Chapter Eighty: Flaying and Tendon Extraction

Nanluo used to fantasize about running faster than the white wolf, about soaring through the sky like a bird to witness sights unseen by others. But now, he wished only to return—to his clan in Yangping, nowhere else.

Once, he had doubted the priest’s stories of immortality and flight, yet now he had achieved both, and with such mastery that even the storyteller priest could scarcely imagine it. He had endured humiliation, hovered at the edge of life and death, received great kindness, and killed many.

He no longer knew if he was still the youth who once sat before the wooden cabin, gazing up at the sky.

The Celestial Court stood atop the pinnacle of heaven and earth, but felt strangely cold and empty.

Nanluo returned there, unaware that he had become a figure known to all living beings beneath heaven. Unexpectedly, the Celestial Court fell silent during this time, abandoning its former imperial dominance. Nanluo welcomed the peace, and in a haze, entered a semi-closed state of cultivation.

Those who saw him each day found him standing on the vast plaza, overlooking the masses; in truth, his mind had sunk deep into contemplation of the Dao he had learned.

From the rudimentary breathing techniques taught by the Yangping clan’s priest, to the "Treatise of Spiritual Response" learned in the Taiji Palace—all were methods of cultivating qi, honing magical power through patient effort...

Yet most often, Nanluo’s thoughts dwelled on the "Yellow Court" scripture and the jade tablet of the Five Elements given by Kong Xuan. Now, however, four swords appeared in his thoughts—four swords radiating murderous energy.

He could no longer recite the "Yellow Court" aloud; when he silently intoned it, he found the effect was no less than speaking it. The sacred text flowed in his heart, his soul seemed to merge with heaven and earth, and only then did Nanluo realize he had unknowingly achieved the realm of silent recitation.

Cultivators use special incantations to channel the forces of heaven and earth and perform their magic. These incantations have two levels: spoken aloud or silently within the mind. In mortal combat, silent recitation offers tremendous advantages in speed, power, and secrecy.

If reaching the silent recitation level of the "Yellow Court" brought Nanluo quiet joy, then his sudden insight into the Five Elements astonished him. Previously, due to the inheritance mark from Master Yangli, he had only a deep understanding of earth, but now he had entered into all five elements. The Five Elements generate and restrain one another, and all things are bound by them. He never imagined he could one day cultivate a multicolored divine light like Kong Xuan; yet the path of Five Elements differs by person, and so too does what each one comprehends...

Taking out the jade tablet again, he felt something different—indescribable, but his understanding of the world had shifted. Heaven and earth seemed clearer, the restraints on his body and soul diminished.

If these were subtle changes in perception and realm, intangible and gradually improved, then the four swords in his mind were far more unsettling. When Nanluo first saw them, he was shaken; unexpectedly, whenever he calmed his mind, their forms reappeared in his thoughts.

Four swords, each a different color, each with its own murderous aura: righteous and awe-inspiring, coldly resolute, frenzied slaughter, gloomy and terrifying. Their presence distressed Nanluo, as if something alien had been forcibly implanted in his mind. Yet over time, their sword intents seemed to blend together—or perhaps to fade away—for the swords themselves vanished, but their intent seeped into Nanluo’s soul.

When the swords disappeared, Nanluo suddenly understood: the Daoist had not intended to give him the sword intents themselves, but the method to wield them... The four intents were alternative paths; they could be understood, observed, but not directly used.

One day, Nanluo realized the sword intent was merely an expression of the heart. When your heart is filled with murderous intent, your sword too carries death. And since the mind has no upper limit, the stronger your will, the greater your sword intent and its power.

He did not know that his approach had already diverged from that of the Supreme Daoist; the Supreme Daoist sought to comprehend and transcend the sword intents within the four swords, while Nanluo fused his own intent into the sword. Which was superior, none could say.

As for the method Fuxi had passed down for wielding spiritual treasures, Nanluo now found it unremarkable—he simply had not previously found the door to entry.

So, half-awake and half-dreaming, Nanluo stood atop Buzhou Mountain, at the edge of the Celestial Court plaza, letting day and night pass and the winds of heaven and earth shift.

He stood there for three years...

Suddenly awakened, Nanluo realized his vantage point, and with a glance, felt all living things were but ants.

He stood for a long time, pondering what his sudden enlightenment had gained him, yet found it impossible to describe. His magical power had grown deeper and purer... but as for other changes, he could not say.

