Chapter 576: A Landscape Far from the Mortal World

“What was that sound?”

The calico cat turned her head, looking around the cave thoroughly, and finally set her gaze on the Daoist. For the first time in nearly half a day, she spoke up on her own initiative.

Her voice was still soft and delicate.

Outside the cave, the thunder gradually faded. Within the cave, the echoes of thunder also began to die down. The many different languages and whispers became more and more faint, increasingly muddled and indistinct, until they could barely be heard at all.

“...”

Only then did Song You withdraw his gaze. He lowered his head slightly and met the cat’s eyes, shining with firelight, and replied gently, “They were just voices from the past.”

“Whose voices?”

There was less wariness in the cat’s tone now, and more confusion.

“People from long ago,” Song You finally took a bite of his flatbread. “People like us, who once came to climb this mountain and once took shelter in this very cave.”

“Where are they now?”

“In the past.”

“The past?” The cat looked serious, tilting her head slightly, glancing left and right. “Then where did the voices come from?”

“From this cave,” Song You answered patiently. “Some places in the world have strange abilities. If there’s a thunderstorm, they can somehow record the sounds, even images, from that time. And when the next storm comes, they might replay them. If someone happens to be there at that moment, they can experience a conversation across time and weather—communicating with those who came before.”

“Mmm...”

The cat's expression remained serious as she continued to stare at the Daoist, though now there was a thoughtful look in her eyes.

“...”

Another flash of lightning streaked across the sky outside.

“Lady Calico, your voice might be left behind too. Many years from now, if someone comes here again, they might hear it,” the Daoist said gently. “Do you have anything you want to say?”

Rumble...

Only then did the thunder belatedly roll in.

“Hmm...” The cat thought for a moment. “I don’t know...”

“Right now, you’re a bit silly.”

“I’m

not

silly!”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“I’m very smart!” the calico cat said seriously. “It’s just that my head feels empty, and I don't know what to say!”

“That’s fine too.”

“Fine...”

“Why don’t you get some rest, Lady Calico? You’ve had a hard day. Get a good sleep and restore your energy. Tomorrow, if the storm clears, we’ll get up early and climb straight to the summit—if it’s possible to reach.”

“Okay...”

The fire crackled softly in the cave.

Thunder rumbled on and off in the distance, accompanied by those faint and fluctuating whispers within the cave, still hard to make out. Perhaps crossing time was always difficult for such sounds. Only when lightning flashed outside would they briefly swell, becoming a little clearer.

The Daoist had finished his flatbread, even eaten half a candied melon. Now he sat cross-legged with his back against the wall, closing his eyes to meditate.

No one knew how tall or how ancient this sacred mountain was. For hundreds, maybe thousands of years, it had been revered by the people who lived below. The spiritual energy within was ancient and sacred—and carried a bone-chilling cold.

And now, in his ears, echoed voices just as ancient. Combined with the mountain's aura, it felt as though Song You could travel back in time, witnessing those who had come here before him, resting in this very cave. A few simple sentences, a handful of syllables, were enough to reveal their personalities.

Some were pure and openhearted, climbing only for the sake of reaching the summit. Some were disheartened and despairing, having come here seeking death. Some were lost and aimless, searching for redemption or enlightenment. And some had very clear goals—seeking the glacial spiritual resonance hidden in the mountain.

Today was

White Dew

—the solar term.

The sacred mountain had granted Song You a taste of its ancient charm, and the wind and snow were all blocked outside.

The next morning, the world outside was utterly still.

𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

So still that there wasn’t a single sound—not the chirp of a bird, not the roar of a beast, not the rustle of wind, nor the patter of snow. Even the subtle background noise that usually accompanied nature had vanished. Everything had been absorbed by the snow.

What Song You felt now was a silence more terrifying than last night’s raging storm.

And yet... it felt peaceful.

The Daoist rose in silence.

He lit the last of the firewood, took the pot, and stepped outside the cave. The cold outside was sharp and piercing. He filled the pot to the brim with snow, brought it back in, and set it over the fire to melt. Then he began packing their things.

