Chapter Thirty-four: Under the Same Sky

The banners before the Palace of the Undying were not true banners, but rather should be called streamers. Upon them, a phoenix soared above the nine heavens, its form resplendent, its posture graceful, though its eyes regarded all beings with disdain. At this moment, the streamer itself was no longer the focus. All eyes were fixed only upon that vivid, lifelike head—the head of a prince of one of the palaces, a cultivator of many years, yet slain by a boy newly embarked on the path of cultivation.

Nan Luo was no longer there, but the scene of him striding through the void on a bridge of light, reciting a thousand accusations, and finally drawing his sword to behead the Thousand-Headed Prince lingered indelibly in the minds of all the attendants. In that instant, the brilliance of Nan Luo outshone even the five-colored radiance of Kong Xuan.

Of course, it was impossible that Nan Luo truly killed the Thousand-Headed Prince; all those of deep cultivation knew this well. What truly enabled him to do so was Kong Xuan, who, with his five-colored divine light, restrained the Thousand-Headed Prince, thus allowing Nan Luo to deliver the decapitating blow.

Yet Kong Xuan never appeared; all anyone saw was the dazzling, prismatic glow, which inevitably reminded them of his robe, shimmering with five-colored light, and his cold, striking demeanor.

Kong Xuan had ordered Nan Luo to behead the Thousand-Headed Prince and hang his head from the phoenix's flagpole, and Nan Luo agreed without a moment’s hesitation. The process and their exchange were clearer to Fairy Zhi Lan than to any other. She knew that the two of them had never conspired over how to carry out the beheading. In fact, they had not even discussed how Nan Luo would sever the Thousand-Headed Prince’s head.

The Thousand-Headed Prince had suddenly appeared in the sky, ensnared by Kong Xuan, and Nan Luo had recited the Prince’s crimes. This was nothing more than a spontaneous act between the two, yet their coordination was flawless. What astonished Fairy Zhi Lan most was that, just as the bridge of light appeared beneath Nan Luo’s feet, she saw a fleeting trace of contemplation on his face, revealing that they had not planned this at all.

Yet in the end, Nan Luo stepped nimbly onto the bridge of light and swung his sword to behead the Prince. Such reaction, tacit understanding, and bearing left Fairy Zhi Lan’s heart pounding with awe.

Within the Peacock Hall, Kong Xuan sat high upon his throne, his robe aglow with rippling colors. Before him stood Nan Luo, tall and straight, dressed in blue with a sword in a green scabbard at his waist. Fairy Zhi Lan stood opposite Nan Luo, exuding elegance and gentle grace.

Between the three, the Thousand-Headed Prince glared angrily at Kong Xuan, occasionally shooting sharp, murderous looks at Nan Luo. Kong Xuan was never harsh with his subordinates, so those attendants with no pressing business gathered at a respectful distance to watch.

“Kong Xuan, what skill is this? Let us fight again!” the Thousand-Headed Prince shouted, evidently unwilling to concede. Though he was now bound by Kong Xuan and unable to muster a shred of power, his loud words belied his inward shock. His greatest strength lay in devouring and corrosion, yet now both his divine sense and his inner core, cultivated for centuries, were enveloped in a cloud of five-colored mist, as if sealed within a miniature world.

“Kong Xuan, I address you as a senior out of respect, allowing you to speak. Otherwise, I would have sealed you beneath the Palace of the Undying by now. It is laughable that you utter such words. Tell me, then, what would you call true skill, and why should I condescend to fight you again?” Kong Xuan replied serenely, his tone gentle, yet his words sharp as blades.

“You lured me out, then ambushed me—how can that be considered true skill? Moreover, you were two against one. Had he not struck at the last moment, my Soul-Devouring Grand Method might not have lost to your innate Five Elements Dao; the outcome was far from certain!” the Thousand-Headed Prince replied harshly, refusing to yield.

Kong Xuan merely smiled and said nothing.

Nan Luo stepped forward, bowing before the Thousand-Headed Prince. “Nan Luo pays his respects to Your Highness, the Thousand-Headed Prince.”

