Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Storage Pouch

Don’t be fooled by how lightly Zhou Qiankun spoke of it; Zhou Changwang knew all too well the true peril that lay within. The slightest misstep, and his father would have perished in the wolves’ lair. Even if he were lucky enough to escape, he would surely leave his scent behind in that den. At that point, whether the twin-headed Frostfire Wolf would hunt him or someone else first remained uncertain.

“That’s precisely why we encountered the Frostfire Wolf on the way. Because I left both my own and Zhang Fenghua’s scent in its cave, it abandoned Zhao Heng and the others, coming after us directly.”

At this, Zhou Qiankun paused before continuing, “But I must admit, that Zhang Fenghua was truly formidable, with countless hidden tricks up his sleeve. He even mastered the art of arrays formed by talismanic symbols, and actually managed to grievously wound the Frostfire Wolf. Yet, the beast was still a mighty force among mid-tier monsters, and ultimately unleashed a combined ice-and-fire attack that shattered the array. In a few swift moves, it broke free and escaped.

“In that moment, as the beast fled, I seized the opportunity and ambushed Zhang Fenghua, who was already at the end of his strength. I succeeded, but his dying counterattack left me gravely wounded, barely clinging to life. Fearing Zhao Heng and the others might return and discover what had happened, I forced myself to hide away. While tending my wounds, I took great pains to avoid other monsters as well… It was only last night that I made it back near the market-town of Phoenix Roost. I hid in an earthen burrow for the night, and only at dawn did I enter the outskirts of the market and return here…”

Listening to his father’s account, Zhou Changwang’s emotions were a tangled knot. He had never imagined his father had borne so many burdens—avenging his mother, raising and protecting him, paving the way for his future, learning the arts of spiritual planting, spending precious spirit stones to rent three acres of spirit farmland, all to help him become a spiritual farmer and secure a stable livelihood within the world of cultivation.

Even after discovering the whereabouts of his enemy, his father had never thought to share the truth with him, but instead bore it all alone, quietly drawing closer to his foe, determined to take vengeance with his own hands. Perhaps it was only now, with his vendetta fulfilled, that he felt able to let go of the obsession that had consumed him for years, and bare his heart to his son.

But had he failed this time, or died out in the wilds, he would likely have taken this secret to his grave, never letting his son bear a shred of the burden.

At this moment, Zhou Changwang was silent. In the past, he had never truly understood love. In this life and the last, he had only ever experienced the kindness of his parents, never considering how to repay it. Only now did realization dawn. Love, perhaps, is not grand, but it is unfathomably deep.

…

“Oh, by the way. Here’s something I found on Zhang Fenghua. It’s something you cultivators use, and only you can unlock it. I have no use for it, so it’s yours. There was another magic tool, but it was destroyed in the fight with the Frostfire Wolf.”

With that, Zhou Qiankun casually tossed a black cloth pouch in front of Zhou Changwang.

“What’s this?”

Zhou Changwang stared, then sprang to his feet, voice ringing with excitement. “A storage pouch? Is this really a storage pouch?”

“That’s right. A storage pouch. There should still be some things inside, all for cultivators. I can’t open it or use what’s within, so it’s all yours,” Zhou Qiankun said with a smile.

“This…” Zhou Changwang accepted the storage pouch in silence, unable to refuse. This was no ordinary item—storage pouches were treasures coveted by countless low-tier cultivators, each worth at least a thousand low-grade spirit stones at the very least. He had never imagined he would acquire one so easily.

He ran his fingers lovingly over the pouch. The surface was smooth as silk, as if sewn from the finest fabric, yet clearly crafted from a far superior material. It felt feather-light in his grip, betraying no hint of the items it might conceal.

With a thought, he tried to probe the pouch with his mind, only to feel a special force rebuff him. He knew this was the pouch’s unique rune-based defense. Only by fully erasing the previous owner’s imprint could he freely control and use it. Judging by the lingering strength of the imprint, he estimated it would take him an hour or two to wear it away. For now, he carefully stowed it away, keeping it close to his person.

“Remember, Changwang,” Zhou Qiankun cautioned, “never flaunt your wealth. You must never, ever reveal this storage pouch to anyone. Otherwise, you may well invite disaster.”

“I understand,” Zhou Changwang replied. No one knew better than he the necessity of keeping a low profile. If word got out that he possessed a storage pouch, people would go mad, regarding him as the prime target for robbery and murder. As a cultivator at the third level of the Qi Refining stage, he could not withstand the covetous gazes of those who preyed on others.

…

“Now, tell me about you. What’s the story with this spirit hound?”

At last, Zhou Qiankun could not restrain his curiosity and questioned Zhou Changwang. If memory served, when he had left before, he hadn’t left behind any spirit stones. Yet, look at Zhou Changwang now—not only had he raised a spirit hound, but as he lifted his own bowl and gazed at the plump, fragrant grains within, his stomach rumbled. Spiritual rice porridge—since when had their household become affluent enough to eat such luxuries?

More astonishingly, he noticed that even the hound’s bowl contained half a ladleful. If not for concern for his dignity, he would have been tempted to reclaim the porridge right then and there.

Woof! Woof!

The little spirit hound, oblivious to the dark designs of this stranger who seemed intent on stealing its food, wagged its tail enthusiastically. Sensing from its master’s attitude that this was a friend, it greeted him cheerfully. Only when it saw no further signs of hostility did it lower its head and begin to lap at the spiritual rice porridge.

“Not long ago, there was a pest outbreak in the spirit fields. I’ve gotten pretty good at using the Geng Metal Finger technique, so I helped Old Xu and Xu Jie next door get rid of the pests, and earned a few spirit stones for my trouble,” Zhou Changwang explained with a smile.

“But that’s quite a lot,” Zhou Qiankun replied in disbelief. “I just checked the rice jar—there must be nearly fifty pounds of spiritual rice in there, and it’s crescent rice, no less…”

“And there’s something else,” Zhou Changwang continued softly. “A few days ago, I ran into a bandit cultivator.”

“What?” Zhou Qiankun slammed the table, leaping to his feet. A thunderous crack rang out, and a handprint half an inch deep appeared on the wooden surface. Yet, as his outburst subsided, his face paled instantly, blood surging to his lips until he coughed up a trace of crimson. Even now, his injuries had not fully healed, and this sudden agitation brought the pain roaring back.