Chapter 5
“Mountain Lord?”
The term Mountain Lord usually referred to the ruler of a mountain.
When I rushed outside after hearing Dongchil’s scream, what I encountered was a massive tiger with snowy white fur — a creature that could only be described as a Mountain Lord.
A white tiger, often revered as a spiritual beast, was sitting squarely in the courtyard.
This was a situation where not just Dongchil but even his grandfather would have screamed in terror.
“A white tiger, all of a sudden?”
Where in the world had such a creature appeared from?
What was certain was that it hadn’t lived on the mountain where this manor stood.
If such a beast had lived here, there was no way I wouldn’t have noticed until now.
That means it must have come from somewhere else.
My gaze instinctively turned to the stone statue I had purchased earlier today.
The statue remained in the same place I had set it.
What caught my attention was its form.
Although badly weathered and damaged with age, it clearly bore the likeness of a tiger.
And in that moment, I understood.
“My apologies. If I had known that was your home, I would never have bought it and brought it here.”
It seemed I had made a mistake.
* * *
The white tiger had once ruled over its own domain.
But then it set its sights on cultivation, with the ultimate goal of ascending to the Immortal Realm.
Yet that path was treacherous.
Cultivation itself was difficult, but more so were the beings who sought to hinder it.
They coveted both the white tiger’s life and the fruits of its cultivation.
The tiger could have defeated them if it wished, but doing so would have meant spilling blood — and for it, shedding mortal blood during cultivation meant abandoning the path to ascension.
So instead, it would drive them off without killing.
But the interlopers never gave up; more and more came to hunt the tiger.
Eventually, its endurance reached its limits.
At that point, the white tiger met an Immortal, who told it this:
“If others have taken your home, then the answer is simple: find a new one that none can ever discover.”
And the Immortal even explained how to do so.
That had been centuries ago.
Since then, the white tiger had not stepped beyond its home, ignoring whatever happened outside.
For hundreds of years, it lived in seclusion, devoting itself solely to cultivation.
And yet, it never managed to ascend.
Now, nearly a thousand years into its life, the white tiger’s time was running out.
Its spiritual energy had begun to dwindle, and now only a faint trace remained.
Once-lustrous fur had lost its sheen.
Muscles wasted away, fangs fell loose, and its once-fearsome claws grew brittle and few.
Still, the white tiger persisted in cultivation.
Today would have been no different — had it not faintly sensed a thread of divine power.
“Could it be… the aura of that Immortal?”
It wasn’t clear. Perhaps it was just an illusion born of weakness.
“If I step outside, I’ll know.”
If the Immortal from centuries past had returned, then of course the tiger had to greet him — for that Immortal had been nothing less than a benefactor.
The tiger forced its weary legs to move and stepped outside for the first time in ages.
But what it saw wasn’t the familiar snowfields that should have surrounded its dwelling.
Instead, there stood a manor.
And where it had expected to see an Immortal, it found a young human.
It had been deceived.
An emotion long thought erased during cultivation reawakened: rage.
Its lone surviving fang bared itself, and its claws extended sharp and deadly.
Yet it did not strike.
Because the human spoke first:
“My apologies. If I had known that was your home, I would never have bought it and brought it here.”
The white tiger faltered.
“An… Immortal?”
Despite the human’s different appearance, it overlapped with the figure of the Immortal it had once met.
* * *
A home is more than shelter; it represents one’s domain.
Unintentionally, I had invaded that domain.
So apologizing wasn’t strange.
What was surprising was the tiger’s reaction.
Rather than lashing out in rage, it retracted its fangs and claws.
Its eyes gleamed.
I revised my judgment.
“So you’re not just a Mountain Lord… you’re a Mountain Spirit.”
A Mountain Spirit — also called a Land God.
A being incomparably higher than a Mountain Lord.
Mountain Lords were often little more than brutish beasts.
But a Mountain Spirit possessed wisdom rivaling that of great Daoists — and powers far beyond.
The “god” in Divine Sword wasn’t for show.
