Chapter 88: Greetings, Everyone—The Southern Departure

Nan Luo had walked the path of cultivation for over twenty years. Since obtaining the Scripture of the Yellow Court, he had never ceased his recitations, evolving from loud chanting to silent meditation. Every day, he sat cross-legged, gathering his spirit, communicating with heaven and earth, and seeking understanding of the Dao. Unbeknownst to himself, his comprehension of the Great Way now rivaled that of ancient monsters who had cultivated for centuries.

Such progress stemmed from both innate talent and temperament. Once, he had sat in meditation outside the Palace of the Supreme Ultimate for six years, nearly rendering his heart as desolate as a withered tree, attaining a state where not even the finest dust could sully him. Later, within the Yangping Clan, he quietly recited scriptures—though the effects seemed slight at the time, they were profound in their influence...

Amid the crowd’s astonishment at Nan Luo’s imposing presence, Xingtian suddenly moved. With a thunderous roar, he brandished his twin axes and charged toward Nan Luo, who hovered high in the sky.

This time, Hou Yi did not hesitate. He drew his great celestial bow once more, the arrowhead aimed at the ever-ascending Nan Luo. It was clear the two intended to strike together, having realized that neither alone could hope to slay Nan Luo.

So, they prepared to act in unison.

But Nan Luo saw through their intent. If he had not fled before, it was only due to Xingtian’s relentless assault and the terror of Hou Yi’s arrows—one misstep or distraction could prove fatal. Otherwise, he would have vanished long ago…

Now, Nan Luo’s state was unprecedented. Sword, mirror, and self formed a triad, as if they had become a world of their own—yet at the same time, merged with the greater cosmos.

He soared ever higher, with such speed that Xingtian could not hope to catch up.

Nan Luo did not escape into the void. He simply rose, endlessly, as if intent on soaring beyond the Ninth Heaven.

The crowd was appalled, murmuring amongst themselves—was the innate spiritual treasure they coveted about to fly beyond their grasp?

Still, those who wished to seize the treasure, or bore enmity toward Nan Luo, remained motionless. Hou Yi had not moved; his arrow was nocked, and he seemed once again fused with the mountain beneath his feet.

If the previous arrow had conveyed an aura that could pierce all things, this one made everyone feel there was no escape—no matter how far one might run, the arrow would find its mark and bring doom.

A peerless presence—one arrow, and the world fell silent for ten thousand miles. This was the impression Hou Yi gave now.

This arrow was a technique he had mastered after returning to seclusion to heal his wounds, following the death of Zhao Mian.

Xingtian strode with mysterious steps, as though ascending a heavenly ladder, chasing after Nan Luo with boundless momentum and murderous intent that pierced the clouds. Yet, no matter how he pursued, he could not close the seemingly infinite distance between them.

At that moment, Nan Luo appeared unfathomable in the eyes of all. His gaze was serene, his lips curled in a barely perceptible smile that sent chills through those watching from below.

Siming’s heart was shaken. In Nan Luo’s eyes, he saw an aloofness, a gaze that looked down upon all beings...

On a distant mountain, Yang Tianyou, Xi Yu, and Yao Ji were equally astonished, though their surprise was mixed with genuine joy. It was like suddenly discovering a relative possessed unparalleled power—a surge of inexplicable warmth welled up within them.

Yao Ji’s eyes sparkled with stars, her small fists pressed to her chest, little cherry lips parted in awe—utterly adorable. She stared, unblinking, at the now barely visible Nan Luo, as the once-dim “moon” above seemed to grow ever brighter. Under the star-strewn sky, it appeared as a rain-washed moon—hazy yet remarkably beautiful.

Heaven and earth were silent.

In the far distance, the faint howls of mountain wolves seemed to echo to the moon, or perhaps it was a fox crying out to that mysterious, moon-like light.

Suddenly, everyone felt the mountain beneath their feet tremble inexplicably. When they focused, they sensed nothing—yet in the void, a cold, clear voice seemed to chant, and the world’s spiritual energy surged madly toward Hou Yi.

Simultaneously, from the boundless sky came drifting notes—like the mysterious music of the Great Dao, smoky and indistinct, impossible to grasp or comprehend...

Yao Ji, puzzled, asked Yang Tianyou beside her, “What is that sound? It seems to be there, but also not.”

Yang Tianyou, eyes fixed on Hou Yi, replied in shock, “This is the music of the Way, connecting heaven and earth. I never expected the great shaman Hou Yi of the Wu tribe to attain such a realm—he must be second only to the ancestral shamans now. But he is not alone—Nan Luo too has mastered the Great Dao’s music.”

As Yang Tianyou spoke, Hou Yi’s cold, sacred voice resounded, echoing like the voice of heaven and earth:

“Star… Fall…”

This arrow was named Starfall, signifying an arrow that could bring down even the stars from the sky.

The moment the arrow left the string, it vanished into the night, and in a heartbeat, seemed to pierce that “moon.”

At the sight of this arrow, a chill gripped every heart—surely, Nan Luo could not escape now.

But Hou Yi knew better than anyone the resistance his arrow faced. Beneath that moonlight, everything was diminished—vital energy, spirit, intent—none flowed as freely as before. Even communion with heaven and earth was many times more difficult. It was only after great effort that he loosed this arrow.

To the onlookers, it seemed unstoppable—a flash of invincibility. But Hou Yi felt the immense resistance in the void, as though his arrow was burrowing through earth rather than air.

He understood that this was all due to the “moon” above. At first, he had not cared, but by the time he realized the truth, it was too late—the world was already shrouded in that radiance.

Others might not know why Nan Luo kept rising and did not simply flee. In truth, it was because Hou Yi had not yet shot; Nan Luo was forced to ascend, using the moonlight’s shroud to weaken Hou Yi’s power.

Just as Hou Yi expected, his strongest arrow still could not bring Nan Luo down. He knew that by the time the arrow reached Nan Luo, it retained at best sixty or seventy percent of its power.

A thunderous boom split the sky.

A surging shockwave lifted the “moon” high, scattering clouds and mist, and the shroud of moonlight vanished from the heavens.

Yet the moonlight did not fully disappear. Instead, it gathered into a beam that enveloped Nan Luo, though its strength was much reduced.

From high above came Nan Luo’s clear voice: “Farewell, everyone. Nan Luo takes his leave.”

“He’s wounded!” someone suddenly shouted.

“That’s right, and not lightly either. Ha! The Demon Moon Mirror will be mine today!” As soon as the voice fell, a figure shot into the sky in pursuit.

“Why should it be yours? That Demon Moon Mirror is destined to be mine!” Another ascended, bellowing in the void.

More and more people joined the silent chase.

Yao Ji pointed at the spot where Nan Luo vanished and exclaimed, “He’s so amazing! I want him as my master!”

Yang Tianyou, in much better spirits, laughed, “Let’s see if fate allows it. We should follow as well and see how badly he’s hurt.” With that, the three of them dashed off into the darkness. Unlike the others who flew through the air, they flitted through the forest, astonishingly fast.

Xingtian did not pursue, nor did Hou Yi. They simply watched, unmoved, as the others gave chase, looking both disdainful and supremely confident, like seasoned hunters coldly observing their prey’s desperate flight.