Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Spirit Beast Ring

After flying for quite some time, Yang Nan finally caught sight of the gates of Mount Kunlun. He stowed away his magical weapon and descended to the ground, where a steward disciple greeted him with a bright smile, bowing respectfully. “Greetings, Uncle Yang. You’ve been gone for more than half a year, and we’ve truly missed you.”

Yang Nan saw the disciple’s cheerful expression and nodded with a faint smile. “I’ve returned to the mountain this time to deliver my offerings. You recognize me, then?”

The steward disciple replied with utmost respect, “Within less than a year, Uncle Yang subdued the horde of demons and brought order to Demon Valley, transforming the seventy-two valleys. News of your deeds reached Kunlun, and every disciple praised you with a raised thumb. Though I am dull, I have heard much; your divine prowess inspires great admiration in my heart.”

His eyes shone with respect, and he dared not treat this junior uncle as he once might have. Kunlun had long received word of Yang Nan’s accomplishments, and it was now clear why this steward sought to curry favor. Those who held such positions were all formidable figures, especially those in charge of mines and herb gardens—disciples flush with wealth and influence.

Having established himself in Spirit Beast Mountain, Yang Nan had now entered the ranks of the mighty. Not only was his name well-known among the inner disciples, but he was also rich and powerful.

“Hun Yuan, grant him five spirit stones,” Yang Nan instructed. Hun Yuan chuckled and drew five medium-grade spirit stones from his spatial ring, handing them to the steward, whose surprise and delight were evident. “Thank you, Uncle Yang! I hardly deserve such generosity!”

The disciples of Kunlun needed spirit stones for alchemy, weapon forging, and cultivation; five stones were a windfall. For outer and registered disciples, their monthly allotment of stones and iron was meager, barely enough for training—as evidenced by Hun Yuan’s once threadbare appearance. But now, with Yang Nan’s newfound wealth, even his followers had grown generous; spirit stones were plentiful in the Jade Pure Hall, so what were five more?

Hun Yuan’s life-bound magical weapon was on the verge of breaking through to king-tier, and his stash of spirit stones was considerable. Such was the advantage of having a foundation!

Yang Nan’s footing within Kunlun was still shallow; befriending low-ranked disciples was prudent. He had returned bearing treasures to win hearts.

Looking to the bustling Cloud Gate in the distance, Yang Nan summoned the woman from his ring. She gazed in awe at the majestic, ethereal peaks of Kunlun, utterly transfixed by the otherworldly sight—a grandeur few mortals could ever witness.

Her simple dress fluttered as she stared wistfully at Kunlun, lost in thought.

Yang Nan said lightly, “It’s not proper for me to bring a mortal up the mountain. If you wish to ascend, I’ll have someone guide you to the Cloud Gate to seek the immortal path. If not, I’ll take you to an Immortal Residence, give you gold and silver, and send you home.”

She shook her head firmly. “Thank you, Immortal. I wish to climb Kunlun.”

Seeing her resolve, Yang Nan said no more, calling the steward to lead her to face the Seven Paths of Seeking Immortality. The steward, eager to serve after receiving his reward, agreed at once.

Yang Nan wrapped some gold and silver in a small pouch and handed it to her. “Leave this at the Cloud Gate. If you fail to pass, take it and return home. Our fates end here.”

He had done all he could for her; they were strangers, and their paths now diverged.

She bowed deeply, “Thank you for your great kindness, Immortal. I shall never forget it.”

Yang Nan waved his hand, and the steward took the woman towards the Cloud Gate. Shaking his head, Yang Nan doubted she would succeed; the Seven Paths of Seeking Immortality were formidable, requiring either a deep affinity with the Dao or extraordinary willpower. The crowds below the mountain were countless, yet only one in a hundred passed the trial to become a registered disciple, one in a thousand to become an outer disciple, and one in ten thousand to enter the inner ranks.

As for true heirs of the sect, there were only a few dozen in all of Kunlun—such was the difficulty.

Even Yang Nan himself, without the aid of the Celestial Talisman, could hardly have become a weapon master in three years. To become a true heir seemed almost hopeless, let alone for this woman.

The immortal path was long and arduous; it was not a matter of mere desire. Since ancient times, those who attained sainthood or immortality were rarer than dragons, with only one arising from ten million.

The tribulations of the heart, vows, and emotional entanglements—though cultivation lacked heavenly calamities, the trials of the heart were many, and the slightest misstep would bar one from the heights.

The Path of Seeking Immortality was the first threshold in cultivation, and even strong men struggled to cross it—much less a delicate woman.

“Truly, the road to eternal life is long, and the immortal path is full of obstacles,” Yang Nan thought, collecting himself and taking Hun Yuan and Qian Ren with him, flying towards the Heavenly Gate. The steward had already lifted the restrictions, and Yang Nan passed unimpeded, soaring over peaks. Passing one mountain, he spotted Wu Yue, the little boy he had met three years ago, now grown into a small youth, leisurely riding a great white ox and playing a shepherd’s flute.

The scene—shepherd boy on white ox, song echoing through the woods—was idyllic.

Seeing an old acquaintance, Yang Nan landed and greeted the youth with a smile. “Wu Yue, do you still remember me?”

