The events transpired with bewildering swiftness. Before Yao Xixue could fully comprehend, three strokes of arcane power coalesced into a shimmering rune.

At the instant of its completion, the celestial energy within Wang Lin surged forth, guided by his will and channeled through his fingertip, infusing the glyph with ethereal force.

Individually, the strokes appeared unremarkable, yet in their assembled form, a sense of profound harmony resonated within Wang Lin, as if bearing the imprint of some fundamental truth woven into the fabric of existence itself.

Then, a radiant golden light, like the dawn breaking upon the world, erupted from the rune, illuminating the surroundings. Upon the platform, the swirling miasma of darkness recoiled and slowly dissipated into the ether under the radiant golden burst.

A complex mix of wonder and shock flickered across Yao Xixue’s face. Though she had traversed this path before, her visits were fleeting, a hurried dance around the stone sentinels. She’d relied on her father’s blood jade seals, employing a clever yet ultimately incomplete means of passage.

The golden runes had not escaped her notice; she had even attempted to replicate them in the air. However, never truly shattering the stone guardians, she had failed to absorb their inner essence as Wang Lin had.

As celestial energy poured into the rune, Wang Lin felt a hesitation. Though his expression remained impassive, a stark premonition arose: failure to complete the fourth stroke would shatter the perfection of the rune, leading to its ruin.

Unable to conjure the fourth stroke from the void, Wang Lin’s eyes flashed with resolve. He pressed his index finger upon the glowing rune, spun with sudden force, and with a flick of his hand, launched the incomplete sigil towards Yao Xixue.

Yao Xixue’s face paled. She retreated, her hands moving with practiced speed, drawing forth several blood-red jade talismans from her satchel and crushing them before her.

A crimson mist billowed forth, engulfing the rune in layers of blood-tinged energy. The effect was instantaneous, the sanguine light seeping into the golden glyph, dimming its brilliance.

Yao Xixue continued her retreat, beads of sweat forming upon her brow. A steady stream of blood-red talismans was flung forth, and after seven breaths, the rune’s golden light was finally extinguished, consumed by the crimson tide.

In a burst of fading blood light, the rune dissolved back into the ethereal void.

Yao Xixue’s countenance darkened. She had expended nearly a tenth of her stockpile of blood jade – an amount intended to last a century – and upon the rune’s approach, she felt as if confronted by her very sire.

“Wang Lin!” Yao Xixue clutched another blood jade tight. Once the rune was no more, she darted across the platform, directly towards Wang Lin.

Wang Lin met her gaze without flinching. As she approached, a spark of cold resolve ignited in his eyes. With a flick of his wrist, a celestial sword materialized in his hand, held defensively before him. “Fellow Daoist Yao,” he said, his tone level. “The golden rune appeared with such sudden force. I could not control it. If you seek a duel, Wang Lin is ready.”

Yao Xixue glared at Wang Lin, a flicker of murderous intent in her eyes. *If he has come this far,* she thought, *he cannot leave until the seals are broken. A duel now would waste precious time!*

“Let it not happen again!” she hissed, then swept past Wang Lin, her stride unwavering, towards the Draconic Path that led to the third seal.

Wang Lin lowered his sword, following at a measured pace. He watched Yao Xixue’s back, his mind racing.

*Three strokes, and such power! If Yao Xixue speaks true, and eighteen layers exist, then there are eighteen runes. What power would be unleashed upon the world if I could complete them all? What *are* these runes? Could they be…celestial arts?* Wang Lin drew a deep breath and sketched the three strokes into the air. Alas, this time, no celestial energy stirred within him. The rune flickered into existence only to fade, lacking the potency it possessed before.

Wang Lin frowned and pondered.

Days bled into weeks. Yao Xixue gave Wang Lin no chance to act, after experiencing the loss of two attempts, She grew more convinced her method was wrong and took control over the situation. She thought back to the circumstances that allowed Wang Lin to gain a golden rune, and realized her error.

The golden runes filled her with apprehension, thus she made sure to prevent Wang Lin from gaining any more of them, going so far as to handle all the stone statues on her own and seal them away with blood jade. This had been her method in the past, after all.

One day, after sealing the eleventh stone statue, Yao Xixue halted on the Draconic Path, gazing towards the twelfth sealed platform ahead. Her expression was serious. “Fellow Daoist Wang,” she said, her voice sharp, “The twelfth seal differs greatly from the others. We must work together to overcome it. This, fellow Daoist, is why I invited you here.”
Wang Lin nodded, his gaze sweeping across the platform before him. A stark contrast to what he had witnessed before, this platform was but half its former size, devoid of the stone effigies that once stood guard. In their stead, loomed a colossal stone gate! And around this platform, only the Dragon’s Path upon which they stood offered passage.

Upon the gate, etched in a style both ancient and imposing, were cryptic symbols intertwined, vaguely forming the semblance of a human face.

