Volume One: The Most Heartless Phoenix Tree Blossom Chapter Seven: Gathering Immortals Terrace

“Lanling has been gone for so long; she must be tired of wandering by now. She should be coming back soon. Those days spent in the Golden Martial Void were the most pleasant of all,” Zhuo Hua mused, his feelings churning within him.

His thoughts leapt across countless years, and in the haze of memory, he could just make out the vague impression of the Golden Martial Void. Although it was a desolate and perilous place, Zhuo Hua missed it even more than his own homeland.

Whenever the Golden Martial Void came to mind, images of Lanling’s every mood appeared before him—her joys, her sorrows, her laughter and her tears. There was always a trace of melancholy lingering between her brows, a sorrow that never faded, not even when she smiled; it was always faintly visible in her bright eyes.

He remembered once, after finishing his cultivation, returning to the cave where he lived, only to find Lanling piling up stones to make a crude platform. He teased her, “That thing you’re building doesn’t look like a table at all—it looks more like a grave mound.”

He hadn’t even finished speaking before a large stone came hurtling toward his face, shattering against the protective energy around him. The suddenness of it left him stunned for a long moment. Lanling cast him a sidelong glance, eyebrows raised, and said, “This wretched place doesn’t even have a proper table. There’s nowhere to put anything when we eat. Tell me, as my guardian, can you really bear to watch me live in such hardship day after day?”

Zhuo Hua scratched his head, embarrassed, and replied, “I never thought it was so bad. Besides, you seem to enjoy your roasted meat every day anyway, don’t you?” At that, another stone smashed to pieces over his head.

Lanling waved her hand dismissively, turned away with a sigh of grievance, and said, “Forget it, I can’t rely on you for anything. I can’t stand staying here any longer. You can face your Auspicious Cloud Tribulation on your own.” With that, she lay down sideways on the stone bed.

That night, the air was cool as water. Zhuo Hua tossed and turned, unable to sleep, his mind filled with thoughts of how he would survive alone in this desolate, miserable place once Lanling left. “Hmph! It’s just a table, after all! I’m about to face the Auspicious Cloud Tribulation—surely I can manage to make a table?” With that, he vanished into the moonlight.

He lay motionless in a thicket for two hours, eyes fixed on a herd of Golden Martial Mountain-moving Beasts ahead.

Once grown, these creatures were as large as small mountains, with long, thick horns protruding from their snouts and four powerful legs. When threatened or enraged, they would charge with such force that even a boulder ten fathoms high could be sent flying.

Their hides were tough, impervious to ordinary blades. Only by trapping one with a Boundless Net and waiting until it was exhausted could it be subdued using a talisman spell.

Zhuo Hua had secretly read the elders’ strange tales in the Pavilion of Martial Arts. According to their records, though these beasts were unremarkable in appearance, they were creatures in tune with the world’s spirit. Their horns contained a mysterious power that, if harnessed with the right incantation, could be made to shrink or expand at will. If one of these beasts was captured and smelted together with Aurum Stone to make a table or platform, not only could it be reshaped by thought, but it would also instantly attract nearby spiritual energies and become utterly indestructible.

The group before Zhuo Hua appeared to be a family: five or six adults as large as mountains, and a dozen juveniles about the height of a grown man. For his purpose, a juvenile would suffice.

Given his current cultivation, Zhuo Hua could protect himself or escape even if all the beasts attacked at once. But to steal away a single young beast from among them was as difficult as passing the Auspicious Cloud Tribulation itself.

Moreover, these beasts were fiercely protective of their young—if discovered, they would chase him to the ends of the earth.

Just as Zhuo Hua was at a loss, he spotted a bush bearing orange fruit. Delighted, he recognized the fist-sized fruit as the Phoenix Arrival Fruit—a sweet, refreshing delicacy and the favorite of the Mountain-moving Beasts.

Excited, he gathered a full pouch of the fruit and crept toward a young beast at the edge of the herd, quietly tossing a fruit near it.

