Chapter Ninety: Divine Realm

Before three months had passed, Nan Luo returned to the Celestial Court.

Now, in his eyes, the Celestial Court seemed even more lofty and remote, exuding a sense of sovereign authority that overlooked all living beings.

Though the Celestial Court had once shown signs of bustling prosperity, it had quieted again after Emperor Jun commanded all to gather the outstanding talents of their various clans to form an army.

Yet, at this moment, the Celestial Court at last showed its claws—a tiger displaying its might, its dominance unmistakable.

Upon entering to see Emperor Jun, Nan Luo found that he seemed almost fused with the Hall of Stars itself. Stepping into the hall, Nan Luo felt himself enveloped by a vast and mysterious aura—so grand that, upon closer inspection, it became intangible and elusive.

Nan Luo reported to Emperor Jun that his own clan had no cultivators suitable for service in the Celestial Court—no one fit to be soldier or general.

Emperor Jun laughed. “There are still some among the human race, though far fewer than in other tribes. You simply do not wish for them to enter the Celestial Court, do you?”

Nan Luo smiled, not replying. Indeed, he did not wish for them to come. He knew there must be such people among the humans, but in his heart, service in the Celestial Court was no blessing—it meant war, death, and a loss of freedom both in body and soul.

Emperor Jun was unconcerned by Nan Luo’s silence, and continued, “Your progress has been swift. When I first saw you, you had only just entered the Celestial Immortal stage. Now you can spar against a great shaman of the Wu Tribe without defeat—you have entered the Divine Realm...”

This was the first time Nan Luo had heard someone speak of further divisions above the primordial soul, and he could not help but ask, “Since coming to the Great Desolation, I have met many people who practice different paths of cultivation. This Celestial Immortal stage and Divine Realm...?”

Emperor Jun smiled serenely. “It is nothing extraordinary. When one reaches a certain height, all paths of cultivation reveal their secrets. The myriad ways are but roads up the same mountain. Only when you stand at the summit and watch the countless climbers below do you see clearly where each one stands—and thus, you can distinguish the various realms.”

He spoke simply, without the hauteur one might expect of the Celestial Emperor.

Nan Luo smiled. He had not expected Emperor Jun to explain with such a metaphor—a question asked in passing had elicited a full explanation. Inwardly, he wondered: Taiyi has already entered the Sage’s Path—does that mean the Sage’s Path is the summit itself?

Emperor Jun gazed quietly at the ceiling of the Hall of Stars. At some point, the hall had become a boundless void filled with countless stars—flickering, mysterious, and unfathomably deep.

“Only those who have surpassed the Celestial Immortal realm are qualified to ascend the mountain of the Great Dao. As for the Celestial Immortal realm itself, I define it as the stage where one can communicate with heaven and earth, possessing a vague understanding of the world. Such a one is considered a Celestial Immortal.”

“If becoming a Celestial Immortal grants you the right to climb the mountain toward the summit of the Great Dao, then the Divine Realm is the mountainside. Those in the Divine Realm clearly comprehend the world—they can transform their understanding of the Dao into magical arts and divine powers. This marks entry into the Divine Realm.”

Emperor Jun spoke gently, like an elder instructing a younger generation.

“Then, above the Divine Realm, is it the Sage’s Path?” Nan Luo asked.

“No,” Emperor Jun replied, “it is the Heavenly Dao—the Realm of Heaven itself.”

“Heavenly Dao? How can it be the Heavenly Dao?” Nan Luo was puzzled. The name alone suggested the ultimate height, yet it seemed somehow unfitting.

“Yes, it is the Realm of Heaven. When one in the Divine Realm has achieved complete mastery of their own Dao, and then gains insight into other Daos, they begin to enter the Dao Realm. The Dao Realm is an overall understanding of the Way of Heaven and Earth. There are very few in this realm—they dwell in contemplation, not engaging with the world. Only upon discovering their own path to the heavens, and stepping onto that unique road, do they enter the Sage’s Path.”

Emperor Jun, clad in his dark robe embroidered with the stars of the heavens, stood quietly, his calm tone radiating an air of transcendent authority.

Nan Luo withdrew, not asking what lay beyond the Sage’s Path, but understanding that he himself had only just entered the Divine Realm. How long, how many fortunes, would it take to reach the Dao Realm? Yet it was the Dao Realm that truly marked a person’s transformation—when the cocoon finally becomes a butterfly. Nan Luo sighed inwardly; the Dao Realm was perhaps the last ascent, from which one could survey all the paths to the summit and choose the one most suited to himself.

“Celestial Immortal, Divine Realm, Dao Realm.” These three levels flowed through Nan Luo’s mind. He understood now: the early Celestial Immortal was simply searching for a path at the foot of the mountain, glancing up at the steep and shrouded heights.

