Chapter Forty-Nine: Each Step a Flight Amidst Falling Snow

Had Nan Luo known he would encounter this proud, regal woman in pink, he would never have followed Qing Mian into these mountains. Yet in this world, there is no elixir for regret. He could not hope to defeat her, and fleeing seemed pointless, for she had never shown any real intent to harm him. Yet with both the Azure Sword and the Demonic Moon Mirror in her hands, how could he simply walk away?

Thus, when the woman in pink declared that Nan Luo should take charge of this mountain range, he agreed at once, on the condition that she return the Azure Sword and the Demonic Moon Mirror to him. But she only glanced at him coolly, lifted the mirror to gaze at her reflection, then tucked it into her bosom, while the sword hung naturally at her waist.

Nan Luo was overwhelmed by a sudden urge to weep. He tried, in vain, to sense and summon back the sword and the mirror, hoping to make a sudden escape. Though he could feel their presence, he found himself utterly unable to call them back.

He was cut down by a single proud glance from the woman in pink. Before Nan Luo could speak, she stood with her hands clasped behind her back, gazing coldly at the setting sun. “Before me,” she said, “there is only submission, or death.”

Her meaning could not have been clearer: there would be no bargaining. Nan Luo was left with no choice but to reply, “Without my sword and mirror, how am I to protect this land?”

The woman in pink turned her head slightly, her eyes resting upon Nan Luo, and said coolly, “Have your elders never told you that relying on external things will never lead to true mastery? If this is truly the extent of your ability, then should any real trouble arise, let someone else take your life—I may as well find another to take your place.”

Nan Luo sighed inwardly, realizing now that the past five years had indeed been too smooth. Only today did he truly understand what it meant to stand before a master of transcendent power, utterly helpless.

The woman in pink stood there with her chin slightly raised, regarding Nan Luo with an indifferent gaze. Only then did he notice she was about his own height. A gentle breeze stirred her flowing skirts, outlining her graceful silhouette.

A blue sword, a pink gown, jet-black hair coiled high, and eyes cold as frost—in the radiant sunset, she seemed a spirit queen of the mountains, her figure wreathed in ethereal light.

She gazed down at Nan Luo in silence, as if seeing through his helplessness, the corners of her mouth curving in a smile both mocking and ironic.

Nan Luo suddenly realized that the composure he’d always prided himself on could not withstand the force of her smile and gaze. He could only say, “To you, Palace Mistress, these are mere ornaments missing from your palace. But to me, they are as precious as life itself. I must rely on them to protect my clan. If you would return the sword and mirror to me, then whatever you command in the future, I will accomplish it for you…”

Deprived of the Demonic Moon Mirror and the Azure Sword, Nan Luo could only humble himself and plead.

“And what can you do? If you could pluck down the moon or the stars from the sky, I’d return your sword and mirror to you this instant,” the woman in pink replied with a sneer.

Nan Luo was left speechless, his words instantly turned aside. The woman in pink chuckled softly, turned, and soared into the air. She stood poised in the sky, barely moving, her pink skirts billowing as she flew—still, even in flight, she bore the commanding presence of a sovereign surveying all beneath her.

Startled, Nan Luo realized that if she left, he would have no way to find her again. Without a second thought, he gave chase. With a single stride, his figure flashed several hundred meters into the void, his foot stepped upon empty air, a yellow mist swirling beneath him before he vanished again. With each step, a yellow misty footprint was left in the air, quickly scattered by the wind.

Of all his skills, Nan Luo considered his greatest progress over the years to be in this earth-evading technique. The art was inherited from the Celestial Ram Immortal’s innate earth escape, further refined by Kong Xuan’s teachings on the Five Elements. Though he had only begun to grasp the essence of earth among the Five Elements, it had already made his earth escape far more adept, improving both speed and versatility. He had also persisted in reciting the Scripture of the Yellow Court, and his subtle perception of the Dao of Heaven and Earth had deepened greatly over the past five years.

The Scripture of the Yellow Court cultivated an overall comprehension of the Dao, while Kong Xuan’s Five Elements Jade Slip specialized in the elements themselves. Yet it was magical power that formed the foundation of all spells—the deeper one’s power, the greater the might of one’s arts. However, if someone’s insight into the Dao ran deep, or they had a particularly profound mastery of a certain divine art, then even those of greater power might not prevail.

Nan Luo had recited the Scripture of the Yellow Court for many years, and had studied the earth element for several more. Combined with his innate earth escape, he had achieved many marvels. Earlier, when the woman in pink had plucked him out of the void even as he fled, it was not only because her power and cultivation were vastly superior, but also because Nan Luo had been careless. Years of confidence had led him never to consider that anyone could seize him mid-escape.

Stride after stride, each step carried him leagues away. Though he had not yet attained the legendary grace of leaving lotuses blooming in his wake, his art had developed into a style uniquely his own. He had often fantasized about the day he could cross a single step and leave rivers and mountains behind. Now, while he could not quite manage that, he was closer than ever before.

He quickly caught up with the woman in pink. To his slight surprise, she seemed faintly impressed that he could follow. She glanced back at him, her gaze still cold. She made no visible movement, yet suddenly the sky filled with drifting snowflakes. These flakes seemed to appear from nothing, soft as cotton, whirling in the wind, ever-changing and illusory beneath the setting sun. Nan Luo narrowed his eyes; his instincts warned him that these beautiful, ethereal snowflakes were deadly.

In an instant, he turned his body to mist, preparing to flee with his escape art. Yet as soon as he melted into the void, he collided with a snowflake. In a split second, a soul-chilling cold froze him stiff, sending him plummeting to earth at meteoric speed. With a crash, Nan Luo smashed into a mountainside, startling birds and beasts into a cacophony. After a moment, he sat up abruptly, vanished again, and resumed his pursuit of the woman in pink.

The icy cold contained in that snowflake had frozen him in an instant, but had caused no lasting harm to his body. Nan Luo could not tell if that was the true extent of the snowflake’s power, or if she had never intended to take his life.

The fall from the sky had only left him dizzy for a moment. As for the resilience of his body, even he was no longer certain of its limits. Since fusing with that drop of ancestral blood, he had discovered that not only had he gained the divine powers of Heavenly Manifestation and Devouring the World, but his flesh had become extraordinarily tough.

He had never met the great shamans of the Wu clan, whose bodies, forged by their secret arts, could not be harmed by any weapon. Compared to them, Nan Luo’s own resilience still fell short.

He did not know what method the woman in pink had used to suppress the Demonic Moon Mirror and the Azure Sword, but she had not erased his marks upon them. Following the faint thread of connection, he sped through the void and arrived before a great mountain. The summit soared into the clouds, and from halfway up, all was shrouded in snow and ice. Seeing the deep drifts, Nan Luo instantly recalled those soul-freezing snowflakes.

As long as the cold was not as intense as those snowflakes, the climate here was like a gentle breeze to Nan Luo’s current body. When he had reached a certain height, snowflakes began to fall once more. He stopped reflexively, then smiled wryly—these were just ordinary snowflakes.

With another leap into the void, he plunged into the swirling snow. The flakes seemed to fall only near the mountain’s peak; a short distance away, the world changed again.

There, built entirely of ice, stood a palace with three characters etched above its gate: Xuanming Palace. The ice palace was stark in its simplicity, devoid of ornament besides those three words. It stood silent amid the drifting snow, and Nan Luo was seized by a strange, sudden sense of loneliness.

He looked around and spotted the woman in pink standing at one side of the palace. Amid the dancing snow, her gown was like a crimson plum blossom blooming defiantly in the frost.