```
Nothing unusual happened in the hall; the whole process went very smoothly.
Zhao Sheng saw this situation and a trace of joy flashed across his face.
His gaze circled several times between the spirit fish in the bamboo basket and that painting of Cold River Old Man fishing.
After hesitating for a moment, Zhao Sheng gave up any riskier actions.
The wooden puppet, following his heart's intent, took the black storage bag from the waist of the charred corpse and walked out of the hall.
Zhao Sheng took the golden imperial tablet and the storage bag, put away the wooden puppet, and then turned to leave the place.
Half a day later, in the cultivation room, Zhao Sheng sat cross-legged on a cushion. Then, a golden imperial tablet about a foot long appeared in his hands.
Looking at this object, Zhao Sheng felt intrigued; the tablet seemed neither gold nor a magical artifact, with a surface as smooth as a mirror and inscribed with neither cultivation techniques nor secret skills.
