A tremor, brief yet far-reaching beyond mortal ken, pulsed through the astral plane. In that instant, every unclaimed treasure touched by the crimson aura shuddered violently, as if awakened from an age-long slumber.

Across the myriad cultivation stars swept by the ruddy light, few understood its true origin. Most, steeped in ignorance, attributed the sky’s crimson blush to the recurring celestial phenomenon that graced the heavens every five millennia, each weaving their own fanciful tales.

Only a handful of Grand Magisters, their minds attuned to the ebb and flow of cosmic energies, recognized the source of the vermillion glow. They knew, with a chilling certainty, that the Eastern Sea Demon Spirit Gate, beyond the celestial sphere of Tianyun, had been breached.

The crimson tide surged, but this was not its end; rather, a mere prelude to the unfolding drama.

After a momentary pause, the vermillion radiance pulsated once more, this time not outward, but retracting inward with furious speed. Like the receding tide, its momentum was irresistible, drawn back towards the Eastern Sea of Tianyun by an unfathomable, arcane force.

Were it merely the retreat of the red light, it would be a spectacle enough. But along with it, swept back into the abyssal portal, were countless treasures: potent artifacts, shimmering spirit stones, ancient jade scrolls, and celestial jade of unparalleled purity. Even strange, otherworldly beasts, and powerful astral entities that dwelled within the void were pulled into its wake.

Ensnared within the crimson embrace, these spoils of the cosmos were drawn back with unimaginable speed, accompanied by a resounding thunder that echoed through the stars.

Though slightly slower than the initial spread of the aura, the rate of withdrawal was nonetheless astounding. From another vantage point, one could observe that from the Eastern Sea Demon Spirit Gate of Tianyun, a vast and boundless domain was experiencing a celestial ebb tide, swiftly pulling back the crimson light.

The aura pierced through space, traversed the star fields, and traversed the cultivation stars. It pierced through all matter, as if distance held no dominion over it. A mere three incense sticks of time passed before the cultivators near the Eastern Sea Demon Spirit Gate witnessed, on the distant horizon, the approach of a crimson wave, like a rampaging army of scarlet steeds.

This wave, circular in form, crashed towards the Eastern Sea Demon Spirit Gate, drawing ever closer.

Wang Lin’s pupils contracted sharply as shock washed over him. The initial surge of the tide had already tested the limits of his comprehension, but the sight of the converging crimson wall sent a shiver down his spine. He exhaled deeply, attempting to steady his racing heart.

Indeed, Wang Lin was not alone. Many cultivators witnessing the opening of the Eastern Sea Demon Spirit Gate and the ensuing celestial tide for the first time were overcome with awe. Some were completely lost in the spectacle, their very connection to the Dao, the path to transcendence, severed by the sheer magnitude of the event.

The crimson tide, a distant red shimmer moments before, swept past in a rushing torrent. It passed through the bodies of the cultivators, the very air around them seeming to tremble with its passage.

At the same time, jade scrolls, spirit stones, celestial jade, mystical artifacts, and countless other treasures of immense value hurtled past, carried within the crimson current.

Even gargantuan beasts, skeletal remains of colossal monsters, and massive, ancient war machines were swept along. Each item, however, was enveloped in the crimson aura, which possessed an arcane property that rendered them intangible. The treasures passed directly through the bodies of the onlookers, causing no physical harm.

It was as if the world had become a dream, a phantasmagorical illusion.

Wang Lin watched, transfixed, as a monstrous beast with a single horn and crackling with black lightning, its power rivalling that of an Ascendant cultivator, thundered past, its massive form passing directly through his own body at an impossible speed.

As the creature vanished, Wang Lin inhaled sharply. He spun around, his eyes like twin stars, meticulously scanning the departing crimson current, cataloging every treasure that came into his view.

“Celestial Gold Ore… Quintessence Dew… Inkstone… Spirit Rhino Horn…” Wang Lin’s heart pounded in his chest as he recognized the materials. These were all exceptional components for forging weapons, whispered about in the ancient memories of the God Tu Si!

“And… that… that is…” Wang Lin’s gaze locked onto a distant shape in the crimson current. He beheld a greatsword, immense as a gate, shimmering with gold but marred by patches of rust and signs of ancient damage. Broken in places, it streaked past and disappeared into the red tide.

Wang Lin’s eyes blazed with renewed intensity.

