Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Gateway to the Immortal Path of the Primordial Spirit

Daoist Yuanji had returned.

Clad in his apricot-yellow robe, carrying a horsetail whisk, with a single strand of black beard, he still bore the air of an immortal, ethereal and dignified. The very first thing he did upon his return was to demand the reopening of his temple and instructed the chieftain of the Wild Plains tribe to arrange a grand ceremony for him. The chieftain wondered if Yuanji had learned that the monster in the mountain had already been slain by Nanluo, emboldening him to return in such a high-profile manner. Yuanji himself was a shrewd man and immediately noticed the chieftain’s suspicion. With a confident smile, he declared that he had borrowed a magical treasure from his senior brother; should the mountain demon king dare to return, it would never escape again.

Only then did the chieftain realize that Yuanji was still unaware that Nanluo had already destroyed the demon king. Not being one to gossip, he did not divulge the news that Nanluo had likely annihilated the mountain demon king, but instead carried out Yuanji’s instructions and made the necessary arrangements. Thus, Yuanji officially settled his temple, Yuanji Temple, in the tribe.

Once again, Yuanji selected several children from the tribe to be taken under his wing, this time even choosing a few to become registered disciples. These children ran to ask Nanluo about it. Nanluo reassured them with a gentle smile, telling them that whether they followed Yuanji or himself, it was all the same—as long as they worked hard, everything would turn out well. Only then did the children skip away with joy.

When Yuanji first returned, he had considered marching into the mountain to capture the demon king and display it before the Yangping tribe for all to see. But after much deliberation, he refrained from taking action. Some time later, however, he heard rumors—he did not know from where—about Nanluo. He learned that Nanluo had entered the mountain with the demon king and come back unharmed, and had even transformed into a giant to engage in battle. This left Yuanji deeply shocked. He became determined to test himself against Nanluo, but dared not issue an open challenge, for fear of the Yangping people finding out. Should he win, he would gain great glory, but if he lost, his reputation would suffer greatly.

One quiet night, Yuanji arrived at Nanluo’s house. Before he could knock, the door slid open soundlessly. He entered, but not long after, he stepped back out and vanished into the darkness.

Nanluo’s room was simple, devoid of any furnishings. There were only two meditation mats and a bed not meant for sleeping. Seated cross-legged on the wooden bed, Nanluo wore a blue robe, embroidered with a hidden celestial pattern, the moon reflecting in the wind. Across his knees rested a long sword in a blue scabbard; upon closer inspection, a phoenix in flight was etched into the sheath. Above his head hovered a sphere of pure light, enveloping a mirror. The mirror faced heaven, its design arcane, as if linked to the cosmos; a faint strand of starlight from the sky filtered through the ceiling, merging slowly into the sphere of light.

Sword, mirror, and man formed a perfect trinity, creating a miniature world.

Opposite him, seated on a mat, was Luoshui, now fourteen years old. Though she had grown taller, she still appeared as delicate as a willow swaying in the wind. She wore a plain white robe; her long, black hair was tied with a vine, just like Nanluo’s, cascading over her shoulder, some strands falling across her chest.

Since beginning her cultivation with Nanluo, Luoshui had always practiced breathing and meditation at his side. Born frail, had it not been for Nanluo cleansing her meridians daily with spiritual energy, she might not have survived to adulthood. Even so, after three or four years, she had only just reached the physical constitution of a normal person. But these years of purification had not only strengthened her body; her flesh had become pure and tranquil, and she had finally stepped through the gateway of spiritual practice.

Were it not for having Nanluo as her uncle, who else would have spent years patiently cleansing and nurturing her constitution?

“Uncle,” Luoshui asked, her chin sharp and face pale yet resolute, her brows exuding a heroic spirit that set off her bright, pure eyes, “just now, that Immortal Master Yuan said you’ve already entered the path of Primordial Spirit Immortality. What does that mean?”

Nanluo laughed softly. “The threshold of the Primordial Spirit Immortal Path—I glimpsed it many years ago, but have yet to truly step through.” Seeming to recall something, he sighed and added, “Since you’ve entered the gate of spiritual practice, I’ll tell you the lineage of the method I’ve taught you.”

Luoshui’s face brightened with delight. “I’ve long wanted to ask, but since I hadn’t yet entered the path, I was afraid you wouldn’t tell me.”

Nanluo smiled. “When have you ever been afraid to ask? Enough joking. Listen well and remember—if someone asks you about your lineage in the future, you should know your heritage.”

