Chapter Forty-One: The Yangping Clan Beneath Yangping Mountain

The snow and wind were relentless, the green mountains stood tall, and the world changed with the passage of time.

Five years later.

Yangping Mountain did not possess the sky-piercing majesty of Mount Buzhou, nor the grand and imposing presence of Kunlun Mountain. Compared to Phoenix Mountain, it was not even close. Yet, to the people of the Yangping clan, it was the highest and largest mountain in the world. Otherwise, why would the legend persist that Yangping Mountain reached all the way to the sun?

Nan Luo had grown up in the Yangping clan, and naturally, he too once believed that Yangping Mountain was the tallest and grandest in all the land. Even if it was not the highest, surely it was among the greatest. Standing at the foot of Yangping Mountain, gazing upward, the mist nestled mid-slope and the towering trees reaching to the sky seemed to help Nan Luo forget all that had happened since he was taken away. He forgot that he had been gone from this place for nearly twenty years...

He had been inexplicably seized by Ying San and imprisoned in a cage. He had ascended Phoenix Mountain, entered the Palace of Undying, served as an attendant, and survived countless dangers. He had waited six long years in the Taiji Palace of Kunlun Mountain, hoping only to be accepted as a disciple and learn the celestial arts. When, at last, before the Peacock Hall, Kong Xuan told him he could return home, a dreamlike sense of unreality shattered the tranquil waters of his soul.

But just as he departed, riding on the back of a golden-winged roc, full of excitement, he was intercepted by the true Golden Roc. The Wind Spirit Golden Feather, after all, had been plucked from the roc itself, and as soon as Nan Luo left Phoenix Mountain, it sensed his presence. Though he had previously visited the Heavenly Pool Dragon Palace without incident, this time, barely had he left the Palace of Undying before the roc appeared—as if it had been waiting for this very moment. Like a golden cloud, it blotted out the sky and sun, its talons gleaming with dazzling light, as if with a single swipe it could snatch up an entire mountain.

This was the true might of the Golden-winged Roc, famed as the fastest creature in all creation. When it appeared, Nan Luo, with his celestial sight, saw only a golden cloud drifting on the horizon, but before he could make it out clearly, it was already overhead.

He felt darkness fall before his eyes, as if the heavens themselves had been covered. Instantly, he escaped, not daring to glance upward. It was a narrow escape; in that instant, he seemed to smell the scent of blood on those golden talons. Borrowing the earth’s qi, he dove headlong into the ground. The golden-winged roc he had been riding turned instantly into a single golden feather that drifted into the hand of the true roc...

Having failed to kill Nan Luo with that swipe, the roc merely cast a cold glance at the spot in the ground where Nan Luo had vanished, then soared heavenward, once again transforming into a golden-winged bird that vanished into the highest clouds in an instant.

Five years—five years searching this vast land, and finally Nan Luo found this humble Yangping Mountain. In those five years, he had wandered through countless mountains, met innumerable people, faced endless dangers. Yet when he confirmed that he had truly returned to the foot of Yangping Mountain, all that had passed seemed like running water; only his heart, honed by the years, had grown quieter and rounder, polished by time.

To Nan Luo now, Yangping Mountain was certainly not a high mountain, but to the people of the Yangping clan below, it was still the tallest peak in these parts. From afar, Nan Luo gazed at the village nestled against the mountainside.

The village gate was taller, grander, sturdier than before. Through the massive timber gate, many people could be seen moving about inside. Children leapt and played, or helped the adults with whatever small tasks they could manage. The elders mostly sat peacefully in the warm sun, serene and content.

This was the Yangping clan at the foot of Yangping Mountain.

The robe Nan Luo wore had been given to him during his five-year journey, when he passed through a place called Wuzhuang Monastery and had sat discussing the Dao with the people there. One of them had gifted him the robe, saying it was called the "Heaven-Hiding, Moon-Reflecting, Wind-Bathing Robe." The name was fanciful, but the robe was most useful: it could ward off water and fire, and was immune to mundane spells.

A three-foot-long sword in a blue scabbard hung at his waist, complementing the blue Daoist robe he wore... His jet-black hair was bound at the back by a slender golden vine, upon which a few golden leaves glimmered beneath the dark locks.

He walked quietly toward the village. Though his face was calm, anyone who saw him could not miss the faint smile at the corner of his lips. His blue-clad silhouette slowly melded into the rugged village life.

