Chapter One: Nineteenth Hour

The mingling of yin and yang shaped heaven and earth, nurturing all living things. Many beings born from the evolution of the world, by chance, grasped the path of the Dao and awakened supernatural abilities. They could summon wind and rain, command thunder and lightning, even move mountains and fill seas with ease. These individuals occupied the spiritual veins and blessed lands scattered across the world, dedicating themselves to cultivation, hoping that one day they might transcend the bounds of heaven and earth.

Humankind was but one among the countless living creatures, dispersed throughout the land. For years, Nan Luo had never understood how humans came to exist in this world, nor why he himself was human. He lacked the sharp claws that could strip bark from trees, nor did he possess the swiftness that rivaled the wind. Even his most powerful teeth paled in comparison to the white wolves roaming the hills behind his tribe—there was an insurmountable gulf between them.

“If only I were a white wolf, fast as the wind, with claws and teeth sharp beyond compare…” Nan Luo often imagined himself roaming the mountains with the ferocity of that wolf.

“In the shadowy forest, a group of people walk through the gloom. A white wolf silently emerges from the darkness. When the group passes, it suddenly leaps and strikes down the last person. Before the victim can even fall, those gleaming white fangs already sink into their throat. No matter how they struggle, death inevitably claims them.”

Since accompanying his tribesmen on hunts, Nan Luo had lost count of how many times he’d witnessed such scenes. Even in his dreams, he could not forget the gaze of the white wolf as it bit into his people’s necks—cruel and greedy.

“It wants most to kill me!” Nan Luo had felt this strange certainty the very first time he saw the white wolf… so much so that he wished he himself were a wolf, so he wouldn’t have to fear it.

“If I could become a bird, that wouldn’t be bad either. I wouldn’t have to fear the wolf, and could fly far, far away to see what lay beyond. I could soar to mountaintops and see what the priest elders meant when they spoke of immortals.”

The priest elder had claimed to have seen people flying in the sky, and some who could live forever. He said these feats were the reward of cultivating Daoist arts. Nan Luo had asked why he himself couldn’t fly or live forever. The priest replied it was because he had been too lazy in his youth and hadn’t worked hard enough at cultivation. From then on, Nan Luo strove diligently, day and night. Whenever he found a spare moment, he would sit at his doorway and gaze upward, hoping to catch someone flying through the heavens like the priest had.

As he grew older, he found himself less convinced that anyone could truly fly. In his eyes, he saw only a decrepit old man, and death was no stranger. The yearning for flight and immortality settled deep in his heart.

Yet after years of relentless practice, he became the strongest and fastest in his tribe—though still far inferior to the white wolf in the hills.

“Perhaps those who fly in the sky aren’t truly human, at least not humans like us,” Nan Luo often mused, gazing at the heavens.

Today was another day of hunting. Nan Luo walked in the middle of a group of more than ten. Though he considered himself the fastest, the sharpest-eyed, and the strongest among them, his tribe had already chosen him as the successor to the priest. So naturally, he was protected at the center.

“My sister wants a white fox. I wonder if we’ll come across one today. If we do, no matter what, I must catch it for her, so she’ll stop crying that Shui Girl has one and she doesn’t…”

Walking through the mountains, Nan Luo pondered this, holding a ritual sword said to be passed down from the priest’s teacher. It was said to ward off ghosts and calamity. After a year of handling it, Nan Luo felt nothing mystical, but it was sharper than any other weapon.

Suddenly, Nan Luo sensed he was being watched.

White wolf?

His heart tightened; he scanned his surroundings warily. The dense forest swayed like waves under the wind, rustling loudly. Through the branches, only endless darkness could be seen—within which countless white wolves seemed to lurk, their eyes glowing green as they stared at him.

Nan Luo saw nothing, yet the feeling of being watched grew clearer, more intense…

Whoosh…! Swish…swish…

The trees shook violently; a fierce wind sprang from nowhere. Nan Luo could not keep his footing, feeling the world spin.

Suddenly, a pair of jet-black claws seized his shoulders, piercing instantly into flesh and locking onto his bones. The agony kept him from crying out as he was lifted into the air.

His shoulders burned with pain; terror gripped his heart. He struggled wildly, but his hands, trapped by the claws, couldn’t move upward, and his feet flailed uselessly in the air. In desperation, he bit down hard on the black claws gripping him, only to find them as hard as iron. His mouth filled with blood, but the claws showed not a single tooth mark.

He opened his mouth to scream, but the raging wind flooded in, choking off any sound… As he watched his tribesmen running below, his vision blurred—he wasn’t sure if it was tears or the wind.

