Soul of the Revered Banner

Chapter 7: Three Stances

Tu Shanjun left.

Leaving behind a solitary grave.

The pit had been dug deep with the spirit sword, deep enough that wild dogs couldn’t reach it.

After all, a person should return to the earth in peace.

Neither Zhao Shixian nor Hou Boxu could afford a storage pouch; they only had storage talismans.

Opening a storage talisman required only a hair-thin wisp of mana.

Zhao Shixian’s storage talisman held little of value:

A cultivation manual, the Blood Fiend Grand Method.

A somewhat damaged talisman, using the knowledge from the secret manual, he recognized it to be a Swift Movement Talisman, usable at most twice more.

Three neatly cut cyan stones, spirit stones, low-grade, the common currency of cultivators.

A half-torn piece of beast hide, inscribed with three stances: the Demon Ape Focus Fist.

The rest were mundane items: a change of clothes, dry rations, water, and some scattered silver.

There was also a rough map.

If such a thing were found in an ordinary household, it would be a crime punishable by death.

But for cultivators, mortal laws held little weight.

Tu Shanjun now used this map to plan his next steps.

As for Hou Boxu’s storage talisman, Tu Shanjun didn’t open it. Instead, he stored it within his ghostly form.

The Soul Banner wasn’t yet strong enough to have an internal storage space, so the only place to keep items was within the primary soul itself.

At least the primary soul didn’t need to eat, drink, or relieve itself.

The hairpin spirit sword didn’t need to be hidden, but it consumed too much mana.

With the pitiful remnants of his mana, he couldn’t wield it for long, so he tossed it into the storage talisman as well.

High summer, the scorching sun hung overhead.

Tu Shanjun trudged forward, feeling as though he was dragging a corpse on his back.

No sweat poured from him, only an inexplicable exhaustion.

Originally, he had planned to travel at night, but the mana stored in the banner slave’s body was slowly dissipating. He couldn’t afford to stop.

If he were stranded in the wilderness, who knew how long it would take for someone to find the Soul Banner?

A few days or weeks would be manageable, but what if it took half a year?

Tu Shanjun refused to wait idly. He had to reach a populated area.

He didn’t know how long he had walked, but by the time the banner slave’s mana reserves were completely drained, a welcome sight finally appeared before him, a road.

Not some narrow village path, but a broad, well-traveled highway, its surface packed with wooden stakes to prevent weeds.

Dusty in the dry season, muddy in the rain, but practical nonetheless.

Thud.

The corpse collapsed heavily into the roadside grass.

Tu Shanjun scattered the silver nearby and arranged Zhao Shixian’s body to appear as though he had died clutching the Soul Banner.

By now, only a thread-thin wisp of mana remained.

With no other choice, he retreated into the banner, waiting for fate to intervene.

On the highway, few commoners dared to travel under the midday sun.

Tu Shanjun waited for what felt like an eternity, yet no one passed by.

If not for the fresh animal droppings on the road, he might have thought the highway was abandoned.

Boom.

The ground trembled, the sound of a large group approaching.

Soon, a contingent of black-armored cavalry escorting a carriage came into view.

A black banner emblazoned with the character "Zhang" fluttered in the wind.

The overwhelming killing intent radiating from them immediately sharpened Tu Shanjun’s focus.

He could smell the thick scent of blood, this unit of fewer than a hundred cavalrymen had likely just returned from battle.

If he could join them, he wouldn’t lack for souls or killing energy to strengthen the banner.

But reality was cruel.

The black-armored cavalry and their carriage swept past without stopping, their expressions tense and urgent.

No one even glanced at the corpse in the grass.

Even if they had noticed, it wouldn’t have mattered, they had more pressing concerns.

Tu Shanjun considered using his last shred of mana to manifest, but by the time he made up his mind, the cavalry was already hundreds of meters away.

"A shame," he muttered.

Since the opportunity had slipped away, he turned his attention back to the present.

"Was the silver too well hidden?"

"Or does Zhao Shixian’s corpse not look like a reclusive master?"

The silver was indeed inconspicuous in the grass.

And Zhao Shixian’s body, drained of blood and covered in dirt from digging the grave, now resembled a beggar more than anything else.

Gritting his teeth, Tu Shanjun used his last wisp of mana to toss the silver onto a more visible part of the road.

Surely the next passerby would spot the silver and then the corpse.

Time flowed differently within the banner.

While waiting, Tu Shanjun began practicing the Demon Ape Focus Fist.

The interior of the Soul Banner wasn’t spacious, just enough to cram in a hundred or so vacant ghosts, their eyes dull and lifeless.

Tu Shanjun, the primary soul, occupied the center, meditating on the technique seeds extracted from Zhao Shixian.

Three stances of the Demon Ape Focus Fist:

First Stance: Old Ape Hangs the Seal.

The posture resembled a hunched, aged ape. This stance was foundational, a starting point for building strength.

After dozens of attempts, Tu Shanjun finally replicated the exact form depicted on the beast hide.

Once in position, he felt as though countless fleas were crawling over his body, an unbearable itch.

But he couldn’t scratch, breaking the stance would nullify the practice.

He held the position for the time it took an incense stick to burn.

Second Stance: Demon Ape Bows to the Moon.

Here, the ape shed its aged demeanor, transforming into a ferocious beast.

The beast hide meticulously illustrated the muscle movements, blood flow, and even skeletal alignments for this killing technique.

Unfortunately, as a spectral primary soul, this physical technique was useless to Tu Shanjun.

The true purpose of this stance was to unleash the pent-up agitation cultivated in the first stance.

Many hesitated to strike in battle.

To master a killing move, one had to nurture a sliver of malice in the heart, this malice emboldened action.

"Finally, someone’s coming."

Tu Shanjun opened his eyes, a smile forming.

"Young master, look what I found!"

"Silver! Someone must have dropped it." A young servant in a square cap excitedly scooped up the silver and presented it to his master.

A scholarly-looking man in a blue robe, shielding himself from the sun with an umbrella, chuckled. "How careless of someone to lose this."

But his smile froze as his gaze landed on the grass beside the road.

"There’s... a person."

The servant yelped and jumped back, only now noticing the corpse half-buried in the undergrowth.

"Hey! Who are you?"

"Say something!"

When no response came, the servant cautiously crouched and checked for breath.

"Young master... he’s dead."

The scholar sheathed the sword at his waist and stepped forward to examine Zhao Shixian’s body.

"He doesn’t look like a beggar."

"Hmm?"

His eyes fell on the Soul Banner clutched in Zhao Shixian’s hand.

Prying the fingers open, the scholar picked up the banner, rolled up like a command flag.

He studied it closely. "Not an ordinary item... the material resembles Cold Jade."

"But why can’t I unfurl the fabric?"

Tu Shanjun sighed inwardly.

Most people would recoil at the sight of the ghostly faces woven into the banner’s surface.

So he had used his mana to tightly bind the fabric.

Only mana could reopen it.

This scholar had no mana, he wasn’t a cultivator.

Still, Tu Shanjun had a backup plan. The Blood Fiend Grand Method could help those with spiritual roots cultivate. If this man had even the slightest potential...

While the scholar examined the banner, the servant thoroughly ransacked Zhao Shixian’s corpse, stripping it down to the undergarments in search of hidden valuables.

"Young master, there’s also this book."

Disappointingly, aside from the few pieces of silver, the only other find was a single manual.

(Chapter End)