The drowsy juvenile sensed something, opened its eyes, and, spying the fruit, snorted, gobbling it in a single bite. Hearing another fruit land not far away, it trotted over and swallowed that one too.

In this manner, half an hour later, Zhuo Hua looked up to find the herd had wandered out of sight. He drew the Boundless Net from his belt and cast it into the air. Startled, the young beast tried to flee, but it was too close—caught fast in the net, it thrashed desperately, but the net held it firm.

After another half hour, the beast lay on the ground, sides heaving, too exhausted to move. Zhuo Hua fished a Sun-fixing Talisman from his pack, channeled his energy, recited the spell, and drew the little beast into his pouch.

Next was the search for Aurum Stone, which proved much simpler. Zhuo Hua recalled a village of the Plainfolk nearby, with an Aurum Stone stele standing in its center.

He glanced up at the bright moon, thinking, “On such a night, it would be a shame not to commit some mischief.” Quietly, he slipped into the village square, where the Aurum Stone stele stood tall. It was far too large for his needs, so, after careful thought, Zhuo Hua formed his hand into a blade and struck. With his cultivation nearly at the level of the Auspicious Cloud Tribulation, he cleaved off a slab the size of a table. The sound was so loud it woke the villagers. By the time they came after him with sticks, he was already gone, vanishing into the moonlight.

From his Boundless Bag, Zhuo Hua took out his World-forging Furnace—a miraculous vessel capable of melting any ore and refining spirit beasts. He set the furnace down, recited the incantation, and the furnace reverted to its true form. He broke the Aurum Stone into smaller pieces and placed them inside, channeling his energy to heat the furnace and transmute the stone into Aurum Gold.

After about two hours, the sky began to pale in the east. Satisfied that the transformation was complete, Zhuo Hua stopped, placed the subdued beast beside the furnace, and opened the dragon-head spout below. The molten Aurum Gold flowed out, coating the Mountain-moving Beast.

Another half hour passed. Dawn had fully broken, and the Golden Martial Mountain Table had cooled. Zhuo Hua reckoned Lanling would soon wake, so he packed up and set off for home.

Back at the cave, he found Lanling still lying on her side, just as he’d left her. He quietly placed the new table beside her, then went to his own spot and lay down to sleep.

He had no idea how much time passed before he was startled awake by Lanling’s cry of surprise, followed by delighted cheers—and then a kick to wake him. Rubbing his eyes, he looked at Lanling, who was grinning mischievously, her fragrance floating around him as she leaned over.

“Zhuo Hua, what were you up to in the middle of the night without me?”

“Nothing at all,” Zhuo Hua lied.

Lanling feigned disappointment, pointing at the table. “So, this table isn’t a gift from you? Well then, it shouldn’t be here—I ought to toss it out.”

Zhuo Hua scrambled up, blocking her way. “Wait! I spent the whole night making that table. Please, don’t just throw it away. I even had to break off a piece of the villagers’ stele in the middle of the night and nearly got beaten up by a mob…”

Suddenly, Lanling pushed Zhuo Hua against the cave wall, silencing him with her lips. The world seemed to vanish; time itself froze, and everything was lost in a white blur. He didn’t know how long it lasted before Lanling pulled away, her lips leaving his. In an instant, she was laughing and circling the table, then stopped, looking up at him.

“Zhuo Hua, do I need to use my own blood to cast a binding spell?” Zhuo Hua, still dazed, nodded dumbly.

Lanling hurried to his side, pulled a dagger from his clothes, and pricked her fingertip. Drops of crimson blood fell onto the stone table as she chanted the spell, binding the table to herself—it would recognize only her blood and heed only her command. “Zhuo Hua, shall we call it the Gathering Immortal Platform?”

“Yes, yes—whatever you say,” he replied.

The southern breeze once more caresses the river’s edge, the world in turmoil, yet who can sense the chill?

When will this restless, hurried life end? The beauty remains, and the peach blossoms still smile as before.

—From the Collected Poems of Lanling