Chapter Nineteen: Snow Blankets the Sky

Although his life in the Peacock Hall was comfortable and Kong Xuan treated him with great kindness, Nan Luo still harbored a sense of rejection deep within his heart. It all began with the Immortal Palace of Phoenix Mountain’s decision to select attendants, leading the various local lords beneath to train and send up qualified candidates. Yet, the palace accepted only humans, which resulted in Nan Luo’s capture and the deaths of many others like him.

When he was imprisoned in the Cangmang Cliff’s cage, Nan Luo secretly vowed to himself that if he ever had the fortune to master the art of flight, he would seek vengeance on those responsible. Never before had he hated anyone so fiercely as then; but now, that hatred seemed to have faded somewhat. Perhaps it was because he had ultimately survived—but still, a deep aversion toward Cangmang Cliff remained in his heart, as well as a strong repulsion toward the Immortal Palace atop Phoenix Mountain...

Even though Kong Xuan treated him well, teaching him the secrets of the Way and never making him feel uncomfortable, Nan Luo still could not rid himself of the desire to leave.

While lying in bed, Nan Luo had wondered: when His Highness, Crown Prince Kong Xuan, saw him beaten and on the verge of death, how did he react? Would he confront the Golden Roc Crown Prince?

Most likely not. They were both princes of the Immortal Palace—how could they come to blows over a mere human boy? Yet in his heart, Nan Luo wished Kong Xuan would stand up for him. He often entertained this hope, only to dismiss it quickly himself.

Kong Xuan’s true form was that of a peacock—the first of its kind in heaven and earth. The Golden Roc’s true form was the first golden-winged roc. No one knew for certain if they were children of the Phoenix; people only guessed as much based on their princely titles. The same was true of the Vermilion Bird.

Nan Luo did not dwell on these mysteries—among the demon clans, such chaos was common. It was not like among humans, where children always resembled their parents; here, one might give birth to a wolf or a pig.

Three days was neither a long nor a short time. After Jin Jiao and Yin Jiao finished sweeping the snow, Nan Luo sat before the Taiji Palace, gazing at the snowbound mountains—sometimes his eyes would wander far, sometimes near. If one looked closely, one would notice that his gaze lacked any true focus...

Not far off, a single plum blossom bloomed defiantly upon the cliff wall. Its fragrance was imperceptible, its beauty unshowy, yet it outshone all other flowers.

Inside the Taiji Palace, Jin Jiao and Yin Jiao recited scriptures in a tongue Nan Luo could not understand. Yet somehow, his spirit resonated with those incantations—illusive, as if in a dream, his soul seemed to dance and drift, forgetting time, forgetting himself.

He found the feeling, in that moment, profoundly pleasant—quiet, his heart empty of all burdens, as if all the world’s worries and sorrows had faded away.

Suddenly awakened, Nan Luo nearly thought he had fallen asleep. But as he pondered, he could still recall the echoes of Jin Jiao and Yin Jiao’s chanting in his mind.

“How mysterious...” Nan Luo mused.

Snow draped a thousand mountains—his solitary figure with nowhere to go.

Thus did Nan Luo sit, not returning inside, but lingering on the steps outside the palace, gazing at the world before him, looking eastward beyond the endless snowy peaks. He did not know which direction would lead him home, to his tribe. Uncertain, he could only look that way, for when he left his tribe, he remembered only flying toward the setting sun.

In that moment, Nan Luo was seized by a sense of loneliness, as if the world had forgotten him.

He wished to study the Way from the master of the Taiji Palace, to gain powers and return to his tribe—becoming a priest, protecting his people...

While in the Peacock Hall, Kong Xuan had given him the basics of the Five Elements, though Kong Xuan called them fundamentals, Nan Luo knew they were the Great Dao of the Five Elements. Anyone who reached a certain realm longed to comprehend the Great Dao. They said there were three thousand paths to the Way; mastering any one of them would grant powers that could shake heaven and earth. But to Nan Luo, those ways were a distant mirage—perhaps by the time he understood, his lifespan would be spent.

Though the Five Elements Dao deepened his understanding of earth escape techniques, it offered little practical help in his cultivation. For Nan Luo, the Five Elements Dao was a mirage—a castle in the air. What he needed were actual steps, real techniques for cultivation. He was not gifted enough to simply comprehend a suitable method from Kong Xuan’s jade slips.

Two days remained—then he must return to the Peacock Hall of the Immortal Palace atop Phoenix Mountain. Nan Luo’s mood was as desolate as a snowy night.

