Chapter Eleven: The Immortal Palace of Phoenix Mountain

Phoenix Mountain was so named because it was home to the only phoenix that had taken shape since the beginning of heaven and earth. Countless beings in the world wielded immense supernatural powers, yet none dared claim immortality. At the time, the world was newly formed, much of it still shrouded in chaos, but many living creatures had already been nourished alongside the evolution of the heavens and earth. They were born with innate abilities, their very existence imbued with the great Dao. Naturally, they took notice when the phoenix built a palace with supreme power upon the mountain. When the phoenix used unrivaled magic to inscribe the words “Undying” upon the plaque above the palace gates, many beings of immense power who had come into being with the world gathered to challenge it.

There were not yet divisions of years, months, or days, so those who witnessed that great battle only knew that the sun and moon had cycled more than three hundred times. At first, both sides restrained their powers, their contests ending before true harm was done; victory and defeat were understood in their hearts. But as time wore on and challengers grew more numerous, the phoenix grew impatient and unleashed its true might, ensnaring all the combatants at once and prevailing in a single battle.

This action offended many powerful beings who prized their status. The conflict escalated from simple contests to battles involving seals, suppression, and even struggles of life and death. Even with its vast powers, the phoenix could not vanquish so many at once, but drawing strength from the newly built Undying Palace and channeling the forces of heaven and earth, it remained undefeated. Eventually, one by one, the challengers withdrew.

From then on, the Undying Palace of Phoenix Mountain became the most revered existence under the heavens, and the phoenix became known as the Undying Phoenix.

Nanluo learned the name of the Undying Palace of Phoenix Mountain from Lord Yangli. He could sense the power and awe associated with the palace in Lord Yangli’s tone and expression. He also knew that when he was first captured by the third prince of the Eagle Clan, he was to be sent to the Undying Palace as a servant.

But to be admitted to the palace, one had to be selected from among countless candidates, with only a one-in-ten-million chance of entry.

Now, Nanluo had already spent over a year in the Undying Palace, and it all felt like a dream—unreal and incredible.

When he first set foot on Phoenix Mountain and entered the palace, he felt it had all happened too easily. According to Lord Yangli, not just anyone could become a servant here; one needed both a handsome appearance and a foundation of magical power, and even then, admission was by selection.

Yet when Nanluo and Yingjiu were beset in midair by two black flood dragons that appeared out of nowhere, and danger was closing in, a sudden burst of radiant light poured down from the heavens. Brilliant and resplendent, the light blinded him. When Nanluo regained his sight, the two dragons that had left Yingjiu with no means of resistance were already lifeless.

A new figure stood at his side, clad in a robe shimmering with iridescent colors. When Nanluo tried to see him clearly, he felt as though he were enveloped in a rainbow’s glow, a dizzying sensation overtaking him. His time wandering the mountains had taught him that such a feeling was dangerous, so he bit his tongue sharply to clear his mind.

Yingjiu greeted the newcomer with deep respect, a sincerity that came from the heart. They seemed to exchange a few words, but Nanluo, still reeling from his dizziness, heard nothing.

“I’ll take this one with me.”

Nanluo kept his head bowed, not daring to look at the newcomer for fear of falling into that trance again, but the man’s gentle voice, so at odds with his magnificent robe, rang in his ears.

“Yes, he was to be brought before the palace for selection, but among those from Cangmang Cliff, he is the best,” Yingjiu replied.

Nanluo hadn’t expected Yingjiu to praise him at such a moment. He felt a sudden lightness, and when he tried to respond modestly, he realized he was already somewhere unfamiliar.

“My name is Kong Xuan. From today on, you will follow me.”

Kong Xuan, the Son of the Phoenix—Nanluo recalled Lord Yangli’s words. Only days before, he had been hiding and wandering in the mountains, and now he found himself in the mightiest palace under heaven.

The palace was splendid beyond anything Nanluo had ever seen or imagined. Even the walls seemed elusive and hard to behold clearly.

Within the Undying Palace were many smaller halls. The Peacock Hall was where Kong Xuan resided, situated in the westernmost part of the palace, making it the outermost hall.

Though remote, the Peacock Hall was still grand and opulent, its atmosphere majestic and vigorous. The two characters for “Peacock” above the entrance seemed ready to soar into the sky at any moment. Most striking was the small peacock engraved beside the characters—though diminutive, it exuded an air of supreme pride, as if it looked down upon the world. The five brilliant feathers on its tail seemed to contain all the colors of existence.

Could that be Kong Xuan’s true form?

Apart from Kong Xuan himself, Nanluo was the only permanent resident of the Peacock Hall. Since bringing Nanluo back, Kong Xuan had begun a solitary retreat, occasionally emerging only to return soon after. Thus, the vast Peacock Hall was left empty, save for Nanluo.

Those who could grasp the flow of the years attained boundless power and renown; those who could not became dust.

The spiritual energy in the Undying Palace was many times richer than that which Nanluo had ever encountered in the mountains. Having found himself with little to do, and realizing that life here was not as terrifying as he had imagined, Nanluo dared not leave the Peacock Hall, nor even venture into its many chambers, for Kong Xuan had warned him not to wander.

Cultivation was the best way to pass the time, and Nanluo was eager to practice. Fearing he might lose track of time and miss Kong Xuan’s return, he meditated outside the door to Kong Xuan’s retreat chamber.

He had always wanted to learn the Earth Burrowing Art from Lord Yangli. In the past, he’d thought Lord Yangli stingy, for despite their close bond and shared hardships, Lord Yangli had never agreed to teach him.

Now he understood why: Lord Yangli simply could not teach it. It was his innate, life-bound supernatural power, something that could not be conveyed in words to someone of insufficient cultivation. Most crucially, mastering the Earth Burrowing Art required a spiritual imprint, like the one sealed within the jade slip Nanluo had once received in the prison of Cangmang Cliff—a mark for those who had never cultivated before. But Lord Yangli’s Earth Burrowing Art had awakened as his own life-bound talent. To pass it on was not teaching, but inheritance—a process akin to engraving the essence of the Dao upon the recipient’s soul.

Nanluo had once asked Kong Xuan if Lord Yangli would die from this. Kong Xuan replied that he would not, but would be weakened for a time, and his Earth Burrowing Art would never progress further. Nanluo was silent, strangely moved. Had he known this before, he would never have pressed Lord Yangli to teach him.

He asked Kong Xuan whether all magical arts and divine powers could only be passed on in this way. Kong Xuan smiled and said that, after reaching a certain level, one could teach by expounding the Dao, or record the art in written form with spiritual power, but then it would merely be a spell, and its potency, once mastered, would be much less.

Now, with what had happened unchangeable and unable to be undone, Nanluo could only pray that Lord Yangli would not die. He did not know how long ‘a while’ of weakness meant, only that the mountains were fraught with danger, and that aside from the Earth Burrowing Art, Lord Yangli had no other means to save himself.

Thus, filled with guilt, Nanluo devoted himself to cultivation day and night at the door to Kong Xuan’s retreat, so intent that he sometimes failed to notice even when Kong Xuan emerged.