Chapter Ninety-Three: The Lunar Star

The Dragon Palace has always held a transcendent position between heaven and earth, for the omnipresent Dragon Gate offers many mortals the chance to acquire the powers of the dragon race. Thus, many who leap over the Dragon Gate and gain such abilities regard themselves as denizens of the Dragon Palace. Even those who have never set foot in the palace or claimed the title are nonetheless categorized by others as belonging to its lineage.

Since the disappearance of the Dragon King in that fateful battle, the dragon clan has been left leaderless. Few have contested the throne of the palace, and so Crown Prince Longyuan naturally became its master. Yet those who inherited dragon powers but lack true dragon blood no longer heed the palace’s commands.

When Donghuang Taiyi arrived, the current master Longyuan emerged to inquire about his purpose, his words calm and measured, showing neither arrogance nor humility. Yet without the Dragon King, the palace exuded an unmistakable sense of insecurity.

Nanluo had never met Longyuan before; when he came to deliver invitations years ago, he hadn’t even been allowed inside. Now, gazing at the young and handsome prince who carefully restrained his brilliance to present a demeanor of uprightness and serenity, Nanluo could not help but recall how Kong Xuan had once suppressed this crown prince beneath the Undying Palace on Phoenix Mountain. Perhaps he was not like this then...

Accompanying Longyuan were eight others, equally striking, each possessing their own distinct aura. Among them was a woman of gentle elegance, garbed in resplendent courtly attire that, though luxurious, was never ostentatious, lending her a noble grace.

They followed behind Longyuan, wary as if facing a formidable enemy. Anyone could imagine the majesty of the Celestial Court had already been revealed, and the man before them was universally acknowledged as the greatest under heaven. Why would he come without reason? Could it be that Taiyi had come personally to force the Dragon Palace into submission, demanding their obeisance to the Celestial Court?

If so, it was truly tyrannical—using the Dragon Palace as the first to make an example of. Though their father was missing, the Dragon Palace would sooner perish than bow to the heavens.

The Dragon Palace’s exalted status bred pride in its crown princes; each silently resolved that should Taiyi demand their service, they would refuse without hesitation.

“I have a carriage,” Taiyi said, his gaze sweeping over the nine dragon heirs standing before him as if the matter were as simple as dining. “I require someone to pull it; you are perfectly suited.”

The nine dragon heirs’ expressions changed dramatically, furious and indignant, their bodies flashing with golden light as they prepared to rise.

Yet Taiyi was faster. Above their heads, unbeknownst to them, appeared an ancient, earthen-colored bell.

“Clang...”

The bell’s toll scattered their radiance, revealing their true forms—not as humans, but as nine magnificent golden dragons, each baring fangs and claws, eyes ablaze with endless fury. Yet, as if bound by some force, they struggled in vain, unable to move.

Taiyi chuckled, waving his sleeve, and a golden carriage appeared in the sky. It had no wheels, merely a vast frame, unadorned yet exuding a sovereign aura.

“Clang...”

At the sound, the nine struggling golden dragons suddenly stilled; their eyes betrayed only unwillingness and rage.

Taiyi spread his hand, summoning eighteen golden cords in the void, which instantly entwined the nine dragon heirs, the other ends fastening to the carriage.

“Ha ha...”

Taiyi strode onto the carriage, tapped it, and the frame was transformed, now adorned with lavish canopies and embellishments. What had once been austere grandeur was now opulent and showy.

At some point, Taiyi held a golden whip.

“Crack...”

The whip struck the air—or perhaps the dragons themselves—and, to Nanluo’s astonishment, the nine heirs soared.

The golden carriage, drawn by the nine dragons, shot through the sky.

Nanluo and Beiling exchanged glances, then quickly rose to pursue.

The others in the Dragon Palace were dumbfounded, unable to accept such a turn—how could their exalted dragon heirs become beasts of burden? It felt like a dream.

One moment they were lords of the palace, sons of the dragon, standing above all. The next, they were harnessed to a carriage.

Nanluo followed behind the carriage, noticing that with every moment, it changed: the framework became a palace, immense and majestic, flying through the sky. The nine dragons, now exerting themselves, grew to hundreds of yards in length.

Nine dragons arched across the heavens, pulling a vast palace behind them...

All of the primordial world trembled.

