Chapter Eighty-Seven: A World of Its Own

There is a saying passed down through the ages: the human heart has seven apertures, and its mysteries are profound. This speaks not only of human intelligence, but also of the flavor of the human heart. Thus, when humanity migrated, countless little demons and monsters pursued them, leading to horrors of cannibalism. Originally, humans lived quietly in one place, undisturbed, and nothing happened; but once they all poured out and began to roam the earth, excitement stirred among the creatures. It was as if, in their boredom, they had suddenly discovered a source of entertainment, never realizing it was a catastrophe for mankind.

The white wolf behind the Yangping tribe’s mountain had terrified generations of the Yang clan, devouring many, and had been a thorn in the side of several chieftains. They hated it, yet were helpless, forced to watch their clansmen fall under the white wolf demon’s claws.

The white wolf demon was captured by Nanluo, skinned and dismembered by Xiaohu... Then the wolf demon’s second brother arrived, only to be cleaved in two by Nanluo’s seemingly effortless sword. That wolf said he was of the bloodthirsty wolf clan, with an elder brother in the Celestial Court. At the time, Nanluo had not considered the implications; he merely heard the wolf pestering at his ear, and unable to restrain his murderous intent, slew him.

Even after calming himself later, Nanluo felt no regret, nor fear—only a heightened caution in his heart. The Celestial Emperor’s seemingly casual remark, “the first star lord of the Celestial Court,” had plunged Nanluo into peril, and today, that danger had reached its zenith.

Everyone sensed it—the vague threat and constraint beneath the dusky moonlight in the sky. Thus, the onlookers all chose to retreat beyond the moon’s glow... Nanluo had no idea how many eyes watched him from the darkness outside the moonlight, nor how many plotted to take his life this day.

Heavenly treasures are wondrous things. Rarely spoken of, yet often seen wielded by their owners, they unleash awe-inspiring power. But they exist only in the hands of those with destiny; a single innate treasure can multiply one’s strength several times over against a peer. Thus, many had already guessed that Nanluo’s Azure Sword and Demon Moon Mirror were innate treasures.

Now, in those people’s eyes, Nanluo was a man doomed to die. No matter that he displayed strength rivaling the mightiest shamans; it mattered not. Xingtian’s battle axe and Hou Yi’s arched celestial bow were certainly treasures, yet no one dared covet them. Everyone knew that even if they risked their lives to seize them, they would not live long enough to enjoy their spoils, for the Shaman tribe had twelve ancestral shamans, dominating heaven and earth, their power unmatched.

Nanluo was different. Though he now seemed powerful enough to contend with the great shamans, his might was not so fearsome as to deter all ambition, nor did he possess a formidable backing to command awe across the world.

Such was Nanluo’s situation, and so too had humanity been in ancient times.

Siming stood atop a great mountain, gazing distantly at the dusky moon in the sky, then at Nanluo, eyes closed and wielding his sword. Murderous intent welled endlessly in his heart.

He had come alone—no other of the bloodthirsty wolf clan had arrived. Though not as strong as his clan’s patriarch, he was the foremost among his kin save for those long secluded in cultivation.

His purpose: revenge for his brother. And if he could seize an innate treasure along the way, so much the better.

The Celestial Court forbade private duels, so he had not acted there, suppressing even his killing intent for fear Nanluo might sense it, causing complications. He followed Nanluo down the mountain, just as Hou Yi did, lest Nanluo escape back to the Celestial Court, so neither had made a move. Yet his presence alerted Hou Yi, who noticed him.

With the pride unique to the Shaman tribe, Hou Yi paid Siming no mind, and after confirming Siming was not Nanluo’s ally, ignored him.

Siming looked at Nanluo, at the Demon Moon Mirror in the sky, a feverish light burning in his eyes. He cared little for the Azure Sword, but upon seeing Nanluo’s strength multiply after the mirror appeared, he knew that "moon" in the sky was the treasure he sought.

He was certain Xingtian and Hou Yi would not covet the "moon" and sword in the sky—not because they failed to recognize them as innate treasures, but because they no longer needed them. Some things are not better for being more numerous; only by being refined and specialized can one transcend the mundane. So it is with magical artifacts.

The two great shamans of the Shaman tribe might not care, but that did not mean others would not fight for them. Siming knew that at least five mountain lords nearby coveted Nanluo’s two innate treasures.