Lady Calico the cat was curled up on the mat, right in the center of the sun pattern. Hearing the rustling, she merely lifted her head slightly and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Once he was nearly done, she finally got up, stretched out on the mat, let out a yawn, shifted into a new position, and said in a soft, kittenish voice:

“Last night, in the beginning, the wind was all

woo-woo-woo

, and then later, there wasn’t a sound!”

“That’s because the wind and snow stopped.”

“The wind and snow stopped...”

“Did you sleep well?”

“I’m awake now.”

“Was it cold last night?”

“My fur is

very

thick!”

“Looks like you’ve recovered a bit.”

“Recovered a bit...”

“But there’s still a long way from here to the summit. The air up there is very thin, the slope is steep, the climb is exhausting. Once we reach the top, we’ll probably feel even dumber. You should be prepared.”

“I’m very smart.”

“Of course.”

The snow in the pot had melted, and small bubbles were beginning to rise along the rim.

The cat continued lying on her side, watching him. Her fluffy tail swayed gently, thumping the mat as she said, “You sat all night last night!”

“That’s right.”

“Why didn’t you lie down? Curl up? It’s really comfy!”

“I was cultivating.”

“Cultivating...”

“This was a rare opportunity for cultivation.”

“Did it work?”

“I gained a lot.”

“I want chicken...”

“After we go down the mountain.”

The Daoist poured himself a bowl of hot water and held it in his hands. As the heat spread from the bowl, his hands—red from the cold after all his busy work—gradually warmed up.

At this altitude, the snow was incredibly clean, and the water it melted into was crystal clear. Song You had originally planned to soften some flatbread in the hot water, but in the end, he simply tore it into pieces and tossed it into the pot to cook into a thick porridge.

As the aroma of wheat began to rise, he added some dried meat and raisins he’d brought in his bedroll—and also had to stop Lady Calico the cat, who, holding her dried mouse meat in her mouth, was clearly intending to throw it into the pot too. And just like that, a steaming hot breakfast was ready.

In a place like this, it was nothing short of a luxury.

The Daoist had a large bowl, the cat a small one, and the swallow picked at bits of meat scraps. After eating, warmth returned to their bodies, and their energy rose.

Once the meal was finished and things tidied up, Song You left the pack and the horse—unsuitable for mountain climbing—in the cave. He only brought Lady Calico’s pouch, filled it with some food and water, and, leaning on his bamboo staff, set off once more.

Today's goal: reach the summit.

Outside, the weather was exactly as hoped—calm winds, clear skies after the snow. The entire world had been reduced to two colors: sky blue and snow white. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, a perfect, unbroken expanse with only the white sun hanging over the horizon. Nearby, the earth was buried in deep snow covering the entire mountain; in the distance, a rolling sea of clouds completely obscured the land below.

The cat kept turning her head, glancing into the distance. Each breath became a puff of white mist.

As they walked, a trail of footprints marked the untouched snow behind them.

Even though Lady Calico had just experienced yesterday how hard and exhausting climbing here could be—how unbearable the altitude sickness had felt—she still couldn’t resist her playful nature. It was as if she’d forgotten all of it overnight. She now leapt about in the snow from time to time, springing up high and then diving down suddenly, as if something—perhaps a mouse or a rabbit—were hiding beneath the snow that she had to catch.

The Daoist saw her antics, but didn’t stop her.

After a while, once the cat had had her fun, she finally settled down and began following him obediently up the mountain.

Just like yesterday, the Daoist’s climb was far more grueling than that of others. And it wasn’t just because this section was higher, steeper, and had deeper snow. It was because the sacred mountain was deliberately making things harder for him, allowing him to feel, even just a little, what an ordinary mortal experienced when attempting a climb like this.

The Daoist still didn’t resist it.

To do so would have been rude—and pointless.

But today was different from yesterday. Yesterday they had only reached the base of the summit. Today, they were aiming to

ascend

it.

The slope underfoot steepened noticeably.

And the change was dramatic.

They hadn’t climbed far before Song You’s body leaned forward sharply, nearly doubling over as he walked. At times, the snow reached his waist. The slope itself was already daunting, and every step required pushing through thick snow and overcoming intense resistance.

And the higher they climbed, the steeper it became.

