such a chill wind in a sealed dungeon?

Hmm?

Qu Hanchen blinked, feeling as if something flashed before his eyes.

Meanwhile, Xi Chunxue, still gripping his collar, raised her bright eyes in alarm, looking at Duan Lingqi, who was now the only one left in the cell.

"He didn't use any Qi?" she asked, stunned.

"You guess," Duan Lingqi replied with a cold smirk. He bound his pouch with the red string, tucked it into the yellow scales that suddenly appeared on his wrist, and then strode out unhurriedly.

Just now, Su Yuanbai had moved as if employing the Daoist art of Shrinking the Earth—a technique for spatial transference. Yet Xi Chunxue had sensed no fluctuation of Qi.

Could it be the effect of the Spirit-Binding Chains?

She looked down at the iron chain clanking on her wrist; when the flood-dragon had used his magic, she had clearly felt his demonic power flow. But what astonished her most was the residual afterimage left where Su Yuanbai had stood. Even though it lingered only a moment, it was there. But true spatial transference left no such trace.

She could not puzzle it out. Best not to think further.

Her slender hand tightened, catching Qu Hanchen just as he tried to slip away, and dragged him toward another cell.

Su Yuanbai, unaware of how much confusion his actions had caused Xi Chunxue, simply knew that the jailor’s words had answered a question in his heart—one he was eager to test.

So, for once, he hurried.

He returned to his shabby cell and first checked the passage beneath the straw mat—the one Duan Lingqi had dug. He’d crawled through it himself, and the chill wind had not come from there.

That left only one thing.

The brown earthen jar.

Without hesitation, Su Yuanbai opened it. A reeking stench of urine immediately assaulted him, enough to make anyone want to slam the lid back on.