Chapter Six: The Art of Burrowing Through the Earth

At night, the sky was dotted with countless stars, and a crescent moon hung in the southwest. The hazy light of stars and moon mingled together, spilling through the passage that had been blasted open by the southern plunge, just enough to envelop a yellow antelope by the edge of the pool.

This yellow antelope was shrouded in a layer of yellow mist. The faint brilliance of the stars and moon fell upon it, and the yellow mist seemed to inhale and exhale, as if absorbing the starlight and moonlight into itself.

Nan Luo had long since noticed the oddity of this yellow antelope. He could also clearly sense that the spiritual energy gathering above the frigid pool was constantly flowing towards the antelope.

Suddenly, the yellow mist on the antelope’s body, which had been swallowing and spitting the starlight and moonlight, swelled violently, and the antelope vanished from where it stood. In the next instant, its angry voice rang out from not far away: “Human boy, since you can move, why didn’t you tell this Great Immortal?”

From the water came the sounds of splashing and swimming, with Nan Luo’s voice mingled in: “Hehe, forgive me, Great Immortal. I was only afraid of disturbing your cultivation…”

“Hmph, don’t think I, the Great Immortal, don’t know what’s on your mind. You humans always look honest and sincere, but you’re full of schemes.” The yellow antelope stood a dozen meters away, eyeing Nan Luo as he climbed out of the pool, taking two steps back as it spoke.

Nan Luo was puzzled. When had he ever looked honest and sincere? In his mind, honest people were those who got bullied and lacked ability. He certainly didn’t wish to be seen that way, especially since he considered himself rather good-looking. At least in that prison cell, among so many people, Nan Luo thought none were as handsome.

Not only did the antelope disparage his looks for no reason, but it also slandered his character with naked bluntness. Nan Luo was displeased, but did not dare retort too forcefully. Although the antelope hadn’t shown itself to be especially dangerous, that earth-escaping technique alone made Nan Luo both envious and wary. And after a day of conversation together, the two were no longer strangers.

So Nan Luo resorted to another round of explanation and flattery. The antelope seemed convinced, and in the end, the two actually sat together in the patch where the light of stars and moon fell.

Nan Luo discovered a significant problem: this yellow antelope was extremely timid. At the slightest sound, its first reaction was to conjure yellow mist and vanish. Even when Nan Luo was still in the water, he had seen the antelope flicker around the pool for no apparent reason, but had thought it was just showing off its supernatural powers.

But now, sitting together, Nan Luo could not help but suspect otherwise. Whenever there was a noise—clearly audible to both—the antelope would disappear and reappear on Nan Luo’s other side, then peer cautiously toward the source of the sound, as if using Nan Luo as a shield.

After having the antelope dart around him a few times, Nan Luo said that those were just normal noises, nothing to worry about, and that apart from the two of them, not even a bird could be found in this place.

But the antelope replied smugly, “Do you know what’s most important when walking in the mountains and forests?” Nan Luo shook his head. The antelope grew even more self-satisfied. “Today, I’ll teach you the art of traversing the wild. Do you know what courage is? I’ll tell you: if you want to survive long in the wilderness, courage is the most important thing.”

Nan Luo curled his lip, thinking, “With your nerves, the sheep raised in my tribe are probably braver than you…”

The longer Nan Luo spent with the yellow antelope, the less monstrous and terrifying it seemed. In the end, he thought, monsters are just like this too—fearful and timid.

“Boy, what’s with that look on your face? I’ll have you know, I’m not timid. I used to know many who were brave, but now they’re all dead. Only I’m still alive. And do you know why?”

Nan Luo discovered another thing about the antelope: it was talkative, and loved to play the teacher. Though he didn’t much like this trait, he wasn’t annoyed by it either. What did make him want to cough up blood was its penchant for lecturing. Whatever Nan Luo asked, the antelope would go on endlessly, often digressing wildly—ask about relieving oneself and it would start talking about eating…

That wasn’t so bad, but when Nan Luo finally couldn’t help but ask to learn the earth-escaping technique, the antelope just rolled its eyes and shut them. Only after Nan Luo heaped on the flattery did the antelope, eyes still closed, reply, “Keep dreaming about immortality.”

From this self-proclaimed Great Immortal Yangli, Nan Luo learned that Phoenix Mountain’s Undying Palace and the Heavenly Pool Dragon Palace were mortal enemies. The third prince of Eagle King from Cangmang Cliff belonged to the Phoenix Mountain faction, while the Azure Flood Dragon King’s lair—of the Dragon Palace—was nearby. So, battles between the two sides occurred often, and whenever they did, all the intelligent creatures in their domains would be summoned to join. That’s why, when Nan Luo fell here, he wasn’t devoured by the Blackwater Serpent that originally occupied this place.