Luoshui sat up straight, her eyes still sparkling with mirth. Nanluo continued, “In this world, there is a mountain called Kunlun, known as the mother of all mountains. Within it stands the Palace of the Supreme Ultimate. The practice you have learned is called the ‘Canon of Supreme Clarity and Response,’ a method for cultivating the path of the Primordial Spirit…”

Luoshui listened thoughtfully for a moment, then suddenly asked, “Uncle, have you already reached the highest realm, since you’re about to accomplish Primordial Spirit and step into the Immortal Path?”

Nanluo chuckled, “This is far from the highest realm. It is only the beginning. Once one attains the state of Spiritless Reflection and gazes into the void, there are no more methods to rely on—only personal insight. There are no more boundaries to divide realms. At this stage, magical power is no longer of importance in battle.”

“If magical power isn’t important, what is?” Luoshui asked in confusion.

“There are many things—comprehension of the Dao, supernatural abilities, secret arts, spiritual treasures. If you ever have the opportunity to travel the world, be doubly cautious. Never underestimate anyone; the other party may possess an unfathomable secret art.”

Luoshui grinned. “When I’ve achieved the Primordial Spirit and entered the Immortal Path, I’ll travel the world with you, Uncle.”

Nanluo closed his eyes and merely said, “Cultivate diligently,” and fell silent. Luoshui propped her chin, lost in thought, then suddenly spoke again. “Uncle, the people of the Wu tribe do not cultivate the Primordial Spirit. That person who fought you last time—what realm had he reached?”

Without opening his eyes, Nanluo replied, “He was a Great Wu of the Wu tribe. Attaining that is equivalent to our becoming Primordial Spirits and entering the Immortal Path.”

Luoshui murmured an acknowledgment, then after a while asked again, “Uncle, that demon king who came above our tribe—what level was he? Had he reached the Primordial Spirit Immortal Path?”

“There are countless demon cultivators and beast spirits in the world, each with unique powers. Their wondrous abilities are all different—how could one ever distinguish them clearly? Now, sit and meditate—do not slacken your efforts. If you attain a glimpse of the Great Dao and its supernatural powers, you need not worry about such things; with a wave of your hand, you will be able to deal with them.” As Nanluo spoke, his mind drifted to the scene in the Immortal Palace, when Kong Xuan unleashed the Five-Colored Divine Radiance and all the monsters bowed their heads in submission…

Luoshui giggled, her sharp chin resting on her hand, lost in a fox-like reverie.

Unbeknownst to them, two years had passed.

During these two years, Nanluo never left the Yangping tribe, spending every day in his wooden hut, meditating, communing with heaven and earth, reciting the Yellow Court Scripture. The Azure Sheen Sword and the Demon Moon Mirror had now been refined to perfection.

This was because, although both the Azure Sheen Sword and the Demon Moon Mirror were innate spiritual treasures, they did not contain the innate principles of the Dao, and so could be refined so thoroughly, so swiftly. Yet Nanluo did not consider them inferior to those treasures imbued with the primordial Dao. On the contrary, he thought that treasures without innate Dao could have myriad uses—any spell or method could exert even greater power through them. If he could comprehend even a sliver of the Great Dao, then with these treasures, he would be the equal of any.

One day, Nanluo suddenly had a premonition and stepped outside. He sensed the vital energies of heaven and earth surging toward a certain direction, but he could not determine what was drawing them.

He watched in confusion. Suddenly, beneath the boundless darkness, a brilliant flash of color flickered and vanished, soundless and fleeting. Then, a bolt of lightning, a burst of fire—each flashed across the pitch-black sky. Were it not night, Nanluo might not have noticed any of these glimmers.

The vital energies of heaven and earth continued to surge, unabated for three days. Nanluo grew increasingly alarmed. At first, he thought it must be a battle between mighty cultivators, stirring the world’s energies. But for such a struggle to continue, day and night, without pause for three days—such relentless combat seemed unlikely. For a battle to draw the energies of the world from so far afield, could it truly be so unending?

For more than a month, Nanluo pondered every possibility. The most likely was a great war between the Immortal Palace of Phoenix Mountain, the Dragon Palace, and Qilin Cliff—something he had long feared. Yet he could not reach those distant places, and even if he could, he would be powerless to intervene.

At last, after half a year, a group of humans suddenly appeared outside the Yangping tribe.