Chapter Thirty-One: Seeking Treasure in the Southern Lands

The Nine Myriad-Fathom Primordial Pillar, the Divine Mountain of Buzhou, had watched over the desolate land since the dawn of creation, silently supporting the world throughout the ebb and flow of its history. Now, a blue figure dared to defy all the heavens, to go against fate itself, ascending the ninety-thousand-fathom heights of Mount Buzhou.

One thousand fathoms, three thousand, five thousand, ten thousand...

The blue figure soared ever higher, unstoppable, swearing to reach the very heavens, flying toward the summit of Buzhou. This sacred mountain, once the spine of Pangu himself, was saturated with his omnipresent will. Under its majesty, for any being of the primordial world to ascend Buzhou was to face a trial with each step, every pace a new threshold. Since the beginning of time, no creature had ever reached the ten-thousand-fathom mark. Even the Dragon Lord of the Eastern Sea, hailed as the mightiest of the primordial age, had managed only a little over nine thousand fathoms.

Yet today, this legend was mercilessly shattered by the blue figure.

Rising ever higher, the blue form finally stopped at thirty thousand fathoms, turned, and headed into the heart of Buzhou.

No one could say how long the blue figure flew before finally alighting in a secluded mountain valley shrouded in clouds. As the blue radiance faded, a youth of three fathoms’ height appeared. The moment he emerged, his divine body weakened, he collapsed to the earth in unconsciousness.

This youth, with a noble and heroic face, wore azure armor; his flowing blue hair trailed across the ground. Even so, though regal and imposing as he lay insensible, a shadow lingered between his brows—an air of somber gloom.

With each labored breath, the mountain’s solidified spiritual energy—white and lustrous like jade—slowly melted, transforming into a vapor that flowed, like a gentle breeze, into his body. Gradually, his pallid complexion and frail form, nourished by abundant spiritual essence, returned to normal, once more aglow with blue light. Even the gloomy air between his brows slowly dissipated.

Time passed. At last, the youth’s eyes fluttered open—brilliant, pure, mysterious, and deep as the ocean. Suddenly, the blue glow about him intensified. An unseen force lifted him to his feet. His enigmatic blue gaze swept the surroundings; he walked deeper into the valley, curiosity in his voice: “Is this where my fortune awaits?”

Indeed, this blue-haired, blue-eyed youth was none other than Nan Luo, whose name had just shaken the world, stirring the winds and clouds of the age.

After intimidating the mighty of all races with the lingering awe of Pangu’s will, Nan Luo had no choice but to flee swiftly to Mount Buzhou. Yes, he was fleeing.

His battle with Black Earth had drained him of all divine power. At that time, had any great clan set upon him, Nan Luo could only have surrendered. That was one reason he had borrowed the might of Pangu to cow the powerful before his departure. Only fear and uncertainty could keep the clans from hunting down one of the Primordial Gods like himself. Another reason: to make his name resound, to shake the world, and officially step onto the primordial stage. As the future leader of the Divine Clan, he could not remain unknown; he needed to be a god all beings looked up to, so that he might one day command the divine and attract heroes to his cause.

And in the heart of the world, at the pillar of heaven itself, to make his name upon Buzhou was the swiftest path to renown. Such brazen and arrogant action would also draw the gaze of many Primordial Gods. If only he could become a Divine Lord, possessing a true foundation—then, at the founding of the Divine Clan, the other Primordial Gods would flock to him. Meanwhile, he could also gauge the various races’ attitudes toward a God such as himself, laying groundwork for the Divine Clan’s future.

For one at Nan Luo’s level, no action was ever truly simple. In the end, all his ambitions would come to nothing unless he reached the Divine Lord’s realm.

Thus, guided by fate, he followed the call, borrowing the awe of Pangu’s will to ascend easily and smoothly to thirty thousand fathoms of Buzhou. By his own strength, he could have reached little more than eight thousand. Thirty thousand—the very thought was madness, a daydream.

By his own reckoning, below ten thousand fathoms was the domain of those beneath the Divine Emperor; above ten thousand, only those of the highest power could tread. Only by harnessing the might of Pangu’s will or a supreme primordial treasure could one cross beyond this boundary. Nan Luo did not fly or teleport, but walked step by step into the valley—not because he wished to, but because he could not fly at all.

Mount Buzhou, as the world’s pillar, was a land of utmost spiritual abundance, its energy solidified into white jade. Such abundance meant unbreakable stability of space. Furthermore, with Pangu’s will present everywhere, ordinary beings would find every step nigh impossible, each pace an ascent to a new sky.

Yet the bodies of Primordial Gods were powerful enough to allow flight—barely. Still, Nan Luo was now at thirty thousand fathoms, a place no living thing dared enter. Without Pangu’s will to shield him, even he would have been crushed by its pressure. So he had no choice but to press on slowly, step by step, into the valley.

After enduring untold hardship to reach the heart of the vale, Nan Luo was startled to find the overwhelming pressure had vanished without a trace. He could no longer keep up the pretense of divine dignity, collapsing to the ground, gasping for breath.

Only after recovering some measure of strength did he rise and survey his surroundings. Deprived of divine power and unable to unleash his senses, he could only rely on his piercing blue eyes. The valley was not large, a mere ten miles across, forever springlike, blanketed in rare blossoms and grasses. At its deepest point, a small waterfall fed a clear pool.

Though his divine power was sealed, with the robust body of a Primordial God, Nan Luo soon reached the lake. The sound of water splashing filled his ears as he scooped up the clear water and drank deeply.

“To think this lake water is spirit water as well!” he exclaimed, feeling his body swiftly absorb the lake’s energy.

“But where is my fortune?” he muttered, scanning the small valley, yet finding nothing. Again and again, his deep blue eyes searched the vale, but to no avail.

“It can’t not be here,” he thought, puzzled. “What have I missed?” Suddenly, he looked up at the waterfall, narrowing his eyes, and realized he could not see through it at all.

Even without divine power, as a Primordial God, his blue eyes should still have some power of sight. Yet now, he could not penetrate even a small waterfall. Clearly, some mysterious force was blocking his vision.

“At last, I’ve found it,” Nan Luo murmured, his eyes shining as he gazed at the falls, an unbidden smile spreading across his face.