Chapter Fifty-Two: All Beings Under Heaven

The method for crafting a Universe Pouch was not complicated, nor were the materials particularly rare, yet producing a truly fine Universe Pouch was extremely difficult. The one who had instructed Nanluo in this art once remarked that any creature’s hide could serve, provided it had reached a certain level of cultivation; the stomachs of great demons possessing the power to devour were the finest material of all. At the time, Nanluo was secretly shocked, wondering, since he himself was a living being, could his own skin be used as well?

To kill another life solely to strip their hide or stomach for the sake of refining such a treasure was something Nanluo could not bring himself to do. Yet, with this already dead giant frog here, his thoughts began to stir.

After much deliberation, he paced back and forth atop the silver-gray back of the enormous frog.

The sky was dark, but to Nanluo’s Celestial Sight, all was clearly visible. At last, he stopped upon the frog’s back. His eyes narrowed; his sword flashed, his body suddenly expanding to several times its normal size—and the sword in his hand grew in proportion.

Manifesting the Law of Heaven and Earth!

The robe he wore, the Cloak of Hidden Heavens Reflecting the Moon and Bathing in Wind, swelled with him, emanating a gentle radiance. A brilliant arc of sword light swept across the frog’s back—once, twice… Fresh blood welled forth, a thick, pungent odor filling the air. Viscera spilled out, the stench overwhelming, but Nanluo seemed not to notice; he bent low, searching intently, like a wild beast feasting on a carcass. Though the Cloak of Hidden Heavens would never be stained, his face was already smeared with blood.

Suddenly, as if sensing something, Nanluo jerked his head up. Across on the mountain, beside the Xuanming Palace, stood a woman in pink—Xuanming herself—watching him in silence.

Her hair was swept up high, her pink gown trailing long; the scornful smile at her lips was more pronounced than ever, as if to say: So, this is your true nature? Is this, then, the nature of humanity?

A sudden panic seized Nanluo. He glanced down at the bloody, mangled mess, the cloying stench. Instantly, he felt as if her gaze was scorching his very soul. With a step into the void, his figure vanished; a flash on a distant mountain peak, and he was gone into the night.

Above, without his notice, a few stars had slipped quietly into the sky, as if observing all that occurred below—including Nanluo’s grisly work.

Beneath the boundless night, the Xuanming Ice Palace loomed over the land, and at its side, the woman in pink stood in quiet pride.

Suddenly, a blue shadow flickered beside her—the very figure of Nanluo, who had just departed.

His face bore no trace of panic now; his calm and composure had returned. Nanluo bowed deeply to Xuanming, then turned and melted into the night.

The world changed, days and nights passed…

Nanluo had become the undisputed priest of the Yangping Clan. No one objected; even the three former priests greeted this with apparent joy—what lay in their hearts, no one could say.

Celebration swept through the tribe, as Nanluo recounted his experiences in broad strokes. The eldest among them, Old Mu, sighed, “So vast is heaven and earth, and yet we humans are so small.”

Nanluo tore down the old, rotten hut and built a new one in its place. It was not large—just two rooms and a main hall for guests and daily life.

Thus, Nanluo settled peacefully among the Yangping Clan. Though old acquaintances and strangers alike would come to see him from time to time, he never grew weary of their company. This was the life he desired: tranquil, simple, undisturbed by ambition or fame, seeking only to guard those he cared for through a lifetime of peace.

One day, sitting quietly before the house with Nanluo, Luoshui suddenly asked, “Uncle, there are so many creatures in the world. Does every kind think like we do? Do they all have mothers, fathers, uncles like me?”

Nanluo slowly opened his eyes. For some reason, he thought of the words spoken by the Devouring Sky Giant Frog: “...you seized my home, destroyed my kin…” After a long pause, he replied, “Perhaps some do.”

“Do they all have their own people?” Luoshui pressed on, eyes wide.

“Yes, they all do.”

“Oh!” Luoshui was quiet for a while, then suddenly asked, “Why do they want to catch you, Uncle? Why do they treat humans as food?”