Once a path is chosen and he delves into the mountain, he journeys from Celestial Immortal to Divine Realm. This ascent is all head-down effort, every step bringing new realizations, but lost within, unable to see the whole. Upon reaching a certain height and looking back, he realizes where he took wrong turns. By summarizing all gains and losses, if he can distill his own understanding, he enters the Divine Realm, applying what he has learned as his own true skill.

From outside, the Celestial Court appears layered and finite, but within, those who enter feel it as boundless as the starry sky.

Nan Luo had his own chamber—not unique to him, but granted to all who served the Celestial Court. Though the Celestial Court looked finite from outside, within it seemed endless. Nan Luo had sensed this the first time Emperor Jun gave him a talisman.

Having used such talismans before, he quickly adapted. With a silent incantation, the talisman, seeming to encompass heaven and earth, expanded in the void to form a doorway. Stepping through, he entered his chamber.

Inside was only a cloud bed—though by what means Emperor Jun had drawn a thread of Buzhou Mountain’s spirit vein into it, Nan Luo did not know. Seated there, one could not only refine their own power more efficiently, but also faintly sense the upright spirit of Buzhou Mountain.

Just as Nan Luo settled cross-legged on the cloud bed to meditate, a knock sounded at the door. Puzzled, he realized no one had ever knocked since he’d received the chamber; even when he’d opened the door himself, he’d seen only endless stars, with no path in or out, as though in another realm.

He opened the door to find that familiar giant, the Seventeenth—only later known as Cang Feng—whom he’d first met in the Palace of Undying.

Cang Feng was half a head taller than Nan Luo, his face still wearing that same honest, somewhat foolish smile as years ago.

Yet, it was this very man who had survived with ease in the prison of Azure Python Mountain, where Nan Luo had nearly died from relentless cultivation; who had escaped the collapse of Phoenix Mountain and the ruin of the Palace of Undying, where countless others perished. Once more, he had survived against all odds.

Nan Luo welcomed him in with a smile. Since their first meeting, he had not seen him again.

“I told the Celestial Emperor I was coming to visit you,” Cang Feng said, his eyes carrying a rare hint of emotion.

For reasons unknown, Nan Luo habitually called him Eighteen—it was as if only then was he truly himself. Yet, upon closer thought, Eighteen seemed shrouded in mystery.

After entering, Cang Feng simply glanced around and recounted how he had ended up here: one day, chaos erupted between heaven and earth; Phoenix Mountain shook, and the Palace of Undying trembled. He ran for his life, encountered the Celestial Emperor, sought help, and thus found himself here.

He spoke quietly, his voice calm, as if everything had happened naturally. Yet Nan Luo found it incredible—so many had died, yet he alone had escaped, just happening to meet Emperor Jun. Still, there was no denying it; in this world, miraculous occurrences were common.

Indeed, Nan Luo himself had reached the Divine Realm through a series of unbelievable events.

After Cang Feng left, Nan Luo knew only that he now cared for the crown prince in the harem; nothing else was known—neither his origin nor his cultivation, which seemed unchanged since their days in the Palace of Undying.

Yao Ji, in the end, was unable to take Nan Luo as her master; she did not even exchange a word with him.

Nan Luo had stood atop the mountain, seeing both Hou Yi and Xing Tian. From their eyes, he knew words would change nothing, yet he still spoke: “I do not wish to be your enemy. If I had a choice, I would forgo even that half-drop of essence blood. But Ancestor Zhu Rong once saved my life, and killing Zhao Mian was out of necessity.”

Here he stopped speaking; Xing Tian and Hou Yi listened in silence, their eyes filled with murderous intent that anyone could perceive.

So Nan Luo departed. They, too, seemed to know that this time they could no longer threaten him, and did not pursue.

Yao Ji tried to catch up and request apprenticeship, but could not; Yang Tianyou’s words reached her ears: “If they meet again in the future, it will not rest until one is dead.”

“Not rest until death?” Yao Ji repeated in surprise. “But the Wu Tribe still has their ancestral shamans—he is no match for any of them.”

Yang Tianyou was silent.

Nan Luo had no idea that a woman had once wished to become his disciple. After Eighteen left, he returned to his cloud bed. At his level, personal power was less important; in battle, one could borrow the power of heaven and earth, far surpassing his own. Yet meditation was not only for refining power, but for connecting the primordial spirit with the world—like chanting the Yellow Court Classic, gaining subtle improvement over time.

A few days later, another knock came at his door. The visitor this time surprised him greatly.

“You? Why have you come here?” Nan Luo asked in astonishment.

“We have shared hardships—you saved me, I saved you. Why shouldn’t I come? Or is it that now you’re the First Star Lord of the Celestial Court, you look down on others? How about a match, then, and see how much you’ve improved—enough to escape Hou Yi and Xing Tian together?”

