Chapter Five: Master Yangli, the Great Immortal

The lonely cliff quivered, the sky and earth changed color as sinister winds raged. The giant eagle dove again and again at the massive serpent, circling and swooping, but each assault ended in vain. Their battle churned the very fabric of the world, drawing the elemental energies of heaven and earth into a wild vortex centered around their struggle. The clouds thickened, black and heavy, with flashes of lightning flickering within.

Yet, to everyone’s surprise, the palace atop the cliff—so near the chaos—remained utterly untouched. A pale, clear radiance shielded it; even the cage there was unharmed, and those within suffered not the least injury.

Nanluo could scarcely imagine such gigantic eagles and serpents could exist. He thought of the uncles in his tribe who captured snakes and hunted eagles—if they were to witness this scene, their jaws would surely drop in terror and awe.

At that moment, Nanluo lay submerged in a deep, icy pool. The water was bone-chilling, rivaling the snowbound nights in his former prison. Yet, to him, this was no longer a great hardship. With a gentle flow of energy, his body began to float, and he sensed that the cold pool was rich with spiritual essence. Nanluo was certain that, within ten days at most, his wounds would heal completely. Gazing at the broken branches above, the towering trees encircling the pool, he felt a surge of joy—even though he could not yet move, simply being free from that cage was enough to make him content to lie here for a year.

"At last, I’ve left that place behind. To live is to have hope," Nanluo thought with relief.

As for the battle between Eagle Nine and the giant serpent, Nanluo found himself hoping for Eagle Nine’s victory. Though Eagle Nine had struck him and carved two shameful characters into his forehead, those matters seemed trivial now—no longer unforgettable pains. The elation of escape was enough to wash away all else.

"If I return to the tribe, everyone will be astounded!" Floating in the frigid pool, gathering energy to speed his recovery, Nanluo’s heart brimmed with happiness.

He thought of the high priest. The priest’s cultivation method had been passed down by a traveler, said to be merely an initiation technique—one could seek the teacher on Mount Shouyang upon sensing the world’s spiritual energy. The priest only knew the mountain lay west of the tribe, but he had spent a lifetime cultivating without ever sensing spiritual energy.

Yet Nanluo, in the moment of his breakthrough, realized he had surpassed the high priest’s lifelong attainment. The sensation matched the priest’s descriptions exactly: he could perceive his own dantian, misty clouds of energy swirling within, every pore as if breathing, attuned to the spiritual essence in the air… Was this not his present state?

Nanluo smiled to himself, confident that he would one day become the most powerful priest of his tribe.

The mountain’s tranquility was profound, yet after soaking for a day in this scant ten-square-meter pool, Nanluo heard not a single bird’s call. When he realized this, he also noticed that no animal had appeared all day. After two days, he resigned himself to this reality—until, on the third day, a goat appeared. A very peculiar goat.

In this eerily silent forest, where even birds did not sing, the sudden appearance of a yellow goat by the cold pool astounded Nanluo. Had the goat merely drunk and left, it would have been nothing. But instead, it began to circle the small pool, its eyes beneath the long yellow hair scrutinizing Nanluo with an unnervingly intelligent gaze…

A shiver ran down Nanluo’s spine. Wherever the goat moved, his eyes followed. Goats were harmless enough, but for one to suddenly appear in the depths of the wild forest—and with such humanlike eyes—how could anyone feel safe?

Despite his unease, Nanluo was grateful it was not one of the white wolves from his tribe’s mountain. Most fortunate of all, the pool’s spiritual energy was so abundant that his wounds were nearly healed—another day and he would be fully mobile.

Though he could not yet move, Nanluo could speak. Having been observed for so long by this goat, the initial fear faded into curiosity. Sensing no immediate threat, Nanluo decided to try and startle the creature.

He let out a tiger’s roar—not quite the majestic king of beasts, but convincing enough.

To his astonishment, the goat trembled as if startled, then vanished in a swirl of yellow mist. The fog was faint; had Nanluo’s eyesight not improved recently, he would have missed it entirely.

Before he had recovered from his shock, a streak of yellow flashed on the other side of the pool—the goat had reappeared.

Nanluo was taken aback. From the first moment, he had sensed this was no ordinary goat—those eyes were too human. But to reveal such an ability to vanish in an instant was almost beyond belief.