Kong Xuan’s dismissive smile was as salt in the Prince’s wounds, and Nan Luo’s respectful bow only deepened the humiliation. The Prince’s eyes flared with dead gray light; he wished nothing more than to tear Nan Luo’s soul from his body and burn it for a hundred years.

“If not for his final strike, I might not have lost to Kong Xuan,” the Prince seethed within.

“Your Highness has fought countless life-and-death battles over many years. How is it you now decry an ambush? It is laughable. I wonder how you have survived so long,” Nan Luo said leisurely. “You claim we fought two against one, but look at my cultivation. What power do I possess?”

Since grasping the art of Concealing Breath and Spirit, Nan Luo used it constantly, until it became second nature—growing ever more profound with use.

He released his aura, and the Thousand-Headed Prince exclaimed, “Impossible! How can you not have even reached the Core-Forming stage? If that were so, you could never walk through the air.”

“My cultivation is different; there is no Core-Forming stage for me. But it is equivalent to what you describe. As for walking in the air, that is only because I have a deeper understanding of the Earth Element. For me, traversing the bridge of earth is no great feat.”

Nan Luo spoke lightly, as if these things were nothing, but to others, his words were astonishing. The Wu tribe cultivated the body; the demon tribe cultivated qi. Demons began by refining qi, then forming a core, then transforming their shape. The transformation consumed all the qi accumulated over years, so after taking human form, one had to start the process anew.

Thus, many who reached the Core-Forming stage chose to remain in beast form, continuing their cultivation.

The Thousand-Headed Prince was a primordial being, born with ten heads—ten lives—and a natural soul-devouring power. Yet now, to be beheaded by one who had only just set foot on the path of cultivation, how could he not be consumed with hatred? At this moment, his loathing for Nan Luo exceeded even that for Kong Xuan.

After Nan Luo finished speaking, Kong Xuan lost interest in the Prince; these matters no longer concerned him. With a flick of his sleeve, a talisman appeared in his hand. Though its aura was not strong, it seemed to resonate with the Palace of the Undying, as if they were one.

“Nan Luo, this talisman is not the same as your phoenix talisman, but the method is identical. I have already taught you the incantation. Watch closely as I use it now,” Kong Xuan said, holding the crimson-glowing talisman aloft.

Kong Xuan intoned the chant, tracing symbols in the air above the talisman. At last, with a sharp command, Nan Luo felt the entire palace tremble. In the next moment, Kong Xuan pointed into the void; behind the Thousand-Headed Prince, a black hole appeared silently and swallowed him whole.

Others might not have understood what they saw, finding it only deeply mysterious, but Nan Luo, having learned from Kong Xuan how to use the phoenix talisman, knew it was simply a matter of merging one’s aura with the talisman, thereby connecting with the Palace of the Undying, and thus gaining command over it.

Though called a palace, over the years it had merged with Phoenix Mountain, forming a paradise. In this realm, the phoenix was invincible. It was akin to the Celestial Master in the Palace of Supreme Polarity, who could, with a mere thought, suppress even the ancestral sorcerer Zhu Rong without effort.

The Thousand-Headed Prince was not slain, but simply sealed beneath the Palace of the Undying by Kong Xuan. Witnessing this, Nan Luo could not help but wonder: Was Kong Xuan once sealed beneath the palace in just such a manner? Was the Phoenix Palace Master truly the most profound wielder of the Dao and divine arts in the world? The thought flashed through Nan Luo’s mind and was gone—such matters were far beyond his reach and not worth pondering. He only hoped that one day he might have a humble temple or palace, take on two or three disciples, and pass the days idly, watching the clouds drift across the sky.

Fairy Zhi Lan was equally surprised to discover that Nan Luo was only at the stage of refining essence into qi. Sword attendant boys were not ordinary boys. With the grand gathering to be held in three months, sword attendants, though not important figures, still had many duties—especially standing in for their master when required.

Had Kong Xuan possessed other disciples of high cultivation, matters could be delegated, but he had only Nan Luo. In the event of any mishap, Kong Xuan could not always act personally.

