Chapter Thirty-Eight: Subduing the Great Roc

Yang Nan laughed heartily and brought out the Great Roc King. This gigantic bird, several yards long, landed on the ground and occupied a vast space. Bound by a restrictive spell, the Roc King could no longer use its powers and could only glare helplessly as Wu Yue and Yang Nan busied themselves atop its head.

Wu Yue softly recited a spell, and the small green ring suddenly expanded, fitting securely around the Roc’s neck. The ring fastened tightly at the bird’s throat, its golden top and verdant sheen lending it a majestic appearance. The Roc shook its head left and right, striving to rid itself of the troublesome ring, but found it impossible.

Wu Yue giggled, then began to chant another incantation. The ring began to constrict gradually, and as a stream of emerald light flowed, the Roc King felt as though an invisible rope was tightening around its neck, choking it so it could hardly breathe. Wherever the green light touched, inside and out, it was as if the Roc had fallen into a thicket of brambles, a thousand needles stabbing all at once. The pain, numbness, and maddening itch nearly drove its spirit from its body.

Yet the ring was so tight around its neck the Roc King could not even cry out in agony.

When Wu Yue finally released the spell, his small eyes blinked mischievously. He glanced at the Roc’s anguished gaze and said playfully, “Hmm, it seems to be working. Uncle, I think this Roc is quite defiant. Why not let me practice a bit more? I’ve seen many spirit beasts, but rarely subdued any monsters. If this Spirit Beast Ring can tame monsters, I’ll ask Uncle Huo Lian to craft more for me in the future.” He spoke with a look of curiosity.

Yang Nan nodded, letting Wu Yue do as he pleased. Having tasted such torment, the Roc King was already terrified, but Wu Yue paid it no mind. He chanted spell after spell, tightened the ring again and again, tormenting the Roc King until it was nearly dead from pain, before finally stopping.

“Roc, how did it feel?” Wu Yue, a mere sapling standing beneath the massive bird like a bean sprout beneath a boulder, asked. The Roc, grateful for its life, cried out, “Little grandpa, I submit... I truly submit... please, no more chanting! Really, no more!!” The torture had been so cruel that even the most severe punishments of the human world paled in comparison; the Roc dared not misbehave again.

Wu Yue giggled and, after thinking for a moment, said, “Spirit beasts always beg for mercy the first time the ring is used, but if you don’t give them a harsh lesson, they’ll forget later. My White is like this—I spoiled him too much, and look how he turned out. Monsters are even fiercer than spirit beasts; perhaps I should try a few more times.” With the lesson of White’s blood fresh in his mind, Wu Yue would not show mercy to an unfamiliar monster.

The Roc King wanted to protest, but Wu Yue was swift with his incantations. The ring’s green light shone even brighter, and this time the pain was far worse than before. It was as if a thousand blades sliced his body, every feather trembling from agony, the deadly ring choking him so he could neither inhale nor exhale, nearly fainting from torment.

The Spirit Beast Ring’s restrictions came in several forms, and Wu Yue tried them all, one by one. The Roc King, subjected to this, felt as if he were in hell, suffering countless tortures, indescribably miserable.

Though his powers were formidable and his flesh tough, the ring’s soul-binding restrictions were beyond him, and he was utterly overwhelmed.

Yang Nan watched Wu Yue torment the beast, his methods practiced and precise. He wondered what achievements Wu Yue would reach once he mastered the Three Punishments and Six Paths he himself had created.

After several rounds, Wu Yue finally stopped, satisfied. The Roc King looked at him as if seeing the world’s most terrifying deity, reverence and fear unmasked, begging for mercy, unwilling ever to taste that agony again.

Wu Yue taught Yang Nan the method for controlling the ring, then rested his chin on his small hand and sighed, “Uncle, the Spirit Beast Ring can restrain him for now, but I feel there’s a big difference between monsters and spirit beasts. You use it for now, but in the future, we’ll need another solution.” Having tested the ring, Wu Yue realized that monsters, adept at transformations and magical arts, would gradually develop resistance to the ring as more spells were used. Over time, the monster would eventually break free.

After all, spirit beasts and monsters are fundamentally different—even a spirit beast, once sanctified, can shed its ring, let alone a monster.

‘Even Master Qingya never devised a complete method to control monsters. How could young Wu Yue manage it? For now, it’s enough to restrain the Roc King.’

Yang Nan, seeing Wu Yue’s pursuit of perfection, laughed and said, “If it tries to rebel again, I’ll use the Soul Control Secret like I did with the Eagle King, turning it into a puppet. Let’s see what it dares then.” He explained the Soul Control Secret in detail.

Wu Yue clapped his hands and laughed, “Uncle, that method is amazing! When I get the chance, I’ll have to learn from you. With that technique, even the fiercest monster will obey. But, that way, the monster becomes an idiot.”

He was pure-hearted, thinking that turning monsters into fools wasn’t ideal, but found nothing wrong with such a magical technique.

