Chapter 139: One Step Through Spring and Autumn

Nan Luo’s journey south was solely to rescue Bei Ling from the Yuxu Palace on Mount Kunlun, though even he could not be certain whether he would succeed. Deep down, he lacked confidence; after all, by the time the Master Tongxuan had arranged for his mission, the Yuxu Palace had already taken in twelve disciples.

Even the master of the Wuzhuang Temple had remarked that each of those disciples possessed such pure and noble roots that they were destined to become the preeminent figures of the primordial world. Nan Luo recalled the Daoist Yuding he had encountered at Mount Tao; though their clash had been but a fleeting moment, he knew the man was no less capable than himself, and he suspected the other twelve disciples were likely of similar caliber.

The gates of the Wuzhuang Temple swung open repeatedly, admitting a steady stream of guests. Many were individuals Nan Luo had met years prior, and their surprise upon seeing him was evident. Yet, that surprise vanished as quickly as it had appeared. No one asked how he had come to be there, nor did they inquire about his time in the Heavenly Court. They simply returned to their old ways—tasting fine tea and debating the Dao.

Just as in years past, each guest took turns expounding upon the Dao, and it remained Nan Luo’s role to speak last. Yet, he was no longer the restless youth who had stumbled through a recitation of the "Huangting Classic." Instead, he spoke with calm composure, articulating the principles of the Five Elements of Heaven and Earth, weaving the profound, mystical sounds of the Great Dao into his words. Above the Wuzhuang Temple, five-colored clouds and mists began to drift and swirl; amidst the profound resonance, one could hear the roar of rushing rivers, while the sounds of wind, rain, thunder, and lightning lay hidden within.

Those who listened found themselves involuntarily entranced, overcome by a sense of detachment from the dust of the world, as if the very Five Elements of Heaven and Earth were manifesting clearly within their minds. It was an indescribable, ineffable experience, yet in that sudden clarity, many things were finally understood.

When the others awoke from their trance, Nan Luo had already departed. They were struck with bewilderment, exchanging glances that betrayed their shared shock.

"Has he entered the Dao Realm?" one asked. No one could answer; having never reached the Dao Realm themselves, they knew only what rumor and legend suggested.

In their hearts, Nan Luo’s stature rose boundlessly. According to their understanding, only those who had attained the Dao Realm could cause golden lotuses to spring from the earth and flowers to bloom in the void, leading others into such profound states of sudden enlightenment.

Nan Luo had not reached the Dao Realm, but he was infinitely close. During his time within the Taiyin Stele, he had possessed the power of the Dao Realm, even if his cultivation level had not matched it. Upon leaving, his cultivation remained largely unaffected. Though his soul had been injured, years of nourishing it with the essence of heaven and earth had restored it to nearly full strength.

The Ginseng Fruit, though downplayed by the master of the Wuzhuang Temple, had proven remarkably effective, possessing the unique property of nourishing the soul. Only now did Nan Luo realize the fruit was truly as legendary as its name suggested—one of the rarest spiritual fruits in all creation.

Leaving the Wuzhuang Temple, he continued to follow the spiritual veins of the mountains and rivers. He still wore his "Heaven-Hiding, Moon-Reflecting, Wind-Bathing Robe." He understood clearly that the reason his movements had been tracked by others was simply that his mastery of power was not yet sufficient; all other factors were secondary.

He held a firm conviction in his heart: one day, no one would be able to scheme against him, nor would anyone be able to track his path. This was a private thought, never revealed in his demeanor.

As he had told the master of the Wuzhuang Temple, if the Yuxu Palace refused his request, he would simply return in a hundred or a thousand years. To many, this might sound like a weak excuse, but given the formidable power of the Yuxu Palace’s master, it was a testament to Nan Luo’s promise and his pride.

The promise was made to Bei Ling, who lay trapped beneath the stone steps. And who, in this primordial world, would dare speak of returning to the Yuxu Palace—where the Daoist Yuanshi took in disciples—a hundred or a thousand years later?

Nan Luo was different now. His stride remained unhurried, like a leisurely stroll through a garden. Yet, with every step he took, the earth seemed to ripple beneath him. Liuli, trailing behind, found himself falling further and further back. Each time he strained to catch up before Nan Luo’s next footfall, Nan Luo would have already vanished into the distance.

Liuli had not remained at the Wuzhuang Temple; when Nan Luo rose to leave, he followed without a backward glance. His eyes, bright and brimming with clarity, remained fixed on Nan Luo’s moving feet, desperately trying to discern how he moved so far in that single instant. It was not just sudden; it was natural—silent, effortless, without the slightest fluctuation of spiritual energy.

He moved like drifting clouds and flowing winds, ethereal and leaving no trace. There was a subtle sense of transcendence, as if he were beyond the reach of heaven and earth.

Liuli chased with all his might, but just as he neared, Nan Luo would pull away again. Every time Nan Luo vanished, Liuli’s eyes would swirl with clear light, trying to catch the trace of his departure, but he found nothing.

Suddenly, faint, indistinct words brushed against Liuli’s ears, vanishing before he could discern them. When he thought he had misheard, the whispers returned—a language he could not comprehend, sounding like the wind’s lament or the flow of water. Recalling Nan Luo’s lecture at the Wuzhuang Temple, he realized it was the same: he understood not a single word, yet he felt as though he had grasped a great many truths.

Listening to the natural sounds that seemed to emanate from the mountains and rivers themselves, he slowly drifted into a state of ethereal abstraction. He did not notice that his own movements as he chased Nan Luo were beginning to mirror the master's own.

Nan Luo had no intention of teaching him any specific technique; rather, he was silently reciting the "Huangting Classic" to himself. Liuli’s ears possessed a unique, innate talent, allowing him to hear the silent, profound resonance of the Great Dao. Because he was so focused on studying how Nan Luo moved so quickly, he naturally tuned into the resonance that allowed for such speed.

Heaven and earth were silent; all living things were hushed.

Without realizing it, the day turned to dusk. Vegetation withered, and the bleak, yellowed leaves drifted away on the wind.

Nan Luo seemed utterly indifferent to it all, walking step by step. One step, and he was miles away… another step, and he had covered dozens of miles… one more, and he was a thousand miles away.

Liuli managed to keep up, never falling behind. Nan Luo did not know what conflicts were brewing between the Wu tribe and the Heavenly Court; such struggles were often hidden in the shadows of long-term schemes.

To this day, Nan Luo was uncertain whether the three hundred and sixty-five star gods—himself included—were sealed away to counter the Wu tribe, or for some other purpose. And what of the Dijiang City that had manifested in the world? Given its ability to sever the spiritual veins of the earth, it seemed designed specifically to counter the star gods hidden by the Heavenly Court.

A solitary cliff, straight as a needle piercing the sky, stood between heaven and earth. Its summit was barely large enough for two or three people to stand upon. Nan Luo stood silently atop it, with Liuli—still covered in gray fur but now possessing a newfound spirit—crouched at his feet.

The sky was heavy with dark clouds, and a fierce gale roared, causing Nan Luo’s robe to snap and billow. A violent storm was imminent.

Nan Luo’s black hair danced wildly in the wind. His eyes were narrowed, gazing toward the rolling mountain ranges in the distance.

Those mountains looked like the waves of an angry sea, or a dormant beast, lying in wait between heaven and earth.