Wu Yue’s pure black eyes stared at Yang Nan in confusion. He scrutinized him for a long while before saying, “Uncle, please forgive my poor eyesight—I truly do not recognize you.” As he finished speaking, the white ox suddenly lifted its head, gazed at Yang Nan with its huge eyes, then turned to Wu Yue and bellowed, as if reminding him.

Wu Yue slapped his forehead and laughed, “Ah, it’s Uncle Yang! My memory is terrible. You’ve become so handsome in these few years—if not for the ox’s reminder, I wouldn’t have dared to claim acquaintance. Please don’t be offended.” He affectionately patted the ox’s head in reward.

“This Wu Yue, after all these years, is still as innocent and pure as ever,” Yang Nan mused.

He smiled, “Has the white ox been well-behaved these years? Still sneaking spirit herbs?”

Wu Yue pulled a face, “Hasn’t it? It was good for a while, but recently it snuck up Purple Cloud Peak and drank all of Big Beard Uncle’s monkey wine. That wine is his pride and joy, and he was so furious he grabbed his Seven Star Blade and threatened to slaughter the ox! If not for Uncle Huo Lian’s intervention, the ox would have been roasted by now.”

Wu Yue’s face showed relief at having escaped disaster. The white ox bellowed in agreement, obviously still nervous. Yang Nan, seeing their trembling expressions, could imagine how terrifying Big Beard must have been in his rage, and laughed. “Why do you call Big Beard Uncle ‘Hu One Blade’? Monkey wine is a rare treat, and the ox is certainly mischievous.”

Even the hearty Big Beard could be provoked; monkey wine must indeed be his treasure.

Wu Yue groaned, “The ox is my treasure too! Big Beard’s face is all hair, and he wields the Seven Star Blade—he looks more like a butcher than an immortal. If I don’t call him ‘Hu One Blade,’ what else? But he’s sworn to butcher my ox one day—what am I to do?” He rubbed his head in distress, unable to think of a solution.

Yang Nan found the youth charming—so innocent, yet sly and occasionally muddled. He shook his head, smiling, “Very well, I’ll speak to Big Beard for you. He won’t slaughter the ox, but you mustn’t call him ‘Hu One Blade’ anymore; it sounds too much like a butcher.”

Yang Nan chuckled inwardly. Even Big Beard wasn’t immune to nicknames; he wondered how he’d react.

Wu Yue stuck out his tongue and made a goofy face, delighted. “Uncle Yang will stand up for me? If he spares my ox, I’ll never call him ‘Hu One Blade’ again.”

Yang Nan took out a few spirit herbs and fed them to the white ox. The ox, intelligent as it was, curled its tongue and swallowed the herbs, then let out a low bellow and licked Yang Nan’s palm in thanks. Seeing the herbs devoured, the monkey spirit atop Yang Nan’s head was not pleased; it jumped down, trying to pry the ox’s mouth open to reclaim the herbs. Yang Nan quickly grabbed it, while the little monkey pointed angrily at the ox, squeaking indignantly—these rare herbs were hard even for it to find, how could they be given so freely?

But the ox, so long as it had food, feared neither mountains nor fires, and ignored the tiny monkey’s protests.

Wu Yue’s eyes lit up at the sight of the adorable white-furred monkey. “Spirit Monkey? Uncle, where did you find this ancient rarity?”

Yang Nan, knowing Wu Yue loved spirit beasts, smiled, “If you come with me to Spirit Beast Mountain, you’ll find no shortage of such creatures.” Spirit Beast Mountain had plenty, though truly special ones were rare. This monkey was hard to find, but there were many others.

Wu Yue was tempted, but sighed, “Uncle Huo Lian says my cultivation is too shallow; he won’t let me go. Better not.” He thought a moment, “Uncle Yang, why don’t you put a spirit beast ring on your monkey? If it runs off, what then?”

Yang Nan now noticed the white ox wore a large green ring on its nose, attached to a rein held by Wu Yue. Clearly, it was a magical tool—one for taming beasts. With such a ring, spirit beasts obeyed their masters, or else suffered greatly.

Wu Yue, though young, managed the ox thanks to the ring.

Yang Nan smiled, “I don’t know how to forge such rings yet, so I let it roam free.”

Wu Yue giggled, “If you help me plead my case, I’ll give you a ring. But you must keep Big Beard—now Hu Three Blades—away from my ox, or else I’ll need the ring back!”

Yang Nan blinked—when had Hu One Blade become Hu Three Blades? Before he could ask, Wu Yue pulled out a small green ring. “It’s simple to use: put it on a beast, and if it misbehaves, pinch the incantation, and it’ll suffer headaches and pains like a thousand needles. No matter how strong, it’ll behave.”

The ring was inscribed with runes, glowing green—clearly no ordinary item.

As he stroked the ring on the ox’s nose, the ox shuddered, obviously fearful from past experience. Yang Nan took the ring and inspected it; each was imbued with a powerful restriction. Once a beast wore it, mischief was impossible—a truly wonderful tool.

Yet forging such rings was no easy task, and Yang Nan felt awkward accepting the gift.

Wu Yue tried to catch the monkey and fit it with the ring, but it was far too clever, darting away, jumping up and down Yang Nan to escape, always eluding Wu Yue’s grasp. Yang Nan had an idea. “Wu Yue, let’s leave the monkey aside. I have a master-level monster—perhaps we can try the ring on it?”

Wu Yue hesitated, “I’ve only tried it on spirit beasts—never monsters. Shall we give it a try?”