He glanced at his fellow cultivators, each with their own desires. Some were fixated on the myriad treasures hurtling past.

The celestial tide was nearing its end, but then, without warning, another red wave erupted from the horizon.

This wave was faster than its predecessors, and it crashed into them in a flash.

The countenance of Tian Yunzi, who had always been serene, suddenly shifted at the wave’s appearance. He turned his gaze toward the quickly approaching red energy.

The Sword Saint Ling Tianhou’s eyes burst with an indescribable light, and his eyes stared intently into the rapidly sweeping red wave.

At that moment, many old figures rushed out with incredible speed, their presence practically unseeable.

These were the renowned old monsters of Tianyun Star, their purpose here had been to bring the younger generations to learn, but now, seeing the additional wave and the objects within, they all broke out as if they had suddenly regained tens of thousands of years of youth.

This shocking sight caught everyone’s attention. Wang Lin gazed intently at the approaching surge.

The surge moved with incredible speed, and in an instant, it seemed to pass through the bodies of many monks and recede toward the entrance of the Eastern Sea Demon Spirit Gate.
The crimson streak defied simple swiftness. More unsettling was its ability to repel prying senses, to blind curious gazes. All forms of arcane inquiry, any spell or art attempting to pierce its depths, met with utter rejection. The secret held within remained obscured, causing even the Celestial Fortune’s heir, Ling Tianhou, and others of his stature, to pale with apprehension.

The instant Wang Lin’s divine sense brushed against the crimson aura, he felt as though he had entered a labyrinth of the mind. His consciousness began to unravel, and only by severing the connection with brutal haste did he avoid crippling injury.

Around him, other cultivators fared worse. Many gasped, faces drained of color. Some coughed crimson, their eyes dimmed, the price for their tardiness in retreating from the encroaching energy.

“Desist from using your minds, whelps! This is not a sight for your callow eyes!” A raspy voice echoed through the throng, belonging to a wizened elder of considerable renown.

As the wave of crimson energy threatened to dissipate into the distant Eastern Sea, Wang Lin’s eyes sharpened. Upon his brow, three ethereal wisps of grey materialized, swirling madly to form intricate, arcane sigils that pulsed with a soft, unearthly light.

The sigils seemed to melt into his skin, flowing downwards to encircle his eyes in a network of shimmering lines. The moment this circuit was complete, Wang Lin’s eyes erupted with a brilliance akin to twin moons, casting shafts of pure light half a foot in length.

His gaze, now imbued with celestial power, became capable of cleaving through reality itself. It pierced the void, chasing after the fading crimson streak, cleaving through resistance with implacable force, determined to unveil its secrets.

He would see what lay within, no matter the cost!

Wang Lin’s gaze plunged into the crimson heart, stretching endlessly. He was met with an infinite expanse of red, and an alien power that sought to invade his sight, to inflict agonizing stabs that echoed within his very being.

His eyes burned, tears streaming down his face, mingled with streaks of fresh blood.

He grit his teeth, a primal roar escaping his lips. The sigils around his eyes intensified, emitting a dense grey mist that, rather than dissipating, condensed into threads, burrowing directly into the pupils.

In the blink of an eye, Wang Lin’s eyes became a swirling vortex of crimson and grey.

Fortified, his gaze surged forward with renewed vigor, tearing through the layers of red, smashing against the enigmatic forces that hindered his progress.

Finally, as the crimson faded into the depths of the Eastern Sea and the Demon Spirit Gate, Wang Lin’s sight shattered through the last barrier, revealing the object that had stolen the color from faces like Celestial Fortune’s.

It was a token!

A gleaming, golden token, etched with arcane runes.

The instant he beheld the token, a torrent of blood gushed from his eyes, and an unimaginable agony gripped his mind. Wang Lin slammed his eyes shut, reeling from the experience.

When he dared to open them again, the crimson wave had vanished beyond the Demon Spirit Gate.

Now, his eyes were laced with a web of crimson veins, but strangely, within those veins flickered threads of grey. His gaze now possessed an unsettling, otherworldly quality.

Across the distance, the woman Yao Xixue, seated upon her blood-red jade throne, glanced casually at Wang Lin. But the instant she met his gaze, she recoiled, her face ashen. She bowed her head hastily, a tempest raging within her soul!

“That look… Now I understand why Father bade me watch him…”