Entering the Celestial Court, he arrived at the Star Hall and found more than ten people already present. When they saw Nanluo enter, each wore a peculiar expression.

Nanluo remained calm, as if he saw nothing.

Upon seeing so many, he realized he must have stood undisturbed for a long time, likely because Emperor Jun or Taiyi had issued orders.

Ignoring their looks, he stepped forward and bowed to Emperor Jun seated above, saying, “Thank you, Heavenly Emperor, for your support.”

Emperor Jun smiled gently, “You and I are both cultivators; how could I fail to appreciate the rarity of sudden enlightenment? Your opportunity is fortune itself. I would not interrupt another’s path of cultivation.”

Taiyi, seated nearby, roared, “Kid, not bad! You dare to challenge me—quite the guts you have!”

Nanluo apologized repeatedly, seeing that Taiyi was not truly angry.

Emperor Jun said, “With your current cultivation, you could well be called the foremost Star Lord of the Celestial Court. It is time you served the Celestial Court... Many are wondering what happened to us these three years, not realizing that these three years have placed me in an invincible position; let any great divine power try, they cannot harm our Celestial Court.”

Nanluo wondered what Emperor Jun had done in those three years, but dismissed the thought and said, “Nanluo has been away from the clan for over three years, though I promised to return in two. I have broken my word; I beg the Heavenly Emperor to permit me to return to the clan, to reassure my people.”

The Heavenly Emperor replied, “I rule all living things, not a jailer. Go quickly and return quickly; I have tasks for you.”

Nanluo thanked him, turned, and left. The dozen others in the hall all wore unfriendly expressions.

He departed calmly, eyes straight ahead, as if he saw nothing, yet seeming to see all, simply disdaining to respond.

From the calm of his clan, to the tumult outside, and now back to stillness—calm as the night sky, as a cold pond.

As a child, he loved to gaze at the sky, wondering if someone might fly overhead. Now, able to soar through heaven and earth, he no longer cared for riding the clouds.

Just as before, he took a step, and vanished into the void... It looked no different from his old earth-burrowing technique, but only Nanluo knew how profound the difference truly was.

One step, and a thousand mountains and rivers lay behind him.

Though his mind was calm, the thought of returning still stirred an inexplicable feeling.

A winding river flowed joyfully, a plain rich for planting crops, and a Yangping Mountain that no longer seemed so grand to Nanluo.

At the foot of Yangping Mountain sat the clan’s village.

Nanluo stood at the gate, seeing the dilapidated entrance, and felt a bad premonition.

His divine sense swept over the village, and its circumstances became clear: the clan, once numbering over five hundred, now had fewer than a hundred, and scarcely any familiar faces.

At the altar, a dozen children and youths formed a circle, while adults busied themselves nearby. A fifteen or sixteen-year-old boy sat at the altar’s edge, speaking animatedly to the gathered children.

A distant adult called out, “Sanwa, stop listening to Xiaohu’s nonsense and come help hold the thread. Once this net is finished, Dad will take you fishing...”

One child reluctantly left the group.

The tiger-headed youth at the altar’s edge declared loudly, “Who says I’m speaking nonsense? I told you, three years ago the Star Lord who watched the heavens was definitely our clan’s priest elder—I learned magical arts from him myself!”

The adult smiled, not believing him. Xiaohu’s posture grew defiant, as if to argue further, but he softened, saying to the children, “Don’t mind them. Today I’ll tell you about how our priest elder returned from learning arts and fought monsters. At that time, the sky was filled with dark clouds, a fierce-faced monster...”

Suddenly, his voice stopped. The children looked at him in surprise; usually, nothing could interrupt his stories about the priest.

As they wondered, Xiaohu pushed himself off the altar and, in his haste, nearly stumbled, but he did not pause, running forward. The others followed his gaze: somehow, a man had appeared there, robes fluttering, yet shrouded in deadly aura.

The always lively, wild Xiaohu ran to the robed man, knelt with a thud, and clung to his leg, crying aloud...

At once, several others emerged from the crowd, walked quickly forward, knelt, and wept—men, women, young and old alike.

The rest were puzzled; they had come here as refugees and only knew the clan’s past from the tales told by those like Xiaohu.

Suddenly, they realized—could this be the priest elder so often spoken of?

Nanluo’s face was cold and unmoving, his jaw clenched tightly.

A murderous aura drifted in the void.

“What happened?” Nanluo’s voice seemed squeezed through clenched teeth, tinged with bloodthirst.