Fairy Zhi Lan, now aware of Nan Luo’s level, could not help but worry. She knew well that the gathering was not only for lectures and sermons but also, crucially, to resolve conflicts. She could not recall how many years it had been since the Phoenix Palace Master had acted personally, but ever since, every time a conflict arose at the gathering, it inevitably ended in a contest of magical arts and divine abilities.

“It seems your cultivation method is extraordinary indeed, to be able to hide your aura so thoroughly that even the Thousand-Headed Prince was deceived. I heard you were gravely injured ten years ago and sent by Prince Kong Xuan for healing. Did you perhaps take a master during that time?” Fairy Zhi Lan asked, her gaze gentle as spring wind through willows, her tone natural and unintrusive.

“Yes, I was sent to the Palace of Supreme Polarity on Kunlun Mountain, where I was fortunate enough to be healed by my master. Sadly, I lacked the talent to be formally accepted as a disciple, but out of kindness, my master took me on as a registered disciple and taught me some methods. I am most grateful,” Nan Luo replied with a smile, unconcerned by questions about his origins. Such things were no secret.

His art of Concealing Breath and Spirit was not only the result of his own insight and effort, but also owed much to the Daoist tradition, which emphasizes naturalness. This complemented the art perfectly.

This was Nan Luo’s first visit to the Vermilion Bird Hall. Along the way, everyone he met greeted him with respect or stepped aside, which left him momentarily unaccustomed. But with his current state of mind, such things were as a breeze rippling over a tranquil lake.

The Palace of the Undying was grand and magnificent, with pavilions, towers, carved beams, and painted rafters—beauty beyond compare.

Though the Vermilion Bird Hall was externally much like the Peacock Hall, its interior was utterly different; it was plainly the residence of a woman, with gentle pink hues and elegant furnishings throughout.

Nan Luo did not meet the Vermilion Bird Princess; her maid received him. Before Nan Luo could speak, she informed him that the princess would arrange the delivery of invitations to the Qilin Cliff and that Prince Kong Xuan need not worry. This was precisely Nan Luo’s purpose in coming; not one for idle talk, he took his leave as soon as he received the reply.

“Nineteen…”

Nan Luo started and turned sharply toward the voice.

He saw a servant dressed in blue standing by a flowerbed, holding a small mud-caked trowel.

“Eighteen?” Nan Luo asked uncertainly.

“Yes!” The servant nodded with a simple, honest smile, looking very pleased.

This was, in fact, Eighteen, who had once been imprisoned with Nan Luo in the dungeon beneath Blue Python Cliff. Ten years ago, Nan Luo had wanted to inquire about the seven immortals who often brought spirit fruit to the Peacock Hall, but before he had the chance, he himself had been gravely wounded and near death.

The two had never spoken a word in those days, yet now Nan Luo felt a sense of kinship.

Nan Luo smiled. “My name is Nan Luo.”

“My name is Cang Feng. I know your name is Nan Luo—I saw you yesterday,” he replied cheerfully.

“Cang Feng is a name that doesn’t quite suit you,” Nan Luo laughed.

“I know—my family always said it didn’t fit, that I’m not the kind to hide my light. You’re something else, though. Everyone’s talking about you! I told them I knew you, but they didn’t believe me.” Cang Feng pointed at several other servants watching from a distance, grinning.

Nan Luo smiled. “How are you doing here?”

“I’m alright. Much better than in that dungeon,” Cang Feng replied.

Nan Luo smiled again, then asked, “Do I know what happened to the others? Where are they now?”

“They’re all dead.”

“How did they die?”

“They weren’t chosen, so they were killed.”

Nan Luo had not expected such an answer. If they were not chosen, must they be killed? Why not simply set them free? Why kill them?

He felt a surge of unrest. He thought he had come to terms with everything, but these things still brought him pain that he could not quite name.

“Do you want to go back?” Nan Luo asked suddenly.

“Back to the tribe? Who wouldn’t?” Cang Feng replied softly.

Above, the clouds drifted lazily through the sky, just as they had above their tribe. Yet why, beneath the same sky, did the fates of men differ so greatly?