As Yao Xixue and Wang Lin landed upon the platform, the stone gate groaned, its massive form slowly creaking open. A blast of frigid wind, emanating from the depths beyond, assailed them. The moment it touched Yao Xixue, she was instantly encased in a cocoon of crimson energy.

Wang Lin, ever cautious, retreated several paces. He delved into his storage pouch and retrieved the forbidden banner. With a swift flick of his wrist, he enveloped himself in its protective shroud. The chilling wind buffeted the banner, causing it to crack and groan. Layer upon layer of frost formed instantly upon its surface, encasing Wang Lin in a thick shell of ice within the blink of an eye.

Yao Xixue, too, was transformed into a crystalline statue, though within its icy prison, a brilliant red light pulsed with fierce intensity.

As the icy gale subsided, a wisp of white mist emerged from the open gate, coalescing before it into the form of a man. He appeared to be in his early thirties, his face an impassive mask of coldness, clad in pristine white robes. His every movement possessed an ethereal grace, a hint of the divine.

He cast a frigid gaze upon the two ice statues, yet spoke no words. Instead, his voice echoed in their minds.

“Master’s sanctum. Entry is forbidden without the token.”

Within Yao Xixue’s icy prison, the crimson light intensified, radiating a palpable heat that caused wisps of vapor to rise from the ice. Almost instantaneously, the ice melted away, and Yao Xixue stepped forth, unharmed.

“You have come here countless times, wielding the forbidden arts of the Blood Sovereign,” the white-clad man spoke, his voice devoid of warmth. “Out of respect for his lineage, I have thrice spared you, allowing you to revive yourself through your forbidden powers. Yet, you remain unyielding in your ambition. This time, relinquish your pursuit and depart, or face oblivion!”

Meanwhile, Wang Lin’s icy shell began to thaw. With a composed expression, he emerged, his eyes fixed upon the two figures with a cold intensity.

The man in white robes did not deign to look at Wang Lin. His attention remained solely on Yao Xixue.

Yao Xixue inclined her head respectfully. “Senior, knowing my ancestor, why not show some leniency? This sanctum has long been abandoned. It would be a waste to leave it in such a state. Allow me to restore its former glory.”

The white-robed man remained unmoved. “Only by withstanding three of my strikes shall you prove worthy! Will you face them together, or separately?”

A flicker of calculation crossed Yao Xixue’s eyes. “We shall each face one strike, and then together, we will endure the final test!”

The man’s expression remained impassive. Without a word, he raised his right hand, pointing a single finger forward. A golden light, blazing with power, began to coalesce at the tip of his digit!

“The first! Step forth! Endure, and live. Fail, and die!”

“Wang Daoyou!” Yao Xixue turned to Wang Lin, her voice laced with urgency.

Wang Lin offered a faint smile, retreated two steps, and shook his head. “Yao Daoyou’s words ring false. I need to consider my options.”

Yao Xixue glared at Wang Lin. She had anticipated this turn of events, his likely betrayal. Her voice remained steady, devoid of emotion. “Wang Daoyou, I omitted something earlier. I hope you will not hold it against me, for it is not too late to inform you now. To enter this place, to feel the imprint of the golden sigil, is to be granted the trial. Once granted, one must succeed, or meet their doom! Believe it or not, the choice is yours!”

Wang Lin’s face darkened, his expression a storm of conflicting emotions. Finally, he looked towards Yao Xixue, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Yao Daoyou possesses the Blood Soul Pill. You fear not death. A cunning gambit!”

The man in white robes continued to observe them, his gaze unwavering.

“Aid me in entering the sanctum, and your life will be assured. All that I promised you will be fulfilled!” Yao Xixue pleaded.

Wang Lin hesitated for a moment. “The deed is done. I will play my part. But first, I must know… what is this place?”

Yao Xixue’s face broke into a dazzling smile. “This is a sanctum left behind by an immortal. My father learned of it from a demon emperor. It has been abandoned for ages, and many of its powers are lost. Only the barest sliver of the sanctum spirit remains. Only those who have achieved the ‘Ascendant Throne’ realm of power can hope to endure all three trials. Now, Wang Daoyou, please, begin!”

“Only those who have reached the Ascendant Throne realm can endure… Yet, I am but a nascent soul. Yao Daoyou overestimates me!” Wang Lin replied, his voice hard.

Yao Xixue’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold fury. “Wang Lin! If you cannot enter, I have the Blood Soul Pill, and I shall revive. But you… you will surely perish!”

At that moment, the white-robed man, who had been observing them with a cold gaze, finally spoke, his voice echoing with unyielding power. “She speaks true. If you cannot enter, both of you shall die this day. To live, you must succeed in claiming the sanctum!”

Wang Lin considered this for a long, silent moment. Then, he stepped forward. “Let the trial begin!” he proclaimed. Raising his right hand, he pointed towards the heavens. The demonic power, long suppressed within him, surged forth, instantly permeating his entire being. A dense black mist erupted from him, engulfing his body in its oppressive shroud.

To Yao Xixue, this miasma was unmistakable – demonic energy!