After some time, he finally digested what he had witnessed. Eager to observe the trick again, he mimicked the tiger’s roar several more times. This time, however, the goat did not move at all. Instead, Nanluo sensed a look of mockery and indignation in its eyes…

He felt a chill, fully receiving the goat’s message. To dispel his fear, he called out, “Goat, you really were frightened just now—how foolish! To be scared so easily at your age, with your beard already white and your horns falling out—how ridiculous…”

With each word, Nanluo saw the goat’s expression shift, and so he grew bolder.

Suddenly, an angry voice interrupted him: “Enough! I, the Great Immortal, have mastered the arts of longevity and earth-burrowing. How dare a mere human speak so to me! Beg for mercy, or else…”

Though the goat’s voice was a bit stiff, it was otherwise indistinguishable from a human’s—yet its tone was anything but friendly.

Nanluo was surprised by the talking goat, but after witnessing the battle between Eagle Nine and the giant serpent, his nerves were much steadier. He quickly reasoned that this was a spirit-beast, and the “earth-burrowing” trick must have been the very art just displayed. The high priest had once said that mountain spirits possessed many mystical abilities. If Nanluo could learn this skill, he would never have to walk the long road home—he could simply burrow through the earth and emerge in his tribe’s lands. How grand that would be!

His eyes shone with envy at the thought. He looked at the goat with newfound eagerness.

“Great Immortal, forgive me!” he cried, seizing the opportunity. “Spare my life! I spoke in ignorance—please do not take offense!”

The goat, pleased by his deference, replied smugly, “Hmph! I dislike killing. Tell me: these mountains stretch for thousands of miles with no humans in sight, and you are only a novice in the art of energy refinement. How did you come to be here?”

So, I am truly at the threshold of energy refinement! Nanluo thought, but aloud he answered, “Great Immortal, I am from the Yangping tribe at the foot of Mount Yangping. While hunting, I was seized by a giant eagle and imprisoned on a cliff for three months. Three days ago, by chance, I escaped to this place, but I was badly injured. I beg you to save me.”

The goat narrowed its eyes thoughtfully, then said, “You are fortunate indeed to have escaped here.”

Nanluo cursed inwardly, “Fortunate? If I were truly lucky, I wouldn’t have been caught by that so-called Third Prince and locked in a cage. And even in escaping, I never thought I’d have to fly through the sky on a raging wind. You try it if you think it’s so easy…”

The goat, oblivious to Nanluo’s inner complaints, basked in being called “Great Immortal.” Never before had anyone addressed him this way, and he soon forgot his earlier anger, preening and boasting, “The cliff where you were captured must be the Azure Python Cliff to the west—it is the residence of the Eagle King’s Third Prince. You must have escaped during the battle when the Azure Dragon King attacked the eagle a few days ago.”

Nanluo, who had been blown about so much that he no longer knew east from west, realized he was still close to the cliff. Once recovered, he would need to leave quickly, lest he be captured again.

He could not help but ask, “Does Great Immortal know why the Eagle King’s Third Prince took me captive?”

The goat gave him a sidelong glance and drawled, “The mark on your forehead says it all—you were being trained as a servant, to be sent to the Deathless Palace next year.”

“A servant? What kind of servant?”

The goat’s eyes bulged, clearly displeased that Nanluo had failed to address him as ‘Great Immortal,’ but at last he replied—after all, few ever flattered him so. “A servant in the great halls is one who serves fruit and pours wine. The girls must also dance and sing. Someday, when I have time, perhaps I’ll seek out a few pretty ones to serve me as well.” The goat’s face took on a look of longing.

Nanluo frowned. He finally understood. The thought that humans were raised as servants for these beings was deeply unsettling. Yet, having endured the cage, he knew humans were no more than ants in the eyes of such creatures. He buried his anger and asked, “And what is the Deathless Palace?”

“You ask too many questions, human. In time, you will know,” the goat snapped.

Nanluo, having gauged the goat’s temperament—a love of praise and a desire to see others cower before him—offered a new round of compliments. The goat’s eyes narrowed in pleasure, and he settled by the pool for a whole day. By the end of that day, Nanluo finally understood a little more about the world.

He had known that, aside from humans, the mountains held fierce beasts, and legend spoke of monsters and ‘immortals’ dwelling in the deepest forests. But as to the difference between immortals and monsters, all he knew was that monsters ate people, while immortals did not. Now he understood: whether Eagle Nine or the goat before him, both were monsters—not immortals.

Still, there was much he did not know, and whenever he pressed the goat on something unclear, he was met with a scolding, a thin cover for the goat’s own ignorance.

The place where Nanluo rested was a valley, its trees towering so high that from above, the floor could not be seen. Yet on the valley floor, there were no dense thickets—only tranquility and peace.