Chapter 2:
Undying Tree
IN TAIXUAN, there were two kinds of people: common folks and cultivators. Cultivators harnessed the spiritual energy of the universe through their cultivation, hoping to gain enlightenment and ascend to the heavens.
To seek immortality was to defy the laws of nature. After a cultivator successfully established their foundation, their three ethereal souls and seven corporeal souls, which comprised their spiritual and carnal sides, would gradually fuse into a complete divine soul. Without the ethereal and corporeal souls, there would be no reincarnation or next life. If the body was destroyed and the divine soul couldn’t find a new vessel within the brief span of three breaths, it would perish.
Mo Tianliao had attained a high level of cultivation before his demise, and so of course he understood these principles. So, when a bolt of spring thunder jolted him awake after months of drifting in a daze, Mo Tianliao was flummoxed.
A divine soul separated from its body was like thin ice exposed under the scorching midsummer sun—so fragile and vulnerable that even a gust of wind could scatter it away into the air. Yet here he was, floating around with his consciousness and memories intact. He looked around. He was still within the boundaries of Mount Yanhuo, though he couldn’t discern his exact location.
Tentatively extending a wisp of his divine soul, he found himself encased by a gentle power, like an insect sealed in amber, safe and sound.
Though conscious, he was still just a translucent orb of light with no powers, so he could only float aimlessly where the wind blew among the mountains.
This went on for centuries.
By the thirtieth year since he’d regained consciousness, Mo Tianliao learned to alter the direction he drifted in using the feeble power of his divine soul. But he couldn’t go to populated areas for fear of being recognized by the powerful cultivators, so he remained around Mount Yanhuo, exploring every inch of the mountain range within a hundred miles.
On the barren heights of Mount Yanhuo, where flames burned throughout the year, there stood a huge, solitary tree. It was straight and slender and about thirty feet tall, with a solid, huggable girth. It was also devoid of branches, save for one thick branch that seemed to have been scorched. Flames always erupted on Mount Yanhuo during the fourth month and burned out by the twelfth month, so in the brief period of early spring when the peak wasn’t ablaze, tender leaves would sprout on this branch until the fire reignited.
Mo Tianliao had been refining artifacts for many years, so he could recognize precious materials at a glance. He could barely contain his elation when he saw the intense flames burning around this lone tree without ever razing it.
It was an ancient divine tree, the undying wood!
Undying meant perpetual regeneration. This divine tree could serve as a physical body!
He didn’t know where the power protecting him had come from, but since he wasn’t completely dead, he had to find and claim a suitable body as a vessel for rebirth. A child with excellent aptitude would have been fine, but even the best attributes couldn’t be compared to an ancient divine tree!
Aptitude was important for cultivation. The better the basal attributes, the fewer cultivation bottlenecks one would face, and the higher the chances of attaining immortality. The heaven attribute was the best of them. Those with this attribute absorbed natural energies the fastest and were most likely to achieve insights and enlightenment.
However, a corporeal body made of the undying tree would far surpass one naturally born with the heaven attribute. As an ancient divine tree, it was a natural spiritual entity born of the universe, so it could absorb the spiritual energies of the natural world utterly uninhibited.
Mo Tianliao circled the tree repeatedly. This was probably the world’s only undying tree, and he was reluctant to give it up. All he needed was a single bolt of heavenly lightning to strike him into it, and he could take his time to refine it into his own body.
Any other soul wouldn’t have the capability to possess a block of wood, but he was different. During those centuries of disembodiment, he’d tempered his soul to be exceptionally strong and secure, so withstanding a bolt of heavenly lightning would be a piece of cake.
Everything was in place except for that final step—Mo Tianliao now needed a bolt of lightning to strike him.
Of course, just wanting to be struck by lightning wouldn’t summon a storm. So, with patience honed by his time as a master artificer, Mo Tianliao kept watch by the divine tree, looking forward to the day lightning would come calling.
Flowers bloomed and withered; tides ebbed and flowed. His vigil lasted a hundred years.
Boom! An earth-shattering thunderclap crashed through the gray, cloudy sky. Mo Tianliao hurriedly drifted upward, narrowly missing a streak of lightning that scorched the earth barren for miles around.
The lightning he’d been waiting for had finally arrived, but it was a barrage of Mystic Thunderbolts from the Nine Heavens, which meant some unlucky soul was undergoing their heavenly tribulation. Mo Tianliao fought the urge to curse.
A heavenly tribulation was the last step in the quest for immortality. Survive the lightning, and one could attain the Great Dao and become immortal. However, not all lightning tribulations were created equally. Some were like drizzles, mere shows of formality that let the cultivator off easy, while others were relentless, earth-shattering bolts intent on striking the cultivator dead. And these particular Mystic Thunderbolts of the Nine Heavens? They clearly belonged to the latter category.
Hoping to piggyback off someone else’s tribulation, Mo Tianliao mustered whatever meager soul force he had and expended all his efforts in dodging. The heavenly lightning raged for a day and a night before it gradually weakened. Seeing his chance, Mo Tianliao gritted his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut, and threw himself onto the divine tree.