Chapter 2: Finding Hope in Desperation

After much consideration, Chu Feng decided it was best to first take stock of his supplies. If escape was necessary, he would flee; if hiding was required, he would hide. Survival was paramount.

Given his current situation, it wasn’t just the threat of the pursuers from the Terror Gate—if a ferocious tiger were to appear, his life would be in grave danger.

With a rustling sound, Chu Feng emptied the contents of his black cloth pouch onto the ground.

The items tumbled out, scattering across the earth. All were silvery in hue—silver ingots. Among them were many dark, glossy metallic fragments resembling broken stones.

“Two, four, six… thirty-six, seventy-two! Seventy-two silver ingots in total! Ten, twenty, thirty—thirty pieces of Shadowsteel?”

There were seventy-two silver ingots and thirty pieces of Shadowsteel altogether. After counting, Chu Feng was stunned.

“This can’t be! I checked the pouch last night—there were only three silver ingots. How did three become seventy-two overnight? And the Shadowsteel, I clearly remember there were only four pieces—why are there now thirty?”

He recalled distinctly: three silver ingots in the pouch, never spent during his flight, and nowhere to spend them. He was certain about the Shadowsteel count.

Now, both had inexplicably multiplied. Was he so famished that his vision blurred?

Suppressing his excitement, Chu Feng squeezed each silver ingot and Shadowsteel piece, one by one. No mistake—they were all genuine, not an illusion.

“But how could this be?”

Chu Feng’s heart was filled with both delight and confusion. He circled the scattered ingots and Shadowsteel, pondering deeply.

His gaze fell upon the cloth pouch in his hand, and suddenly, a thought struck him. “Could it be that this pouch is extraordinary?”

This grimy cloth pouch was, in truth, nothing special—just an ordinary storage bag used by martial artists. Though only palm-sized, it housed a storage array within, offering unlimited space for countless items, a martial artist’s indispensable satchel.

A thousand years ago, such storage bags were rare, possessed only by those who had completed the Body Refining stage and truly embarked upon the path of the arcane. But as storage arrays became accessible and widespread, these compact bags proliferated over the centuries.

Of course, advanced storage bags with “Soul Lock” capabilities remained scarce. The basic storage bag Chu Feng used was commonplace among martial artists.

Chu Feng made a bold conjecture: this black, ancient pouch was a marvel of creation itself, possessing the miraculous ability to generate items!

For example, place one item inside, and after a while, it becomes two. One becomes two, two becomes three, three becomes myriad!

Chu Feng shook his head, wondering if he was letting his imagination run wild.

If this were true, wouldn’t a single bag grant dominion over the world?

The notion seemed wild, yet Chu Feng resolved to test it.

The experiment was simple: place every item he could into the storage bag, wait, and see if the pouch produced more, as he suspected.

Test items included silver ingots, Shadowsteel, healing pills for external wounds, and some ordinary pebbles.

Chu Feng was only at the first stage of Body Refining, and impoverished; these were the only items he could test.

After waiting for the time it took to drink two cups of tea, Chu Feng ceased his experiment, having concluded: the storage bag indeed possessed the ability to generate items, but it seemed limited to those of metallic nature.

Through this test, his silver ingots increased by over a dozen, and the precious Shadowsteel grew by three pieces.

In contrast, the walnut-sized healing pills and the various stones remained unchanged in number.

“It only generates items of metallic nature—that’s already quite remarkable. Silver ingots and Shadowsteel are both metal!”

Chu Feng began calculating. “Now is not the time to investigate the pouch’s mysteries. The Terror Gate’s men could arrive at any moment—I must leave here first! If I sell the Shadowsteel, exchange it for martial arts supplies, my strength should increase significantly!”

He was quick to adapt, always seizing opportunities amid crisis.

Previously, with nothing in hand, his only thought was to flee as far from the Terror Gate as possible. But now, with an abundance of silver ingots and the far more valuable Shadowsteel, Chu Feng would not panic and run blindly, but head straight toward the great river at the mountain’s base.

The Terror Gate controlled over a dozen strongholds, occupying dozens of peaks. The barren mountain beneath Chu Feng’s feet was at the very edge of Wolf Mountain. Beyond Wolf Mountain lay the Wolf River, and across the river was the territory of the Celestial Wood Clan.

He knew that once he reached the Celestial Wood Clan’s domain, the Terror Gate could no longer pursue him across mountains and valleys, granting him much greater safety.

Moreover, every ten days, a small market appeared on the far side of the Wolf River. Many martial artists gathered there to buy and sell goods. Chu Feng planned to visit the early market, hoping to sell the Shadowsteel, exchange it for money, and purchase what he needed.

The barren mountain was strewn with jagged rocks, sharp as spears and swords, flanked by cliffs. Chu Feng descended carefully, eyes alert in every direction.

“Someone’s there—the Terror Gate’s men!”

From afar, Chu Feng, perched high, spotted three lackeys ahead.

All three were bare-backed, steel forks in hand, sitting atop a massive boulder, drinking, eating meat, and loudly chatting.

To cross the Wolf River below, Chu Feng had to pass by where these three sat.

Chu Feng did not hesitate. He lightened his steps and cautiously crept forward, aiming to slip past unnoticed.

“Chu Feng, damn him!” one lackey cursed loudly. “If he’d handed his girl over to Young Master Xiong, would we need to sit guard in this godforsaken mountain? We’d be drinking wedding wine and pocketing wedding money by now!”

“That brat Chu Feng won’t escape! He set fire to the beast pens, killed several man-bears and Sky-flipping Eagles—that’s the kind of crime that gets you skinned alive! Young Master Xiong has ordered: Chu Feng must be captured alive or dead. If not in ten days, then in a month, if not in a month, then in a year!”

“Man-bears and Sky-flipping Eagles were startled and can’t chase Chu Feng, so he’s evaded capture for days. Still, Young Master Xiong won’t spare Kuding the Little Blade, Chu Feng’s close friend! If Chu Feng doesn’t turn up soon, the little blade will be the first to suffer, and we’ll see if Chu Feng shows himself!”

All three lackeys were at the first stage of Body Refining, drinking and chatting loudly, oblivious to Chu Feng hiding just behind a nearby boulder.

Chu Feng picked up a stone and hurled it into the distance with force.

A sharp clang echoed as the stone landed, making a loud noise.

“Who’s there? Someone?”

“There’s no one! Maybe a wild beast or brute?”

“Let’s go check—maybe it’s a beast! We’re short on meat for our drinks. If we catch it, we’ll feast!”

Chu Feng used this diversion, drawing the three lackeys away, then swiftly slipped down toward the Wolf River, using the boulder for cover.

He had barely run twenty or thirty steps when a shout erupted behind him.

“There really is someone! Huh? That’s Chu Feng! Chu Feng, stop right there!”

“It’s him! Brothers, after him! Young Master Xiong promised: catch him and you get a stronghold as a reward!”

“Chu Feng, you can’t escape! Stop right now!”

The three lackeys, recognizing Chu Feng fleeing ahead, charged after him like hungry wolves upon a plump sheep, steel forks raised high.