They were all kings of their respective mountains. Though Siming believed none matched him in raw strength, their numbers and entrenched power on their home turf were not to be underestimated.

Just then, Hou Yi’s cold, emotionless voice drifted from the void. It was mysterious, obscure, and hard to fathom. Siming looked toward Hou Yi, seeing that he seemed to have merged with the great mountain he stood upon.

The mountain’s aura had concentrated upon his arrow, radiating a force capable of shattering the void.

Hou Yi stood in robes as white as snow, his arched celestial bow like the full moon... In this moment, he drew every gaze; heaven and earth fell silent, a terrifying aura surged straight toward Nanluo’s heart.

It was as if all sound in the world had been absorbed by the arrow in that instant.

Break... The arrow was released.

Everyone felt the same thing in that instant—space itself was shattered.

The entire space became like a mirror; when Hou Yi’s arrow was loosed, it seemed the void splintered and collapsed.

The arrow appeared to move incredibly slowly, so slow that everyone could clearly sense the void breaking inch by inch wherever the black arrow passed, shattering like spray, like mist.

Though everyone perceived it as slow, they only caught the moment the arrow was released, and by the time they could see it clearly, it had already collided with Nanluo’s sword in the sky.

If the moment the arrow left the string was silent and tranquil destruction, now it was earth-shattering, a great explosion.

Like a ten-thousand-meter waterfall plunging from a mountaintop, or a tsunami sweeping in, the sound shook heaven and earth.

Boom... boom...

No one expected Nanluo to withstand it. When the arrow was released, everyone had already prepared themselves; they believed Nanluo could not block this shot, and even if he did, he would be gravely wounded—then their opportunity would come.

Innate treasures are exceedingly rare, and here two had appeared at once; how could they not be excited?

Yet they did not notice that, at the instant Hou Yi’s arrow shattered the void, the dusky "moon" above Nanluo’s head suddenly became brighter, as if affected by the blast.

Externally, when Hou Yi released his arrow, Nanluo’s senses abruptly entered a state of deafness—not that he heard nothing, but that all his spiritual awareness focused solely on the arrow that shattered the void.

The Arrow of Shattered Space lived up to its name. If not for the mirror’s light enveloping him, and the mirror’s tremendous boost to his mind, spirit, and energy, Nanluo would have had no confidence in blocking it.

Yet as the arrow approached, the force that sought to destroy all, to annihilate the soul, pushed Nanluo’s mind to a state of intense concentration. Under such pressure, his potential was unconsciously forced forth...

Through years of blending man, sword, and mirror, the power of the Three Talents revealed its perfect form at this moment. The three became as one—a person, a world.

The sword floated before Nanluo, radiating a faint glow, trembling, never still, pointing toward all under heaven.

He, along with the Demon Moon Mirror above his head, seemed barely able to withstand the arrow’s force, yet together they rose into the sky, maintaining the flawless Three Talents formation.

Sword, mirror, and man had become a world unto themselves.

The Demon Moon Mirror was the heavens, swallowing the vital energies of heaven and earth, illuminating all; the Azure Sword trembled ceaselessly, poised to strike any under the mirror’s light, ready at any moment to rend the void and sever a head.

Siming was shocked—if Nanluo’s earlier prowess was merely surprising, now it was almost unacceptable to him.

This was clearly the realm where man and artifact become one, souls intertwined.

If one were to describe it plainly, only the word “transparent” would suffice. The refining of magical treasures consists of levels: at first, mere sensing; then comes communication and control; and next, harmonious mastery. At this moment, Nanluo had entered transparency. It is like a sudden enlightenment—where spells once usable but not understood are now comprehended, everything becomes clear as water, the mirror’s surface brightly revealed.

The next level is assimilation. When one acquires a treasure, they begin to refine it; but true assimilation is marked by the ability to merge the artifact into the body, to have it obey the mind and transform without constraint, unbound by physical form. Assimilation is the process of dissolving the external shape—at that point, it cannot be seized, except by the death of its master; otherwise, with a single thought, it vanishes into the intangible, returning to its owner.

Yet there is a constraint: only innate artifacts can be truly assimilated; otherwise, it is impossible to merge them fully into the body. Those who achieve this in the primordial world are few indeed. Once an innate treasure is truly assimilated, the wielder’s power multiplies, and its true mysteries are known only to those who have accomplished such refinement.