Nanluo gently stroked the back of her head, answering with some unease, “Perhaps they think themselves a higher order than us humans, so our feelings mean nothing to them.”

Luoshui tilted her head, gazing at the sky. After a moment, she said, clear and bright, “It would be wonderful if humans became the mightiest beings in the world. Then no one would dare bully us, and our people could live in peace, without always having to kneel and worship those mountain spirits.”

This time Nanluo did not answer. In his heart, he recalled the scene of himself rending the giant frog’s corpse in the mountains, and thought: If humans became the world’s strongest, would we not also harm the weak as others do? Would we not, too, deem ourselves the highest of all?

“This is merely a world where the strong prey on the weak. Where is there any true peace…? Why concern myself with what others might do? It’s enough to act from my heart and care for those beside me.”

At this thought, Nanluo smiled with a sense of release, his heart as light as the breeze and clouds. In that moment, he finally unraveled the knot that had bound him since that night, no longer burdened by regret.

To others, it was only a corpse; if Nanluo had not used it, it would have rotted away or been devoured by wild beasts. But now, Nanluo was resolved never again to take from the remains of other beings. How was that any different from carrion beasts, using another’s corpse for one’s own ends?

Nanluo did not know that, in the Immortal Phoenix Palace atop Mount Phoenix, the Phoenix herself had once said he resembled Kong Xuan. Outwardly, Nanluo was handsome enough, but compared to Kong Xuan’s cold radiance, he fell short. What the Phoenix saw was a pride buried deep within Nanluo’s heart, as in Kong Xuan—not the pride that cannot tolerate others, but a pride of spirit.

When he cleaved open the giant frog’s body that night, and met Xuanming’s gaze, that hidden pride had been touched.

Sunlight now shone warmly from the sky, bathing all below.

Nanluo glanced at Luoshui, who seemed lost in thought, and smiled. “Luoshui, would you like to cultivate like your uncle?”

“I would!” she replied without hesitation, then added softly, “But, I can’t cultivate…”

“That’s not for certain,” Nanluo said gently. “Nothing is impossible until you try. I’m only asking if you have the resolve to persevere. You must know, the early stages of cultivation are very dull…”

“I’m not afraid!” Luoshui said earnestly. “I’ll work very hard at it. One day, I’ll be a priest too. I’ll fly through the clouds and protect our people, just like you!”

Nanluo laughed, gently pinching her nose. “Remember, you said this. If you slack off, your uncle will have to punish you.”

Luoshui nodded solemnly, but her eyes sparkled as she asked, “Uncle, could you also teach the others to cultivate?”

Nanluo was taken aback, then smiled. “Of course. I can teach them the basics, but whether they succeed or not depends on themselves.”

Delighted, Luoshui cheered for her uncle and immediately ran off to tell the others.

Now, at last, Nanluo understood the pink-robed Xuanming’s actions—how she seized his Azure Sword and Demon Moon Mirror, then discarded them as if they were nothing. Her cold pride, her power—these were the reasons. She had snatched the mirror merely to use it as a palace ornament; her disdainful smile now made Nanluo shake his head and smile wryly at his own anxious reaction back then.

Would he ever fight ants for their treasures? Of course not. And perhaps, to her, he and the ants were not so very different.

That was what it meant to be truly at one with the Dao: to see all things outside oneself as mere trifles, to take pride in one’s own strength, and scorn the value of external things.

Lost in thought for a while, Nanluo suddenly remembered the two seeds tucked in his robe. One was said to be a Yellow Plum, the other a Flat Peach.

Both were gifts from others at the Wuzhuang Temple. Nanluo had never tasted them, but hearing of their wonders, he had asked for the seeds. Though the seeds had been handed down for countless generations, and their cultivation required daily watering with spiritual energy, and might not even sprout, Nanluo had been delighted to receive them.

To plant a tree or two, and let future generations taste their fruit.

To recite the “Huangting” Sutra in peace, and watch the ever-changing world with tranquil heart.