Looking around, he saw not a single familiar face. Occasionally, a child chasing and playing would accidentally bump into him, but they would quickly retreat and look up at him with curiosity. Strangers were rare here; for dozens of miles around, there was only the Yangping clan. As Nan Luo entered, his clothing and bearing so different from the others, everyone stopped what they were doing to watch him. There was no hostility in their eyes, but they were filled with guarded caution...

It was the middle of the morning, when the men were all out hunting or working, leaving only women, elders, and children behind. Thus, though they all saw Nan Luo, no one dared approach to question him.

Nan Luo recalled that before he left, the priest had decreed that there must always be people left behind to guard the tribe, rotating every month. He wanted to speak, to tell them he was the priest’s heir who had been taken twenty years ago, but seeing all these unfamiliar faces, he kept silent. He nodded politely and smiled, then headed toward the house he remembered as his own.

Not long after he disappeared into the maze of houses, an old man sitting in the sun beneath an eave turned his head from the direction Nan Luo had vanished and, suddenly excited, exclaimed, "That’s Nan Luo, that child! How has he come back—he’s alive, he’s come back alive..."

The houses in the village were all wooden. They didn’t last many years, but wood could always be cut from the mountain, so it was convenient enough... Compared to before Nan Luo left, the houses were much larger and more numerous. The paths he remembered were already muddled. After winding through several turns, he reached the spot at the back of the village that had once been his family’s home—the very place where his parents had lived, and where he and his sister had stayed before he was taken away.

It hadn’t been on the edge of the village then, but over the years, as the tribe built new houses and the population grew, the village had expanded outward...

The old wooden house was a heap of rotting timber, like an old man on the brink of death, exuding decay even in the sunlight. Weeds grew wild inside and out; the neighbors who once lived nearby had all moved away. Only this ruined house remained in lonely isolation, as if forgotten by heaven and earth.

Nan Luo stood before the ruined hut, man and house beneath the sun, their shadows merging as one upon the ground.

His sister—surely she must be married by now! He was not worried that she might have starved; unless the tribe had migrated or met with disaster, she would not have died of hunger. Back then, when he and his sister were young, the tribe had provided for them...

Suddenly, Nan Luo heard light footsteps. Turning, he saw a little girl standing a dozen meters away, watching him. She looked to be about seven or eight years old, her hair somewhat dry and thin, hanging loose. She wore a plain linen dress made by the clan, a bit loose and making her seem slight and frail.

Nan Luo smiled at her. The girl stood in a patch of shadow, watching him. When he looked over, she did not shy away. With his celestial sight, Nan Luo could see the pure clarity in her eyes.

He beckoned, and to his surprise, the girl actually came over, showing no fear of this stranger.

She stood before Nan Luo, head tipped back, eyes wide, pure and bright...

Nan Luo smiled as he bent down and asked, "Little girl, do you know where the people who used to live here have moved to?"

Her dark eyes blinked as she looked at him, as if trying to see right through him. Nan Luo smiled and repeated his question.

"I know who you are!" she replied, her voice crisp as a bell. She hadn’t answered his question, but suddenly blurted this out, surprising Nan Luo.

He couldn’t help but laugh and asked, "Oh? Then tell me, who am I?"

"You’re my uncle," she said with a clear, bright voice, her eyes wide and shining, fixed on Nan Luo.

Hearing this, Nan Luo studied her face carefully—delicate brows, a slightly thin face, hair a little dry. Indeed, she faintly resembled his sister as a child.

"Heh, then why do you think I’m your uncle? You’ve never met me," he said, reaching out to pat her head. Her hair felt like straw beneath his fingers. When his hand fell to her shoulder, Nan Luo frowned—she was so thin. No wonder her clothes looked so baggy, she was simply too slight.

The girl made no attempt to avoid his hand, but looked into his eyes and said, "You tell me first if I’m right, then I’ll tell you."

Nan Luo couldn’t help but laugh and said, "If you don’t tell me, how will I know whether you’ve mistaken me for someone else? I don’t even know if I’m really your uncle!"

The girl scratched her head, tilted it in thought, then said, "I saw you when you came into the village. You didn’t go anywhere else, just came straight here, as if you knew our tribe well. This is where my mother used to live. No one comes here except for me and my mother. And when you arrived, you acted very strange. I think—you must be my uncle Nan Luo, aren’t you?"

Nan Luo listened to her reasoning, amazed that such words could come from one so young.

"Am I right?" she asked eagerly, her eyes shining with her desire to know, her manner a little nervous and endearing. Nan Luo couldn’t help but pinch her thin cheek and laugh, "You’re right."