Bitterness filled Big-head’s heart; however, in order to preserve his life, he put on a delighted expression and then obediently retrieved a small jar from his bag of holding.
It was about the size of a fist, and a handful of holes could be seen on its surface. When wind blew through the holes, they would emit a mournful whistling. There didn’t seem to be anything special about the sound, and looking at the jar, Meng Hao couldn’t see anything very unique about it. Even his Spiritual Sense didn’t reveal anything special.
In fact, had he slain this Patriarch Big-head, upon searching his bag of holding, even if Meng Hao happened to pick up the jar, he would most likely have taken it to be some sort of musical instrument and then paid it no more heed.
Apparently fearing some sort of misunderstanding, Patriarch Big-head quickly bit his left index finger, then dropped some blood into nine of the holes which covered the jug, doing so in some specific order.
It appeared as if it were some type of locking mechanism that Meng Hao had never seen before. Now that it had been opened by Big-head, the jar began to emit a black glow. There was clearly no wind in the area, and yet the jar continued to make the whimpering noises.
Suddenly, streams of magical symbols began to float up from the small jar. They circled around the area, along with a sinister aura.
Meng Hao took a deep breath. He lifted a finger on his right hand, causing the black jar to fly over to him. It landed on his palm, whereupon he examined it closely.
Gradually, Meng Hao began to get excited. The magical symbols were forming together to make the images of howling souls. Looking at it, he got the profound sense that this was indeed some sort of legacy.
“This is a treasure I stumbled upon in some ruins many years ago,” said Patriarch Big-head, choosing his words carefully, and not daring to leave anything out. “I discovered it on the body of a Demonic Cultivator that had two horns on its head. It also had a jade slip, which I read and then destroyed. Recorded within was the method for using this Evil Wind jar. It also said that the Demonic Cultivator came from some place called the Fourth Mountain, and that before dying, needed to pass on the legacy.”
If Patriarch Big-head hadn’t mentioned the Fourth Mountain, then Meng Hao might have continued to be suspicious. But after hearing the term, an imperceptible flicker ran through his eyes.
Matters regarding the Nine Mountains and Seas were not things that average Cultivators knew about. In Meng Hao’s estimation, people who were aware of such topics were definitely extremely scarce.
Without batting an eyelid, he gathered up the small jar and then looked at Patriarch Big-head.
The man immediately began to grow more nervous, and quickly said, “Fellow Daoist, when I’m around, the Treasure Pavilions of the three great Sects should be safe. But since the other two Sects know that their respective Patriarchs are dead, it won’t be long before their disciples start dividing up the treasures. Sir, don’t you think we should get there as quickly as possible?”
At the moment, hundreds of beams of light were approaching from off in the distance. The impressive sight of so many people made Big-head even more nervous.