It was the wildly unpredictable Bei Ling. She wore a plain blue dress, looking gentle and composed—nothing like the fierce, unpredictable woman who once turned on others at a word.

Nan Luo smiled. “I have no reputation, only self-preservation forced by circumstance.”

She giggled. “Self-preservation—good excuse. Next time I kill, I’ll say I was forced to. You killed over thirty demon kings while being hunted by the Wu’s top shamans, then vanished without a trace. Now you are famous throughout the Great Desolation.”

Her face was filled with longing. She sighed, “If only I’d been there—now, I’d be legendary.”

Nan Luo blinked, surprised by her ambition. He smiled, “A pity you weren’t there. But, where have you been all this time? Why did you leave so suddenly that day?”

“You finally ask—couldn’t resist, could you? Well, I won’t tell you.” Bei Ling flipped her hair, which turned gray in an instant.

Nan Luo thought to himself, amused—it was a casual question; how did it become a matter of impatience? He kept silent.

Bei Ling, pleased with herself, soon found Nan Luo meditating with closed eyes. Annoyed, she said, “Fine, I’ll tell you. After I left that day, I went to the Wu Tribe.”

“What for?” Nan Luo opened his eyes.

“To take revenge, of course!” she laughed.

“Revenge? But Zhao Mian is dead. Who else?” Nan Luo asked.

“The Wu Tribe! When Zhao Mian ambushed me during my transformation and controlled me for years, how could I not take revenge?” Bei Ling’s clothes gradually turned blood-red.

Her once-beautiful features brimmed with murderous intent and wildness.

“Who did you take revenge on?” Nan Luo asked, alarmed.

“The Wu Tribe, of course!” Bei Ling’s robes turned blue again, her air pure and calm, leaving Nan Luo bewildered by her shifting moods.

Seeing his confusion, she explained with a laugh, “Anyone of the Wu Tribe. I kill any I meet, draining their essence. Hmph...”

Nan Luo was not shocked; by now, such things seemed natural for her.

“Didn’t you encounter any great shamans?” Nan Luo asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Ha! So what if I did? I even killed one!” Bei Ling said with pride.

“You killed a great shaman?” Nan Luo found it hard to believe.

Seeing his surprise, Bei Ling grew even more smug. “Not all great shamans are equal. There are over a dozen in the Wu Tribe, but only a few are truly renowned—like Hou Yi, Xing Tian, and Kuafu.”

“Then... why are you here?” Nan Luo asked, knowing her temperament would not rest until the Wu Tribe was exterminated.

“I ran into an ancestral shaman.”

“You survived an encounter with an ancestor shaman? That’s a miracle,” Nan Luo said with a smile.

“I didn’t escape her—she simply didn’t act. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have survived. The Wu Tribe’s ancestors are terrifying! That red dress—how can it look so cold on her?”

Nan Luo instantly thought of Xuan Ming—only she could fit that description: cold, stunning, and aloof. That she spared Bei Ling made sense.

“Were you so frightened you fled to the Celestial Court for refuge?” Nan Luo teased.

Bei Ling denied it at once. “I’m your subordinate now. From today, I’ll follow you into battle—heehee...”

“You, my subordinate? Who agreed?”

“Emperor Jun did,” Bei Ling replied swiftly, using his name without the slightest deference.

Three months soon passed, and all returned, each bringing followers—some hundreds, others at least dozens. Each radiated inner strength, all at or near the Celestial Immortal realm.

Now, as Nan Luo looked upon his fellow courtiers, he realized they must all be in the Divine Realm. Since he himself had entered this realm, his perception had grown sharper.

He reflected that, though he might not have been their match before, to them he likely still lacked the qualifications to be their equal. Yet he understood: higher realm meant higher power, but differences varied by person. So long as the gap was not too great, there was still a chance in battle.

Once more, all gathered in the Hall of Stars. Though so many entered, it accommodated them all with ease, as if the hall truly embodied infinity.

This time, Emperor Jun did not assign ranks, save for Nan Luo, who was half-formally named Overseer of the Stars—so he stood at the head, Bei Ling at his side, her gaze wild, heedless of all.

Those who had once looked askance at Nan Luo now glared at Bei Ling with anger, but she was unperturbed. Her robes shifted colors under their gaze, and she cared not for their opinions.

The Hall of Stars now appeared as a true celestial palace, starry skies overhead, endless radiance pouring down.

Emperor Jun manifested from the starlight; Taiyi did not appear.

“I grant you the Star Talisman. It can hide you, form star arrays, and ward off a single calamity.”

With a sweep of his dark sleeve, starlight rained down, each point falling upon a person. In that instant, everyone was shrouded in a mysterious brilliance, as if they were now united as one.