Sometimes, he had to use both hands and feet to continue.

And this was after choosing the best possible route.

Much of the summit of the sacred mountain was completely unclimbable—so steep it was nearly vertical, or even overhanging. Snow couldn’t even settle on it. It was nothing but bare stone, and without using spells, climbing it would be almost impossible. That was why it was crucial to find a relatively gentler route—at least one that allowed for basic ascent.

The Daoist had chosen the southern ridge. This path was longer, but in exchange, relatively gentler.

Even so, the difficulty far exceeded his expectations.

With no established trail and snow covering everything, it was hard to tell where to go.

One cannot see the true face of the sacred mountain while within it.

As the Daoist walked, he would often stray off course, sometimes even ending up at a dead end and being forced to turn back. On a mountain this high, where every step drained tremendous strength, such detours were sheer torment.

There were no paths left behind by those who came before. Even though he tried to find the gentlest route, there were still extremely steep sections with nothing to hold or step on. Unlike Yunding Mountain, there were no iron chains linking the way. The Daoist could only climb by hand while also carrying a cat and a swallow.

The higher he went, the narrower the ridge became. And walking along it became increasingly dangerous.

At times, the snow beneath his feet would shift and collapse. Other times, the ice would crack underfoot.

More than once, the Daoist teetered on the edge of danger—only his quick reflexes and unshakable calm saved him. Fearlessness bred composure, and it was this that let him escape each peril.

In the end, he still held many advantages.

“Almost there...”

The Daoist looked ahead at the summit of the sacred mountain—now just a small sharp peak in the distance. He knew that even this short stretch would be a brutal climb at this altitude, and fraught with danger. But still, he turned his head and said to the cat and the swallow behind him, “We’re almost at the top.”

The cat no longer had any strength left. She only lifted her head to glance at him, said nothing, and silently trudged on.

Her entire body was buried in the snow.

The swallow, too, remained silent.

He had never been suited for running or climbing to begin with, but after hearing what the Daoist said yesterday—that even mortals could climb this mountain—he gritted his beak and pushed forward, unwilling to give up.

They walked, rested, then walked again.

At this point, they had to stop and rest every ten

zhang

or so. They made a bit more progress.

Thankfully, today the weather was fair—no wind, not even a breeze. In the vast silence of the world, the only sound was the Daoist’s labored breathing. Otherwise, on this ridge, even just staying upright and not being blown off would have taken everything they had.

The summit was now in sight.

“We’re almost there. Lady Calico, Yan An. Let’s take one last break. Then gather all your strength. With one final push, we’ll reach the top. After that, we can finally relax.”

The Daoist paused for the final time and spoke to the two little spirit beasts behind him.

Naturally, there was no reply.

The Daoist was in no rush. He took out a piece of flatbread from his robes—warmed by his body heat—and placed it in his mouth, letting it soften with saliva and warmth before swallowing. It served as a bit of strength replenishment. After resting for quite a while more, he finally prepared to move again.

“Let’s go.”

But behind him, there was no sound at all.

He had barely taken two steps before stopping again and turning to look.

The cat had completely run out of strength. She lay flat in the snow, her body sinking into it, forming a shallow hollow. Her eyes were half-open, weakly staring at him, her mouth slightly ajar, but not a sound came out.

The swallow was perched beside her, glancing at the cat, then at the Daoist—just as utterly exhausted.

“...”

“Need to rest a little longer?”

“...”

The cat didn’t even have the strength to speak. She simply used her eyes to tell him to go on ahead alone—she would sleep here and wait for him.

It seemed she truly couldn’t go on. Song You couldn’t help but smile.

Without hesitation, he turned back, took two steps forward, scooped the cat up with one hand, the swallow with the other—one in each hand—and turned to continue onward. No matter how weary he was, his steps remained firm, his expression calm, just as it had always been all these years.

Using both elbows and knees, he struggled his way to the summit.

The mountaintop was sharp as a halberd—only one person could stand there. The snow was smooth and undisturbed, bearing only a single set of footprints.

The Daoist couldn’t help but plop down on the ground. Before him stretched a landscape far removed from the mortal world.