As soon as dawn broke, Nan Luo announced his intention to leave, and to his surprise, the antelope decided to go with him. Nan Luo was eager to leave, worried that the Blackwater Serpent might return and swallow him whole, and also wanting to put as much distance between himself and Cangmang Cliff as possible. Though he didn’t know how far he was from his tribe, he checked the sun, determined a direction, and broke a sturdy stick to walk towards the rising sun.

Nan Luo vaguely remembered that when he was captured, he had been flying west. So, without hesitation, he set out eastward.

There was no question of strolling at leisure or traveling under the stars, nor did he feel any particular gratitude or fondness for the self-styled Great Immortal Yangli. Nan Luo never considered himself glib; he talked to the talkative, timid antelope mostly out of the joy of newfound freedom and curiosity about the things it knew.

After his breakthrough in the prison, Nan Luo was delighted, but also realized the vast gap between himself and these monsters. To be precise, he hadn’t even entered the first stage of the Qi Refining Path.

Now, Nan Luo no longer doubted that humans could eventually fly in the sky. He hoped he’d achieve it one day. In fact, he wanted to learn any wondrous ability he saw, including the yellow antelope’s earth-escaping art. He was like a man parched in the desert—if any liquid was placed before him, he’d drink it, even if it was poison, so long as he didn’t know.

He had soaked in that frigid pool for four days; both his surface and deeper injuries had fully healed. Nan Luo even felt that his skin was smoother and glossier, and after being pricked by thorny mountain plants, his wounds healed quickly, leaving not even a scar. Most importantly, at night, while meditating and cultivating, he found that his body absorbed spiritual energy much faster, as if all his pores had been thoroughly cleansed.

When Nan Luo asked why the yellow antelope was following him, the antelope said it wanted to see what the east was like. Nan Luo didn’t bother to probe further, but the antelope’s next words left him feeling stifled: “I also want to see when you’ll die.”

From then on, Nan Luo decided not to speak to the antelope unless it was willing to teach him the earth-escaping art.

His cultivation so far had followed the spirit-guiding method sealed in the jade slip, just as a novice blacksmith would follow his master’s rhythm, striking iron mechanically. But now, Nan Luo had achieved a true understanding—the kind that comes with practice. With that understanding came experimentation, and though he hadn’t yet figured out the earth-escaping technique, he had managed to run faster and see farther.

He reckoned he could now outrun the white wolf that lived behind his tribe’s mountain. Sometimes, he even wanted to fight it, but quickly dismissed the idea—he definitely couldn’t win a fight, but he could certainly outrun it. That was his current measure of his own strength.

After leaving the frigid pool and exiting the valley, the road became difficult—dense forest, shadows that seemed to conceal endless dangers. Nan Luo held a sturdy stick as thick as his wrist, about a meter and a half long, and advanced slowly through the undergrowth. The self-styled Great Immortal Yangli followed behind, treading the path Nan Luo blazed, relaxed and unhurried.

Five days passed without encountering any monsters. Nan Luo supposed they had all been summoned by the Azure Flood Dragon King and the factions from Cangmang Cliff.

Autumn had come, and the nights were cool. Nan Luo’s hemp tunic had long since been reduced to rags in the prison. After five days of trekking through the forest, he tore it off and tied it around his waist. Fortunately, he didn’t need to worry about food—the fasting pill he’d obtained at Cangmang Cliff would keep him from hunger for a year. Still, Nan Luo enjoyed eating; it made him feel like his old self. He wanted to hunt a rabbit to roast, but hadn’t seen a single animal on the way, as if all the creatures had gone into hibernation.

Wild fruit abounded in the mountains, but Nan Luo only picked and ate those he recognized.

A waft of fragrant air drifted past Nan Luo’s nose. Turning, he saw beside a small stream, on a low bush, more than a dozen glistening red berries shining brightly in the sunlight, exuding irresistible allure.

“Don’t know them,” Nan Luo thought, recalling the priest’s warning: “Never eat wild fruit in the mountains indiscriminately; the prettiest ones are often the most poisonous.”

Just as Nan Luo was about to leave, the Great Immortal Yangli leapt over to the bush and began gobbling up the fruit, leaves and all, glancing at Nan Luo as if afraid he might come to snatch them.

If the Great Immortal could eat them, surely he could too. Nan Luo wouldn’t just stand by—these fragrant berries clearly surpassed any wild fruit he’d ever tasted. But as Nan Luo reached for them, the antelope kept shifting to block him, using its body to shield the fruit. Exasperated, Nan Luo gave its hindquarters a kick.

The antelope spun around as if mortally offended, eyes flushed with red, a twig still hanging from its mouth. It hadn’t even spared the branches.

Nan Luo’s heart tightened, and he took a step back. Though he was no longer as fearful or respectful as when they first met, the antelope now seemed truly angry, and he felt uneasy.

“It’s nothing, just a kick…” Nan Luo began, but before he could finish, yellow mist flared around the antelope, shrouding it in a thin veil. Lowering its head, it charged at Nan Luo, its short, blunt horns aiming straight for him.

It moved as swiftly as a bird gliding through the sky.