Chapter Ten: The Mark of the Ram’s Horn

The green wooden staff in Nan Luo’s hand was a segment broken from an exceptionally tough tree in the mountains. It was heavy to the touch; if not for its wooden appearance, one might have mistaken it for an iron rod. Nan Luo had no time to drag the Ram Immortal to the edge of the cliff and find a better position to defend. Countless wolves were already upon them.

Sharp claws, cold eyes, ashen-grey fur—other than the initial command-like howl, the pack was eerily silent, pressing a suffocating stillness onto Nan Luo’s heart. The green staff spun in his hands, almost a blur, sweeping away the wolves that surged like waves. Though the Ram Immortal’s body was no different from an ordinary mountain goat, he now lay on the ground, trembling all over, deaf to Nan Luo’s shouted rebukes as he fought off the wolves. The sly glint that usually flickered in his fearful eyes was gone, replaced by nothing but panic and helplessness.

Nan Luo stood astride the Ram Immortal. It was a stance he had practiced since childhood, and now, wielded with such resolve, he seemed the lone guardian against a thousand foes. The wolves attacked from all sides, but though Nan Luo did not move from his stance, it was as if he had eyes all around him—no matter where a wolf lunged from, it was beaten back by his staff, either swept aside or jabbed away. Each struck wolf was not killed outright, but left unable to rise for a while.

It was not that Nan Luo didn’t wish to kill them, but he could not—these wolves, though seemingly ordinary, were uncommonly robust. Both exits were packed with wolves. Nan Luo knew, if things continued thus, he would die here, for his spiritual energy was draining away rapidly.

He glanced down at the ram who had traveled with him for over a month now, only to see terror and desperate pleading in its eyes.

“Get up! With your earth-burrowing art, any danger could be left behind!” Nan Luo’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice hoarse with shouting. His words seemed to have some effect; the panic in the Ram Immortal’s eyes lessened, and he struggled to rise, but his legs still shook uncontrollably.

“You’ve escaped from so many powerful monsters before—these wolves are nothing! Every foe we’ve faced before was ten or a hundred times more fearsome than these!” Nan Luo shouted, swinging his staff to knock down the wolves. He hoped to snap the ram out of his fear.

Crack—

Nan Luo’s heart froze—the green staff in his hand, unable to withstand the strain, snapped in two.

A chorus of howls rose—the wolf king, sensing Nan Luo’s weapon had broken, gave the order for a renewed, ferocious charge.

Like a tidal wave, the wolves surged in, death in their wake, instantly engulfing Nan Luo and the Ram Immortal beneath him.

At that moment, a swirl of earthen-yellow mist shimmered through the air. Nan Luo and the Ram Immortal vanished from the flood of wolves, leaving behind a pack of blood-eyed, howling grey beasts.

A little over a mile away, on a small hillside, Nan Luo sat astride the Ram Immortal. Both man and ram gazed back at the mountain pass where they’d nearly lost their lives. The warm sun slowly drove away the chill that clung to them—a chill born not of cold, but of the terror of facing death.

In that instant, Nan Luo truly believed he would die. It was a different death from wasting away in a cage—there had been hope, he was on the road home to his tribe, and now, to die would be a bitter regret. In the cage, there had only been despair.

Life and death hang on a thought. The priest-elder once said that what you think of in the face of death is what you most deeply desire, what you most truly wish to do.

Nan Luo looked eastward, toward the path he must travel, toward mountains unending.

“I wish I could return to my tribe soon… I wish…” he thought.

Reminiscence is an odd thing. After men and women have rolled together in bed, there is reminiscence; so too after battle—especially having skirted so close to death. Whether it’s lingering fear or absorbing experience, this little hill, barely a mile from the cliff pass, was clearly not a place to linger.

So Nan Luo and the Ram Immortal hurried on, fearing the wolves, sensitive to the scent of strangers for miles downwind, might once more pursue them. Most terrifying of all was the wolf king itself, who had never once revealed its face.

Nan Luo had no idea how long the Fasting Pill would stave off hunger. He’d been free of that cage for over a month, and sometimes went days without fruit or food, yet never felt hunger.

This pleased Nan Luo. To eat when hungry, to not eat when not hungry, and to use all his time for cultivation—what could be better?

Now, though, he sat on a sunlit boulder, not cultivating. The Ram Immortal stood beside him, gazing back toward the wolf-filled canyon.

“Ram Immortal, Ram Immortal—what a grand name! How did you end up so terrified by a few wolves of lesser wit?” Nan Luo mused aloud, with no compunction about speaking bluntly.

But the Ram Immortal was not a common ram. He stood motionless, his yellow beard blowing in the wind; had he a human form, he would have cut quite the figure.

