Chapter Forty-Four: Commanding the Winds and Summoning the Rain

A joint performance—could it be a contest of magical abilities? Was he trying to gauge my strength? If not, I truly had no remarkable spells to demonstrate; should I unleash the Divine Manifestation of Heaven and Earth, it would surely terrify the clan. Summoning a bolt of heavenly lightning was out of the question as well. With these thoughts swirling within him, Nanlu spoke aloud, "I have no suitable spells to display. I am content to watch your demonstration, fellow Daoist."

Master Yuanji, upon hearing Nanlu's words, assumed he genuinely lacked any formidable techniques. Though the world abounded with those possessing vast supernatural powers, few among humanity succeeded in mastering them through apprenticeship. Yuanji himself, if not for a stroke of fate that led him into the Immortal Gates, would likely have wasted his years in obscurity.

He mused inwardly that even if Nanlu had learned a few rudimentary spells, he’d have no idea of their true might. Very well, let him witness the authentic arts of the immortals. In a clear voice, he proclaimed, "I possess a technique called the Art of Summoning Wind and Rain, capable of altering heaven and earth and reversing yin and yang—a power to benefit all living beings."

It was not strange that he could not discern Nanlu's cultivation; to recognize another's depth at a glance required experience and a keen sense for the aura they emanated. Yet, those trained in unique supernatural abilities could sometimes perceive such things—as with Nanlu's Heavenly Sight, which enabled him to see even the nascent spirit embryo born from Yuanji's golden core.

Nanlu was startled by the claim. The Art of Summoning Wind and Rain was a renowned technique, one he himself had pondered, though he could only conjure a small cloud and bring about a gentle shower, with no real power to speak of. Hearing Yuanji now, Nanlu realized one could never judge the potency of another’s abilities merely by their magical strength.

This art was not simply about wind and rain—the wind summoned came from beyond the nine heavens; a single brush could scatter souls. The rain was transformed from weak water, corrosive to flesh and bone; even the strongest supernatural powers might not escape its doom. It was indeed a formidable technique, and even those of a higher cultivation might be forced to retreat before such power.

Master Yuanji was clad in a robe adorned with yin-yang patterns and golden script at the cuffs, clearly no ordinary garment. The whisk in his hand glowed with divine light, also an exceptional artifact. With a flourish, he waved the whisk through the air, and mysterious symbols emerged, profound and inscrutable, vanishing instantly into the void. A majestic, enigmatic chant of the Great Dao echoed in Nanlu's ears.

Others would only see Yuanji’s lips trembling, unable to hear the silent incantation. But Nanlu, since acquiring the "Yellow Court" scripture, recited it daily without fail. Though he could not yet manifest words into reality, he could hear others recite the Great Dao incantations. To his surprise, Nanlu understood every syllable Yuanji uttered; he had not expected such a combination to form a spell of immense power. Eyes narrowed, Nanlu listened intently to the profound melody of the Dao.

As the incantation continued, a mass of dark clouds appeared in the sky, so black they seemed to contain endless demons and spirits, as if risen from the underworld.

All the Yangping clan lifted their heads to watch. The once bright day turned instantly to night. The incantation abruptly ceased, and Master Yuanji thundered, "What demon dares disturb my ritual grounds!"

His shout exploded through the void like thunder, jolting everyone’s hearts.

The clan, upon hearing Yuanji's words, understood that the dark clouds were not his doing. Panic spread as they gazed at the apocalyptic clouds pressing down from above; someone cried out, and all rushed toward their homes.

When faced with danger, the first instinct is always to seek shelter. The crowd seemed to forget that Yuanji possessed magical powers and simply wanted to flee into their houses. Yet, as soon as they began to run, the clouds engulfed the entire settlement. Only the space around the altar remained untouched by the ink-black clouds, forcing everyone to retreat back under its protection. No one dared step into the endless darkness, nor let even a trace of the cloud touch them.

Nanlu stood firm, holding Luoshui in one hand and Hongguo in the other, eyes fixed on the ominous clouds above.

"Who is this wandering Daoist, daring to hold a ritual on my land and speak so boldly? Let me see what you’re truly capable of," a voice boomed from within the black cloud, shaking the void.

As the words fell, a massive, dark green claw emerged from the clouds. Its movement was not swift, but its imposing aura was overwhelming, instilling a sense of inescapable fate. Resistance seemed futile, and even the thought of defiance faded.

The clansfolk stared in shock, frozen by terror, unable to move a muscle, as if bound by an unseen force.

Yuanji's face turned ashen. He had not expected that, upon leaving his sect and finding what seemed a suitable place to establish a school, the territorial customs of the land would be even stricter than those at sea. His mere intention to claim a mountain and recruit disciples had provoked the local demon lord, who now attacked with deadly resolve.

"Humph, do not think I fear you. Rule your mountain as you please, but since we’ve reached this point, I’ll show you the arts I’ve honed under my master for over a century are not mere playthings." Yuanji's aura blazed forth, and with a sweep of his whisk, the void rippled like water. The dark giant claw, upon encountering the ripples, rocked gently like a small boat, yet the waves could not halt its downward charge.

Yuanji’s expression changed. Forming a sword with two fingers, he executed a rapid set of mystical steps. Though seemingly slow, the steps were actually swift, producing phantom images around him and exuding an air of calm confidence. As the giant claw neared overhead, Yuanji pointed his sword toward the clouds and uttered a sharp command.

A streak of violet lightning tore through the dense clouds, like a blade of purple, wielding the force of heaven and earth, piercing the clouds in an unstoppable surge. The black clouds split open, revealing the monstrous head within—green-faced, tusked, fierce and savage. Its massive neck and body remained shrouded, indistinct.

The claw crackled with electric energy and swiftly withdrew.

The sound of heavenly thunder finally reached them, accompanied by the beast’s agonized howl from within the cloud. Yet the creature seemed far from defeated. The clouds churned, their power growing, pressing down like a furious tidal wave.

Nanlu recalled seeing this violet lightning before, on the road to Yuxu Palace, wielded by the man who resembled the prisoner sixteen. It was just as dazzling and carried the might to obliterate all in its path.

At that moment, Yuanji stomped the ground and became a streak of golden light, rushing into the black clouds. The whisk in his hand burst into radiant white light as he entered.

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