Chapter 18: Transcending Humanity, The Roar of Tigers and the Chant of Dragons

Night.

Dark clouds surged across the sky, obscuring the stars and the moon.

Mount Longhu, Carefree Abode.

Lu Yuan stepped out of the wooden cabin and glanced at the time. It was nearing midnight, and all around was shrouded in pitch-black darkness.

Little light could be seen.

But this meant little to Lu Yuan, whose physique had undergone a transformation; his strength had long since surpassed that of ordinary men. Though he could not see as far as he could by day, his vision was not much hampered. In fact, should he focus his gaze, even the tiniest insects crawling amid the grass would have nowhere to hide.

“It’s about time,” he murmured, casting his eyes toward the site of the Nameless Stele.

Tonight, he was going to move the stone and place it in his car.

There was no other way. Mount Longhu had strict rules—many things could not be taken away. Although the Nameless Stele appeared to be nothing more than a simple stone, he was not willing to risk attracting attention.

With that thought, Lu Yuan walked over to the stele.

It reached about up to his knee, its surface smooth and gleaming. He estimated it weighed no less than three or four hundred catties—something an ordinary person could never lift. Yet, in his grasp, he hoisted it with ease, one-handed, barely feeling its weight.

Now, all that remained was to carry it down the mountain.

As the saying goes, it is easier to climb up a mountain than to descend, especially when burdened with several hundred catties. Even a group of strong men would have to tread the winding path with utmost caution, or risk disaster.

But Lu Yuan was not one to follow the beaten path.

“It’s time to put this body to good use,” he chuckled, fetched a few vines to secure the stele to his back, and surveyed his surroundings.

Without the slightest hesitation, he bent his knees and sprang high, leaping from a large boulder.

The drop below was at least several dozen meters—equivalent to the height of a three- or four-story building.

For an ordinary man, such a leap would mean certain death or at least shattered legs. But Lu Yuan landed with a thunderous crash...

The stone beneath his feet cracked under the force, fissures spreading rapidly, threatening to shatter, but he did not pause. He pressed on, bounding like an ape across the jagged rocks and perilous terrain of Mount Longhu.

Bristling thorns and tangled undergrowth abounded, a landscape impassable for men—but to his eyes, they were nothing.

Lu Yuan’s skin was tough as leather; a blade would leave only a faint mark, let alone thorns.

In the dim, silvery light of the obscured moon, a lone figure darted across the cliffs, each landing sending clouds of dust into the air and shattering the rocks beneath him. His power was inhuman—truly fearsome.

Thus, what would take an ordinary man over an hour to walk, Lu Yuan traversed in barely a dozen minutes, leaping from cliff to cliff, until he stood before the mountain gate.

There was his car, parked just where he had left it that morning.

After loading the Nameless Stele, a sense of relief washed over him. Tomorrow he would simply find an excuse to leave.

Lu Yuan turned to head back up the mountain.

But just then, beams of dazzling light erupted from the summit of Mount Longhu.

In an instant, rays of radiant light pierced the darkness, painting the clouds gold. The heavens blazed with golden brilliance, so intense it turned night to day for miles around—brighter than midday sun.

“What’s happening?” Lu Yuan’s heart skipped a beat.

Looking closer, he saw all the light emanated from the Celestial Masters’ Hall.

Faintly, within the radiance, two colossal shapes appeared, vast enough to blot out the sky—a white tiger and a golden dragon, standing proud and tall in the void.

From the heavens came a distant, resonant roar—the cry of a tiger, the song of a dragon.

Birds all across Mount Longhu took flight in alarm, wings flapping desperately to flee the mountain.

“Could it be... the transformation will come early?” Lu Yuan wondered as he gazed at the awe-inspiring scene.

It was like something out of myth and legend, unfolding right before his eyes.

But soon, as he tried to look more closely, the tiger and dragon rose heavenward and vanished. The light faded, and everything returned to stillness, as if nothing had ever happened.

“It’s not the transformation yet, but something significant has happened at the Celestial Masters’ Hall,” Lu Yuan murmured, then, without further thought, began his ascent.

With no one around, he let loose, covering dozens of meters with each stride.

In less than twenty minutes, he was back at Carefree Abode.

Feigning nonchalance, he lay down to rest.

He knew the Celestial Masters’ Hall would surely react to tonight’s events.

“Tai Mountain and Mount Jiuhua have both witnessed omens. Mount Longhu, as a central seat of Taoism, would naturally follow—just a little later. All of this is but a prelude to the coming transformation. When the day arrives, everything will change; a new era will dawn.”

Lying on his bed, Lu Yuan pondered, recalling many things from his past life.

He also understood that, apart from the Nameless Stele, Mount Longhu held many sacred items and powerful inheritances. Only with such treasures could it hold its place in the new age and command such importance. If he moved carefully and patiently, he was sure to find many wonders.

Yet time was short, and even if it weren’t, there were few means of searching. The Celestial Masters’ Hall was shrouded in mystery—like the Young Celestial Master, Pure Yang, and the master Yu Yang. Outwardly ordinary, the latter was over ninety, yet his vigor outmatched the young. Clearly, nothing about him was simple. Not to mention the venerable Old Celestial Master.

Therefore, he must act with utmost caution. At least until the transformation comes, prudence must prevail. If he attracted undue attention, trouble would surely follow. Though no longer an ordinary man, he was not yet impervious to modern weapons.

With these thoughts, Lu Yuan waited for the hours to slip by.

Soon, dawn arrived.

A young Taoist came to summon Lu Yuan to the Celestial Masters’ Hall.

Director Liu and others were there as well; none knew what was afoot, but it was clear they too had witnessed last night’s omen. They questioned the young Taoist, but the answers came to nothing; the Taoist priests said not a word regarding the events.

At last, Master Yu Yang appeared.

He first thanked Lu Yuan and his companions for their donations, promising the Celestial Masters would never forget their generosity.

Then he announced that, from this day forward, Mount Longhu would be closed; all outsiders must descend the mountain as soon as possible.

Even those with layman’s halls on the mountain were included. However, Yu Yang added that, should circumstances permit, the Celestial Masters’ Hall would provide compensation in the future—perhaps some form of protection.

This left Director Liu and the others bewildered. They were all men of some standing. Unless they engaged in unlawful acts, what need had they of protection? And even if they did, could the Celestial Masters’ Hall offer such power?

Many questions lingered, but Master Yu Yang answered gravely. When it came to last night’s omen, however, his explanation was vague, offering no real insight.

Seeing this, Lu Yuan understood that a great event linked to the transformation had taken place on Mount Longhu. But since no further information was forthcoming, there was no point in remaining.

In the end, Lu Yuan was the first to depart.

The transformation was nearly upon them; it was time to hasten his own steps.