Countless who had received favors from the Dragon Palace surged forth, hoping to rescue the heirs, only to be obliterated by Taiyi’s hand.

At first, Taiyi acted personally; later, as more challengers appeared, he ordered Nanluo to guard the carriage, leaving the task to him. Most who tried to save the heirs were only celestial immortals; occasionally, a few of divine rank appeared but were dispatched by Taiyi beforehand. Thus, Nanluo guarded the palace carriage—any who approached were struck down, sword lights sweeping across the sky, bodies falling like rain.

Whether they crept in stealth or charged openly, none could breach Nanluo’s defense.

The immense, luxurious palace, drawn by nine colossal dragons, moved steadily through the void, its terrifying momentum sweeping across the heavens. Amidst palace and dragon, Nanluo in his azure robe stood beneath a waning yellow moon, bringing a sense of tranquility amid the surging chaos. Attackers were exposed beneath the moonlight, cut down by flashes of white sword light before they could approach.

“Donghuang travels, surveying the world; all gods withdraw...”

The palace rarely flew high, passing low over the land—though some still dared to attack, most were crushed by its overwhelming presence.

Nanluo wondered if his cultivation had increased, or if those who attacked were so suppressed that they could not use half their power.

Donghuang Taiyi’s tour lasted three years, traversing all regions, naming every mountain, erecting monuments, and appointing mountain gods.

If the locals submitted, all was well; if they resisted, Taiyi’s bell would descend, annihilating them. With a few examples made, most quietly accepted their appointments.

Strangely, none of the truly powerful beings emerged, nor did Taiyi seek them out.

For three years, Nanluo followed Taiyi, seeing all the world: Phoenix Mountain, Kunlun, but never Jade Void Palace or Taiji Palace. Even Yangping Mountain was merely passed by. Taiyi’s journey remained on land, never venturing to the sea.

Nanluo sensed something was happening in the world, and indeed, when he returned with Taiyi to the Celestial Court, he found the Star Hall filled with hundreds whose aura was as deep as the abyss.

After Nanluo entered and bowed, Emperor Jun announced, “For your arduous service these three years, Star Lord of the Celestial Sphere, I bestow upon you the Lunar Star Robe, granting you authority over the Lunar Star and the duty of monitoring the world.”

Nanluo was baffled, not knowing how he had earned such merit, yet was thus rewarded.

Next came a wave of appointments—three hundred sixty-five in total.

Nanluo realized that each of these three hundred sixty-five was a being above the divine realm, skilled in profound arts and deep cultivation. Only now did Nanluo truly comprehend the phrase, “The primordial world is filled with countless beings of great power.”

Yet why had all these entered the Celestial Court? What had happened in these three years to draw them in? Was it their own will, or were they compelled?

Nanluo could not know.

The primordial world was boundless, the sky vast, the stars innumerable.

Nanluo had no idea what the Lunar Star was, but was given a talisman, which revealed that the Lunar Star was, in fact, the moon itself.

Stunned at being granted authority over the Lunar Star, he wondered how he could reach such a distant place, with endless winds and dangers along the way.

But when he used the talisman, he realized the Lunar Star was not in the sky, but a corresponding place on earth.

This time, Emperor Jun had appointed three hundred sixty-five star lords, matching the regions Taiyi had visited in three years. Nanluo finally understood the monuments and mountain appointments were for this purpose; the mountain gods whom Taiyi had casually appointed would have to step aside.

Nanluo wished to know how Emperor Jun found these people and why they were willing to come, but Emperor Jun offered no explanation.

Nanluo remained at the forefront; Beiling did not come, leaving him alone to quietly endure the gaze of countless others.

...

...

“This is Remnant Mountain. I am the mountain god personally appointed by Donghuang. Who are you to disregard the Celestial Court? Come, seize her!” A burly man shouted arrogantly.

Behind him followed a crowd of little demons, clamoring yet none daring to attack.

Opposite them stood a woman. By their standards, she was not beautiful—she lacked smooth fur or any natural aroma—but once she appeared, their eyes could not leave her.

“Remnant Mountain, how unpleasant. From this day, it shall no longer bear that name,” the woman declared, her waist-length black hair flowing, her dress blossoming with myriad flowers.

Her voice was clear but cold.

The little demons only stared, forgetting their lord’s command to seize her.