“Earth-burrowing art is truly remarkable. I only saw a flash of yellow mist, and suddenly we appeared on this hillside. If only I could do that—then, even if I couldn’t use it in the crucial moment, I could still save you…” Nan Luo did not outright ask to learn the art, but his meaning was clear enough for even a pig spirit to understand. Still, the Ram Immortal only blinked, refusing to reply, leaving Nan Luo at a loss for words.

“We’ve known each other so long…” Nan Luo tried again, his yearning for the earth-burrowing art burning ever fiercer.

The Ram Immortal was silent.

“I saved your life…” Nan Luo finally said outright.

“When we return to my tribe, I’ll choose for you two of the cleverest, most adorable children as attendants…”

The Ram Immortal remained unmoved, not uttering a word.

Nan Luo resolved again not to speak to the Ram Immortal, not to rescue him again in danger. The Ram Immortal was talkative, timid, petty, and loved to be praised—Nan Luo knew all this well, so his vow not to speak was quickly forgotten. But in Nan Luo’s heart, the Ram Immortal now gained another epithet: shameless.

No matter what Nan Luo tried, he could not learn the earth-burrowing art from him.

A thousand mountains shrouded in dusk, shadows mottled and lone.

Still, the Ram Immortal always led Nan Luo to places where the spiritual energy was relatively abundant—only relatively, for the true spiritual lands were always claimed by others. Here, there was sun, shelter from the wind, and a clear spring flowing by. When the morning sun spilled through the trees onto Nan Luo’s face, he slowly finished his cultivation. The nightly meditation was his daily practice. Though progress was slow, he could feel the spiritual energy in his core growing ever more refined with each cycle—that was his motivation.

Suddenly, a sense of danger surged in Nan Luo’s heart. The Ram Immortal beside him sensed it too, a yellow mist rising instantly from his body.

A black shadow plummeted from above, swift as lightning.

Nan Luo instinctively leapt back, barely seeing the shape before him—a gigantic eagle had seized the Ram Immortal in its claws.

The eagle was tiger-sized, its feathers jet-black and gleaming, a dark crown upon its head. It gazed at Nan Luo with the bearing of a king.

Nan Luo’s heart raced. Unconsciously, he touched the nineteen-tael mark on his forehead.

He knew—his pursuers had found him.

“Are you Eagle Nine?” Nan Luo steadied himself and asked quietly. Naturally, he hoped the answer would be no. If not, he might be killed, but the thought of being captured again was even more unbearable. The loss of freedom, the feeling of having one’s fate toyed with, was worse than death.

Yet the eagle’s cold gaze told Nan Luo he was indeed Eagle Nine. He had never seen another eagle, but somehow, he just knew. Monsters might be expressionless toward humans, but Eagle Nine’s eyes were different—not the cruel, indifferent chill of the python prince who’d once captured him, but something else.

“You’ve come to take me back, haven’t you?” Nan Luo asked cautiously. “Can you let him go?”

Oppressive silence. The warmth and vitality of the forest seemed to vanish with the eagle’s arrival. Only the Ram Immortal, pinned under the black talons, struggled on, bursts of yellow light flickering, yet unable to escape.

The giant eagle lowered its head, regarding the Ram Immortal as if in thought. After a moment, it loosened its grip.

In a flash of yellow mist, the Ram Immortal vanished without a trace.

Nan Luo knew, with his companion’s temperament, he was now miles away. He sighed softly. More than a month together, and at parting, not even a word of farewell. He felt an unaccountable melancholy.

From the eagle’s eyes, Nan Luo sensed a mocking amusement, as if to say: you saved him, yet he left without a backward glance, leaving you behind.

“Let’s go,” Nan Luo said, gazing at the distant peak he must cross that day—above it, drifting clouds and birds wheeling free.

Suddenly, a swirl of yellow mist appeared at Nan Luo’s side—the Ram Immortal had returned.

“Why have you come back?” Nan Luo asked quickly, shooting a wary glance at the eagle, fearing it might change its mind and kill the ram with a swipe.

The Ram Immortal said nothing, but the horns atop his head, entwined like coral, began to emit yellow mist—thin at first, then thick, gradually forming in the air above him a shape identical to his horns.

“What is this…?”

The mist-formed ram’s horn drifted toward Nan Luo, illusory and fragile, as if it might dissolve with a breath. The Ram Immortal trembled all over, as if in pain.

As Nan Luo wondered, the horn of yellow mist flowed to his forehead—a surge of ancient, primeval energy flooded his heart. In his mind, a mysterious, elusive understanding blossomed—vague yet clear in its meaning.

Beneath the nineteen-tael mark on his forehead, a new imprint appeared, shaped like an earthen ram’s horn.

Nan Luo was still immersed in this profound state when he felt a sudden grip on his shoulder—he was lifted into the air. Opening his eyes, he found himself high above; looking down, he saw, on the very spot he had stood, a yellow ram sitting upright, gazing skyward.