Higher and higher, Nan Luo could no longer see their faces, but suddenly spotted a white wolf stalking them from behind.

Panic seized him. He shouted frantically, waving his arms despite the pain, pointing toward the wolf’s direction. His tribesmen responded with similar gestures, though he knew they could not hear him. Still, he used all his strength to cry out.

In the haze, his people merged with the mountains.

A wisp of white cloud brushed past Nan Luo’s ear. So this was what flying felt like? He could see so far; if only he could control his speed and direction. At that moment, even Nan Luo was surprised by his own thoughts… there was little fear, only longing.

He seemed to catch a glimpse of his people busy in the village, and the sight of his sister bouncing in the clearing.

Mountains and rivers flashed by. White clouds streaked across his vision, turning into dreamy shadows, ethereal as mist and painting.

Time passed—perhaps a long while, perhaps only an instant.

A sheer cliff, towering into the clouds, appeared before Nan Luo.

He drew closer, descending toward the summit.

Four or five meters above the ground, he was dropped. With a smack, he hit the top of the cliff, unprepared for the impact. Pain shot through his bones, and he struggled to breathe.

The summit was black and gray, smooth and flat. Not far away stood a massive palace, entirely black and gray, shrouded in a faint dark radiance—though on closer inspection, no light could be seen at all. Nan Luo finally caught his breath and looked around. He had never imagined such a building could exist—it was far superior to the wooden homes of his tribe.

Everything changed so quickly; he barely glanced at the summit before his attention turned to the creature that had brought him here. Turning his head, he saw a person in dark robes, standing coldly and watching him.

Nan Luo quickly averted his eyes, staring at the ground. His mind was filled with the icy, ruthless gaze of that person—it was just like being watched by the white wolf.

Fear overwhelmed him.

“So these are the people who can fly, as the priest said. They’re not like us, not truly human. How could a human have such claws?” Nan Luo surreptitiously glanced at the person’s feet, only to see feet like his own, clad in black boots embroidered with gold—no claws. Nan Luo was puzzled…

The dark-robed figure walked past Nan Luo, then turned to glance back.

Nan Luo guessed he was meant to follow, so he endured the pain and limped after him.

Only when he drew near did he see the peculiar palace doors bathed in a layer of green light. The man raised his hand—green light shimmered, and with a swift swipe, it vanished. The pitch-black doors swung open silently.

Nan Luo cautiously stepped inside, glancing back to see the doors close soundlessly, green light swirling.

“Third Prince, you’ve returned.”

An aged voice reached Nan Luo’s ears. He turned to see, at some unknown moment, a white-haired elder standing respectfully before the captor… He thought, “So this person is a Third Prince.”

“Are the humans all well?” the Third Prince asked coolly.

“Except for a few who tried to escape and were killed, the rest are quietly cultivating,” the elder replied, bowing his head.

“This one was found on the way back. He’s in good shape—take him as well.” With that, the Third Prince departed without a backward glance.

Hearing their conversation, Nan Luo wondered if the other humans mentioned were also snatched away like him. He wanted to say something, but dared not, and his heart pounded fiercely.

“From today on, you’ll be called Nineteen. Follow me.” After the young master left, the white-haired elder’s tone changed, his manner now that of a superior to a subordinate.

Nan Luo wanted to ask why he’d been brought here, but seeing the elder’s demeanor, he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

Still limping, he followed quickly, soon arriving at a vast plaza. What he saw shocked him beyond measure: a gigantic, pitch-black iron cage stood in the center, with several smaller cages nearby. Inside each cage were people just like him.

It was instinctive; from the earlier conversation, Nan Luo deduced that those in the cages were the same as himself, not like the Third Prince or the white-haired elder.

As the elder led Nan Luo closer, a figure who seemed to be a guard approached—wearing black robes like the Third Prince, but with a hood covering his head, face hidden.

Some in the cages glanced up, then looked away; most sat with eyes closed, as if meditating.

Rags covered their bodies, hair tangled, yet each sat in silent cultivation.

“This is the newcomer, Number Nineteen. Explain things clearly to him—don’t let him go to waste,” the elder instructed the hooded man.

“Yes!” The hooded man replied, his voice even colder and harder than the Third Prince’s.

The elder departed, just like the Third Prince, without another glance at Nan Luo. Their actions were oddly similar, but Nan Luo had no time to ponder—he saw the hooded man raise his head, revealing narrow eyes and thin, pointed lips. Nan Luo suddenly recalled a hawk perched on a rock he’d seen while hunting—the gaze was identical, fierce and predatory, lurking in those eyes.