The burly man stared blankly for a moment before shouting again, “If not Remnant Mountain, then what? Remnant Mountain is imposing, just like me—the sight of it inspires fear and makes beauties throw themselves into my arms. Isn’t that right, boys? Seize her and bring her to my cave!”

“Ha! This mountain is mine now. From today, I am its lord. Boys, seize this coarse-looking fellow for me,” the woman laughed loudly, startling the demons.

“Enough. I’ll handle this myself—let me show you my prowess.”

Before her words faded, she moved: her flowered dress carried a fragrant breeze, and she fluttered through the air like a butterfly among blossoms.

All this was merely how the little demons perceived it. When they regained their senses, their lord had become a pile of bones, which, blown by the wind, scattered like ashes across the sky.

Seeing this, the demons were stunned, blinking in disbelief. After a while, they snapped out of it, reverting to their true forms and fleeing in all directions.

Only a string of silvery laughter remained, echoing like a chilling wind to their ears.

Their mighty lord had been reduced to bones in the blink of an eye by that beautiful woman. Most astonishingly, she smiled before killing, and her movements were graceful. The contrast was so stark that, if asked who was the most dangerous person in the world, they would surely name her.

This was not a single mountain, but a range, and though many such ranges existed, few enclosed a lake at their heart. Seen from above, the place was imbued with the world’s spiritual essence.

“From today, this mountain shall be called Luoling Mountain,” the woman announced from the highest peak overlooking the clear lake. Her voice, though soft, carried a penetrating force, reverberating among the mountains.

After a moment’s thought, she added, “I am the demon general Beiling, subordinate to the Star Lord monitoring the heavens, acting under the Celestial Emperor’s command to govern this mountain. All those who have awakened their spirit must report to my cave within three days, or face death.”

Beiling, satisfied with her proclamation, resolved to settle here and set about arranging her cave. Looking around, she noticed a small blue bird nearby.

A glance told her the bird had awakened its spirit. She beckoned, drawing it to her hand, and asked, “Where is the cave of the former mountain god?”

The bird trembled in her palm for a long while before replying, “It’s... it’s... over there.”

Beiling frowned. “Where? Lead me.” She released the bird into the air, but to her surprise, it fell straight to the ground, still twitching and unable to fly.

Annoyed, Beiling was about to speak when another small red bird flew over and said, “Great Lord Beiling, my sister is timid; let me guide you instead.”

Ignoring the trembling blue bird, Beiling followed the red bird to a cluster of rocks, where a cave opened toward the sun. On the rocks beside the entrance were carved the words “Remnant Mountain Cave.”

With a laugh, Beiling showed her disdain.

The cave lacked a door and was dry, but inside it was very simple—just some stone tables and chairs, nothing else. Or rather, nothing that could catch Beiling’s eye.

The red bird lingered, perhaps out of fear or uncertainty, hovering a few steps behind.

“This cave is yours now, along with everything in it,” Beiling said suddenly, smiling as she tossed her hair and vanished into the air.

The red bird chirped happily to the empty air, “Thank you, great lord, thank you!” It flew around the cave, muttering, “I knew it—high risk, high reward. Hah, that little blue girl was so scared...”

Remnant Mountain, newly renamed Luoling Mountain, lay among the southern peaks of Buzhou Mountain. Though now called Luoling Mountain, it corresponded to the Lunar Star in the sky—a fact Nanluo had not known before. But when Emperor Jun bestowed upon him a certain technique, he understood much.

That technique was not for cultivating energy, but for refining an artifact—a stone tablet, smooth and flawless yet not jade. Upon it were two characters in ancient script, cryptic and profound. Nanluo, versed in the Classic of the Yellow Court, recognized them as the words for “Lunar.”

Thus, to govern the Lunar Star was not to command the moon in the sky, but its corresponding mountain below. Refining the Lunar Tablet to merge with the mountain’s aura completed the task.

Nanluo would gain immense benefit from the process, able to absorb the earth’s essence and forge his body, enter the Dao, and perhaps even step onto the path of sainthood.

Whether this was true, Nanluo did not know, but guessed it might explain why so many came. Why they believed, he did not know—he himself believed only a little.

Beiling departed first for Remnant Mountain, while Nanluo remained in the Celestial Court to refine the Lunar Tablet, unable to leave until it was ready. Even with the technique, it took him over a month to barely transform the tablet into a small piece of jade he could carry away.