He did not feel cold; except for a brief chill when he first came out, he always felt a lingering warmth, as if it flowed from his heart. Yet when he tried to focus on it, it slipped away.

Upon awakening, everything seemed well—body and spirit both calm—but he could no longer practice his arts. The simple methods taught by the priest, those from Cangmang Cliff, none worked; it was as if everything was returned, or forgotten.

He felt as if his body were no longer his own, unfamiliar and strange. More precisely, something peculiar had been added... Even without channeling power, his strength was undiminished; without circulating energy, he did not feel the cold at all. His senses were keener—he could hear snowflakes falling far away and see white mists rising from the distant mountains.

Listening to Jin Jiao and Yin Jiao chant at dawn was the greatest pleasure of Nan Luo’s day. The rest of the time he spent gazing at the distant mountains, letting his mind wander, calm yet tinged with loneliness.

Suddenly Nan Luo thought, if one day he could master his craft, then return to his tribe and build a Taoist temple behind Yangping Mountain, take on two or three young disciples, and spend his days watching the world change in peace and leisure—what a joyful life that would be.

He found himself smiling wryly at the thought—wasn’t this just daydreaming? He had not yet even set foot on the true path of cultivation, yet he was already picturing his life after attaining great power...

The rising sun blazed brilliantly.

In that first instant, the Taiji Palace was bathed in radiant light. Nan Luo stood at the palace doors, watching the eastern sky painted with colored clouds by the dawn. He felt as if Kong Xuan resided within that radiance, indistinguishable from the sunlight in his multicolored robes.

Nan Luo did not bid farewell to the master of the Taiji Palace—not because he was unwilling, but because Master Tongxuan was still refining elixirs, and Jin Jiao and Yin Jiao paid him no heed. Moreover, when Master Tongxuan had said, “Return in a hundred days and I will send you away,” they had all been present.

Sometimes, the setting sun was beautiful too—a beauty tinged with resignation.

It was much like Nan Luo’s feelings now; time slipped by, and he never saw Kong Xuan again. Day after day, he waited, but nothing changed. Inexplicably disappointed, his heart mixed with sorrow. Each day he waited in front of the Taiji Palace for Kong Xuan, but only the unchanging light appeared—never that figure clad in rainbow hues. At last, one day, the sky turned gray and heavy, and soon snow began to fall, swirling everywhere.

Snowflakes drifted from the sky, like paper money tossed in the wind, bringing with them a chill that pierced the soul.

Jin Jiao and Yin Jiao were once more summoned by their master to tend the fire. Nan Luo wanted to follow, but since he was waiting for Kong Xuan, he stayed behind. Now, with the sudden snowfall, Nan Luo felt certain Kong Xuan would not come—as if the snow itself had blocked Kong Xuan’s path to him...

Nan Luo could not say how he felt—he should have been happy, for now he would not have to return to the Immortal Palace where he had nearly lost his life. Yet there was no joy in his heart. Perhaps he ought to feel lost, like a kitten forgotten by its master, alone in a strange corner, gazing toward home.

Back inside the Taiji Palace, with nothing else to do, Nan Luo wandered the halls. Though called the Taiji Palace, it was laid out like a Taoist temple—simple and natural, infused with the essence of the Way.

He walked through every corner, touching nothing. The sense of beauty he’d felt upon first waking was gone; now he felt like a guest who had not even met his host.

Eventually, he came before the elixir chamber, where he guessed Master Tongxuan and the two boys must be. But he did not dare push the door open, so he sat outside, waiting for either Jin Jiao or Yin Jiao to emerge—then he would ask if he might enter to offer thanks for saving his life. If Master Tongxuan was busy, he would be content just to sit nearby and watch.

Nan Luo sat cross-legged by the door, wondering what it was like inside. Then he remembered Yang Li the Great Immortal—was he still alive? He had taught him the earth escape technique, but was that to repay some kindness? Nan Luo did not feel he owed the Great Immortal much.

He closed his eyes, leaning against the green wall. Memories of his childhood among the Yangping clan, his sister, the priests, and all his uncles and elders came flooding back. With this thought, he sat up straight and closed his eyes—he needed to practice, to return to the tribe where he grew up.

During the three months he had lain in bed, Nan Luo had never stopped examining his own body, always trying to merge his mind with himself as before. In the past, whenever he calmed his thoughts, an image akin to a dantian would appear in his mind, and he could clearly sense the flow of spiritual energy. But now, though he could feel his body brimming with power, he could not draw upon it at all. When he stilled his heart, the image of the dantian was gone.

He stilled his mind, relaxed his body, let go of desire and sorrow, empty of all emotion.