The Roc King, watching this uncle and nephew tormenting creatures, trembled in fear, continuing to beg for mercy. At least for now, he had no intention of rebelling—neither the Spirit Beast Ring nor the Soul Control Secret was something he wanted to endure. He had seen the miserable fate of the Eagle King and the Horse King; Yang Nan’s strange and domineering arts filled him with dread. If he became one of those puppets, it would truly be a fate worse than death.

With the green ring around his neck, he had no choice but to obey Yang Nan, lest he suffer even more dire consequences.

Wu Yue continued, “Unfortunately, I only have one extra Spirit Beast Ring. I can’t use it on the little monkey. To forge these rings, you need Thorn Star Iron and Blue Glazed Stone. Uncle Huo Lian spent many years making eighteen Spirit Beast Rings, and now they’re all gone.”

Wu Yue raised his big eyes to look at the Primal Spirit Monkey, as if still regretting…

The Primal Spirit Monkey was very clever. Having witnessed the Roc King’s suffering, it realized that Wu Yue had designs on it as well, and shrieked in terror, leaping into Yang Nan’s hair to hide, trembling.

Yang Nan and Wu Yue, seeing even the intelligent monkey so frightened, burst into laughter. Having subdued the Roc King, Yang Nan’s interest in this little beast-tamer grew; he invited, “Why don’t I talk to Senior Brother Huo Lian and let you come with me to Spirit Beast Mountain? There are tens of thousands of monsters, hundreds of spirit beasts, all under your command if you wish.”

Wu Yue’s eyes flashed with temptation, but he shook his head and said, “Uncle Huo Lian has always treated me like his own. He’s often alone in the medicine garden and rarely speaks to others. If I leave, who will keep him company? Who will look after White? I appreciate your kindness, but I’ll stay.”

Yang Nan, seeing the deep bond between Wu Yue and Huo Lian, did not insist. He handed over a dozen spirit herbs, saying, “Work hard from now on. I’ll be leaving, but will visit again. Don’t worry about Grandmaster; just focus on your cultivation.”

Wu Yue nodded, his face resolute. “Farewell, Uncle. I’ll certainly work hard.” He and Yang Nan were well matched, both sharing an interest in taming monsters and spirit beasts. As Yang Nan prepared to leave, Wu Yue felt reluctant to part.

Yang Nan and Wu Yue conversed for a long while, and Yang Nan felt a sense of belonging to Kunlun Mountain. Though there were unpleasant people like the Li family, there were also Wu Yue, White Crane Boy, Big-Bearded Senior Brother, and Bu Xu—people who made him feel at home.

Befriend the good, defeat the wicked so they never rise again! This was Yang Nan’s principle in the world.

This time, Yang Nan did not linger. With Hun Yuan and the others, he headed straight for Purple Qi Peak. The peaks of the Kunlun Immortal Realm rose and fell, shrouded in mist, with countless disciples coming and going. Yang Nan knew none of them, but they recognized the glowing jade token at his waist and greeted him respectfully from afar; Yang Nan nodded in return.

Soon they reached the Purple Qi Hall on Purple Qi Peak. Hu Yuan was berating several steward disciples furiously; Yang Nan smiled secretly at the sight. Hu Yidao had run out of Monkey Wine thanks to White and was so desperate he was about to take up his blade to slaughter cattle. No wonder his temper was flaring—these disciples were unlucky to be scolded, but they should have watched the gates more closely.

As Yang Nan entered, Hu Yuan quickly suppressed his anger and greeted him with a smile. “Brother Yang, I knew you’d return these days, and here you are!”

“I’ve come to deliver my offerings, haven’t I?” Yang Nan replied innocently. “Why is Senior Brother so angry? Did these disciples commit some mistake?”

Hu Yuan was too embarrassed to admit he’d lashed out because he’d run out of wine, so he grinned and said, “It’s nothing. These useless fellows can’t even guard the gates properly.”

He finished, glaring at the poor disciples, who cowered in terror.

Yang Nan took out dozens of jars of Monkey Wine from his Mountain and River Ring, smiling at Hu Yuan. “Let it go, Senior Brother. Spare them. Look what I’ve brought you!”

Hu Yuan sniffed and his eyes lit up in excitement. “Monkey Wine? And thousand-year vintage? Brother, you’ve saved my life! I have no other passion but wine, and Monkey Wine is a peerless brew, worth a fortune and impossible to find!” He tugged at his beard, embraced a jar, and laughed heartily.

Yang Nan, seeing Hu Yuan’s formidable powers and his love for drink, smiled inwardly and said, “Senior Brother, since we have fine wine today, why not sit and drink together, brother to brother?”

Hu Yuan awoke from his reverie, tore his gaze from the wine jars, and barked at the steward disciples, “If not for Brother Yang’s plea, I’d have given each of you ten strokes for venting my anger. Why aren’t you stepping forward to thank him?”