Xiaohu raised his head, eyes red, no longer the strong boy he usually was. Murderous intent and fierceness overflowed from his gaze. “After the priest elder left, the white wolf from the mountain returned... Most of the clan died; only twenty or so of us escaped. Luoshui was rescued by a fairy...”

“Did the white wolf die?” Nanluo asked in a low voice.

“No, it escaped,” Xiaohu replied bitterly.

“Good, so it’s still alive. I will find it, skin it, and tear out its sinews.”

Nanluo’s words were icy with killing intent. As his words ended, he vanished.

Those who did not know Nanluo were stunned; after a long silence, someone said, “So this really is the priest elder you spoke of...”

“This is our priest elder, Priest Nanluo. He’s gone to catch the wolf demon. I’ll wait at the gate to see it skinned and its sinews torn out.” Xiaohu looked around, declaring loudly and with heroic spirit.

He strode to the gate and stood, waiting.

The setting sun cast the gate in bleak, mottled light; the ground before it seemed stained with blood. Beneath the gate, Xiaohu’s face was half-shadowed, half-lit by the sunset, fierce and murderous.

Suddenly, a majestic voice echoed from the void.

“Human, have you come for vengeance?”

A sharp clang—sword energy soared.

Everyone listened intently.

Suddenly, someone pointed at the sky and shouted, “Look there...!”

A blood wolf appeared in the sky, enormous as if it could devour heaven and earth, a stench filling the void. A sword light flashed, and the blood wolf’s imposing form instantly collapsed.

A giant white wolf appeared in the void, its eyes now filled with terror rather than cruelty and greed. It slashed a paw through the air, creating a bloody fissure that became a door, and leapt through.

Just then, Nanluo appeared. Another sword light split the void, and the escaping white wolf tumbled out, disheveled and frightened.

“Human, do you know my origins? If you kill me, my kin will come for you, and you will be utterly destroyed!”

His answer was a rainbow-colored rope of light. Nanluo pointed, and the wolf demon was instantly bound and dropped from the clouds.

The villagers cried out in astonishment, amazed at Nanluo’s power and that such immortals truly existed.

As they rushed to the gate, the notorious white wolf hung from it, swinging in the sunset, while Nanluo stood nearby, face cold as ever.

“Bring the knives,” Xiaohu barked.

Several children soon returned with an assortment of blades.

Xiaohu took a hooked knife and slashed at the white wolf, truly intent on skinning it.

The wolf, possessing demonic power, endured the pain and stared coldly at Xiaohu, who showed no fear, cutting with tears streaming down his face, crying, “This cut is for the chieftain, this cut is for my father, this cut...”

“Do you know who my ancestor is? Do you know how many with divine powers are in my wolf clan? You dare treat me so—you will all die, all die...” the white wolf suddenly threatened in human speech.

Nanluo ignored him, but his eyes burned with undiminished killing intent.

At this moment, the four sword intents in Nanluo’s mind slowly merged with his murderous intent.

As he listened to Xiaohu recount everything, Nanluo realized who had rescued Luoshui—the green-robed woman whose scissors he had seen in action. He had not expected the wolf demon to survive her blades.

“You think you’re clever? If I hadn’t been badly wounded three years ago, how could you have caught me?”

Nanluo paid no heed, gazing at the sunset clouds.

The only sound in the void was Xiaohu’s weeping cries, as if calling to those who had died.

“This cut is for A’mu, this cut is for Yuannian...”

Xiaohu was covered in blood, nearly mad.

Suddenly, a streak of blood light shot from the sky, accompanied by a voice.

“Who dares harm my Bloodthirsty Wolf clan? Such courage—are you not afraid of utter destruction?”

The voice filled the space, causing many to step back. Xiaohu’s hand paused.

“Second Brother... Second Brother, save me! He caught me while I was wounded and let these mortals humiliate me. I want to eat them all, eat them all!” the white wolf wailed.

“Keep cutting, strip its skin, tear its sinews,” Nanluo commanded coldly, without turning.

The newcomer revealed himself—a middle-aged man in blood-red robes. Hearing Nanluo’s words, his eyes flashed with murderous intent and he prepared to act, but suddenly stopped.

He said in a low voice, “So you are the Star Lord who watches the heavens. My eldest brother serves the Celestial Court with you; could you grant some mercy and spare my seventh brother?”

Nanluo raised his head slightly, hands behind his back, speaking softly but chillingly, “Leave. Or I’ll carve you up as well.”