The news that Chi Li Mu possessed the aptitude of an Immortal Child spread through the entire village in no time, plunging everyone into overwhelming joy.
White Dog Village had survived all these years not because of its hunting team, nor because of its white dogs—but because someone from the village had once entered Skull Mountain and become a cultivator.
To become a cultivator, one had to possess immortal roots. Such talent was exceedingly rare. Each year, Skull Mountain dispatched envoys to inspect the eighteen villages under its jurisdiction, and one of their most important tasks was to search for children with immortal aptitude.
It had been more than sixty years since Man Xiong Mu had been discovered to possess immortal roots. In those entire six decades, not a single child with such talent had appeared in White Dog Village.
In truth, this was the norm.
Even a massive village like Red Blood Village, with over a thousand inhabitants, would—by common logic—struggle to produce even one person with immortal roots in a century.
The fact that Red Blood Village currently had three people cultivating on the mountain was an extreme rarity.
Within the thousand-li radius governed by Skull Mountain lay eighteen villages. The smallest was White Dog Village, while the largest exceeded ten thousand people. All eighteen combined amounted to roughly one hundred thousand souls.
Such a vast land, yet so few people—the fundamental reason was simple.
Survival in this savage wilderness was too difficult.
Whether ferocious beasts or demonic spirits, any of them could bring catastrophic destruction to a village.
At its peak, White Dog Village had once held over a thousand people—until a single demon calamity had nearly wiped it out.
This was the fate of the people of the Southern Frontier.
Although Skull Mountain housed cultivators, they regarded the eighteen villages as nothing more than resources within their territory—places to recruit Immortal Children. As such, they provided only limited protection.
Only cultivators who themselves originated from these villages would offer genuine aid to the common folk.
Now, with Chi Li Mu possessing immortal aptitude, coupled with Man Xiong Mu, White Dog Village would gain far greater standing within Skull Mountain.
With two cultivators watching over them, the village was destined to enter a period of rapid growth over the coming decades.
Thus, the entire village fell into celebration.
The slaying of the near-spirit python, Man Xiong Mu's return as an inspection envoy, and Chi Li Mu's immortal aptitude—each was joyous news. Together, they sent the village into a frenzy.
Even the clan chief broke precedent and brought out his treasured ox-horn wine.
Food was scarce in the village; even corn was precious. Wine was brewed only in years of abundance, then sealed and stored in ox horns.
Yet now, the clan chief brought out every last horn of his collection, cooked the python meat, and hosted a grand bonfire celebration.
With the inspection envoy present, they no longer needed to fear the wandering spirits of a hundred beasts at night. They sang, danced, drank, and feasted freely beneath the flames.
When night fell, yin winds howled. Beastly souls roamed the land, and the roars of ferocious creatures echoed through the wilderness, inspiring terror from the depths of mortal souls.
Yet Man Xiong Mu calmly took out a small black banner, no larger than his palm, densely inscribed with blood-red runes.
With a flick of his hand, he tossed it into the night sky.
In an instant, it expanded into a massive banner suspended in midair, snapping violently in the yin wind.
The beastly spirits, upon seeing the banner from afar, immediately detoured—not daring to approach.
The villagers all witnessed this scene. Even knowing Man Xiong Mu was one of their own, many still knelt in reverence.
Such power—half immortal, half demonic—able to repel even beastly spirits. How could one not feel awe?
After a brief silence, the bonfire erupted once more into thunderous cheers, and the celebration burned hotter than ever.
Even the normally calm and rational Gu Xiong Mu drank heavily, his face flushed red.
His father had named him "Xiong" in hopes he would one day become like Man Xiong Mu and enter Skull Mountain.
Though he never became a cultivator, he had led the hunters and ensured his people never starved.
As the wine flowed, his eyes reddened—memories of his father surfacing unbidden.
The clan chief drank with Man Xiong Mu as well. They had been inseparable childhood friends. Since Man Xiong Mu ascended the mountain, he had descended only a handful of times—always in haste.
Only now, as an inspection envoy, could he remain in one village for an extended stay.
They drank and reminisced. The clan chief's aged face glowed red in the firelight.
"Man Xiong… this may be the last time we meet," he said softly."I am old. I can already feel the ancestors calling for me."
"But now that you are an envoy, and Chi Li has immortal aptitude… the village will surely prosper."
"I can finally rest easy…"
Man Xiong Mu stared at his childhood friend's weathered face, wanting to offer comfort—but found no words.
Birth, aging, sickness, and death were the laws of heaven.
Only those with immortal roots could seize life from fate.
Memories of carefree childhood clashed with the brutal reality of Skull Mountain. He downed a mouthful of wine and cursed softly—though even he didn't know what he was cursing.
"Drink. Just drink."
Laughter, shouting, tears, and curses—every shade of human emotion filled the village.
Even Chi Li Mu's grandfather was helped to the bonfire. Someone brought him a bamboo chair.
He sipped his wine gently, watching Chi Li Mu chase Bai Long'er around the flames, his gaze slowly growing misty.
"My child… Chi Li has immortal roots. I was always afraid—if I died while she was still so young, how would she survive?"
"Now… I can finally let go."
He drank in small sips, his face growing red, as though he had returned to his youth.
He looked at Man Xiong Mu, the clan chief, the drunken Gu Xiong Mu, Chi Li Mu and Bai Long'er, the villagers, the roaring bonfire—
And murmured softly:
"How wonderful…"
"This wine… is truly good…"
The night passed in wild celebration.
Many drank themselves into stupor—not because they drank much, but because the moment itself was intoxicating.
Yet when dawn finally crept in, Chi Li Mu hugged Wu Tian and walked to her grandfather.
Her cheeks were flushed, exhaustion catching up to her. She tugged at his clothes.
"Grandpa… Grandpa, I'm tired. Let's go home…"
She called again and again.
There was no response.
Curled in her arms, Wu Tian had already sensed it through the wind.
The old man's breath was gone. His body had grown cold.
At first, Chi Li Mu didn't understand.
But when he still didn't move, realization dawned.
Silent tears rolled from her eyes, splashing onto Wu Tian's snow-white fur.
"Bai Long'er… Grandpa is just asleep, right?"
"He must be too tired. Let's take him home."
"Grandpa… you're just tired. Let's go home, okay?"
Wu Tian felt the cold tears soak into his fur. He gently rubbed his head against the girl's chest.
"Woof…"
(End of Chapter)