And of course, only a Mountain Spirit would have the ability to dwell inside such a statue.
“It’s been centuries since I’ve met one of your kind.”
Long ago, I’d occasionally encountered them, but not in the last three hundred years.
Memories of such meetings were mostly pleasant, so I felt an odd warmth of recognition.
“I bought your home from a street market in the nearby village. Your true dwelling must be elsewhere. If you wish, I can take you back there.”
But the white tiger gave no reply.
It simply stood tall, watching me in silence, as if deep in thought.
That was when I noticed something strange.
“Its spiritual energy… is nearly gone.”
For a Mountain Spirit, spiritual energy was the very source of life.
And the fact that so little remained meant its lifespan was nearing its end.
Even though this was our first meeting, I couldn’t help but feel pity.
I too had clung to the last threads of my own power to survive.
And since I had unintentionally wronged it, I spoke:
“If you ever wish to return home, just tell me. I will help you.”
It was all I could offer.
The tiger only stared back in silence.
I couldn’t tell what it was thinking.
Eventually, I turned away, though I still felt its gaze fixed on me.
“Somehow… I doubt it will leave so easily.”
* * *
Ten days passed in a blink.
And within that time, one joyful thing occurred.
“So the effects are finally beginning to show.”
Among the collection of ornaments I had gathered, one of them finally responded to my words.
It was a jade hairpin, which until now had only repeated, “I miss it.”
But this time, it said something different:
“I want to see it again.”
It may not sound like much, but such small changes accumulate until they become something greater.
It was worth celebrating.
On the other hand, the gray sword — the one I pinned my greatest hopes on — remained unchanged.
It seemed it would take more time.
“It really isn’t easy.”
Despite the complaint, a smile lingered on my lips.
After all, creating what others called treasures or mystic artifacts was never supposed to be easy.
That difficulty made it all the more rewarding — and exciting, wondering what the final result would be.
“Dongchil.”
When I called his name, Dongchil soon entered the room.
“Yes, young master. Did you call for me?”
“What’s the white tiger been up to?”
As expected, the tiger was still in the manor, just as I’d predicted ten days ago.
But Dongchil’s reaction was amusing.
He eagerly recounted what he had seen, spittle flying as he spoke.
“It went back inside the statue for a bit, then came out and ran outside the manor before returning. I kept an eye on it, and I noticed traces around its mouth — like it had eaten wild mountain berries! Isn’t that amazing, young master? That huge tiger, living off berries instead of hunting animals! I never imagined it!”
Dongchil had spent most of his days observing the white tiger.
Not because I asked him to, but because he wanted to.
At first, he had been terrified enough to scream.
Now, he seemed utterly fascinated by it.
“And nothing else?”
“Well… there is one thing.”
“Say it.”
“I touched its fur just a little. It was unbelievably soft.”
That surprised me.
Even the bravest would hesitate to try such a thing.
“You’ve got guts.”
Dongchil scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish.
“I-I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
But his sulking expression only made me laugh.
“No, it’s fine. If the tiger disliked it, it would have avoided you.”
No one knew how long the tiger would remain here.
I had no intention of driving it away — in fact, if it wished, I’d let it stay in the manor permanently.
Since I had unintentionally brought it here, this much was only fair.
Better Dongchil be curious than live in constant fear.
“More importantly, today we’ll go out together.”
I set aside thoughts of the tiger.
There was another reason I had called Dongchil.
But as soon as the word “outing” left my lips, his eyes wavered with unease.
“Are you worried I’ll go buy more trinkets again?”
“N-no, young master!”
But he clearly was.
And it was understandable — we had been spending money with little return.
He didn’t yet know that those “trinkets” would one day be worth their weight in gold.
Still, I didn’t bother explaining.
That wasn’t why I wanted to go out today.
“Don’t worry. We’re going somewhere different this time.”
“Somewhere different?”
“Yes. Today, we’ll visit the main family estate.”
Dongchil’s eyes widened.
No wonder — it had been three or four years since Gold Plum Gate had last gone there.
And for me, this would be the very first visit.