“He has unleashed the very same power he used against the demon general! He is giving it his all! Just as I had hoped!” Yao Xixue rejoiced, her plan proceeding flawlessly. She was well aware that Wang Lin was but a nascent soul cultivator. Even with the jade crystals she had provided, it would be impossible for him to advance beyond the middle stage in just three days.

Thus, with a middle-stage nascent soul cultivation base, even if he managed to withstand one of the golden sword strikes, he would be grievously wounded, rendering him no threat.

And she, armed with the secret methods bestowed by her father, was confident in her ability to withstand two strikes. In doing so, she would succeed in meeting the sanctum spirit’s demands!
Time and again she had come to this place, each attempt straining her every sinew, yet only twice could she withstand the trial. The third was always death.

The spectral guardian of the grotto, a man of middle years, spared a glance at Wang Lin, now enshrouded in a miasma of darkness. Without a word, he flicked his finger, and a bolt of golden light, swift as a thunderclap, hurtled towards the fallen warrior.

Wang Lin roared, his demonic essence surging to life, swirling with impossible speed as it coalesced upon the tip of his right index finger. In the blink of an eye, the dark energy that cloaked him withered, focused entirely upon that single, accusing digit.

The instant the golden lance met the point of the obsidian finger, the battle was joined.

Like a diamond-tipped drill, the golden light pierced through the demonic energies, shattering their cohesion. Yet, even in this assault, the shadows fought back, clinging to the golden shaft, consuming it even as it advanced.

Though seemingly unassuming, the golden light held immense power. Breaching the defenses of the demonic aura, it plunged straight into Wang Lin’s fingertip, coursing into his very being.

A torrent of blood erupted from Wang Lin’s mouth. As if struck by a colossal hammer, his body was flung backward, a cacophony of snapping and cracking echoing from within.

The platform, never large, now failed to contain him. Wang Lin plummeted from the stone, lost to the star-strewn void below.

The grotto guardian gazed down at the vanishing figure, then lifted his head. “The First Trial, you have overcome!” he proclaimed, his voice carrying over the abyss. “Now comes the Second!” Again, he raised his right hand, golden light coalescing at his fingertip.

Yao Xixue had anticipated Wang Lin’s grievous wounds. She cared not for his life, only for gaining entrance to the grotto. Her father’s warning against antagonizing him was a trifle, easily dismissed.

In truth, she considered Wang Lin’s status and cultivation unworthy of her attention, regardless of whatever talent he might possess.

A sweep of her divine sense confirmed his absence. Any lingering doubts evaporated.

Now faced with the guardian’s second celestial strike, she instantly reached into her storage pouch, grasping a handful of crimson jade talismans. As she did so, the golden lance erupted from the guardian’s hand, a roaring dragon of light, intent on destruction.

Yao Xixue crushed the talismans, unleashing a torrent of sanguine energy. The golden dragon was momentarily engulfed, but then it surged forth, its light dimmed but its force undiminished, and struck Yao Xixue squarely in the chest.

Her face flushed a spectral crimson, and she swallowed back a rising tide of blood. She staggered back, her gaze fixed on the unwavering guardian.

This was her fourth visit to the stone gate. She knew well that the blood talismans offered but a single defense. On the second strike, they would be useless.

Her first arrival here had been fueled by these very talismans. They had carried her through eleven platforms, lulling her into a false sense of security. The illusion shattered with the second celestial strike.

“The Second Trial is met,” the guardian declared. “Now, prepare for the Third!” Without pause, he unleashed another bolt of golden energy, leaving her no time to prepare.

Though her complexion was still flushed with crimson, Yao Xixue felt a surge of exhilaration. In past attempts, the third strike had always found her wounded and depleted, her celestial energies all but exhausted, leaving her defenseless.

But now, because Wang Lin had somehow weathered the first strike, she possessed sufficient power. Though she had suffered minor injuries, they did not impede her.

Her confidence in overcoming the third strike was absolute.

“This grotto will be mine!” she whispered, drawing a deep breath. Her hands flew into a complex series of mudras, the speed of her movements increasing as the golden light drew near. With a choked gasp, she spat forth a mouthful of blood. The crimson ichor splattered across the oncoming light, and hissed as it seethed, transforming into a swarm of crimson runes that clung to the light.

The golden glow faded, though the runes themselves crumbled and dissolved under its radiant heat. Still the light pressed on, toward Yao Xixue.

She inhaled deeply, and stilled her hands and the chaotic mudras, her hands halting before her into a circular formation of blood and light.

At the final moment, the golden light struck the crimson circle, sending a shock through her being.

A muffled boom shook the air as the crimson circle shattered, the shards scattering into the void. The golden light dissipated into motes of golden energy that were then absorbed into her body.

Yao Xixue could no longer suppress the onslaught. A gout of blood spilled from her lips. Her body swayed, and she feverishly circulated her celestial energy, doing battle with the invading golden power.

The golden light within her body was causing immense destruction. It tore at her meridians and flesh, threatening to unravel her very existence. Only by wielding her energy would she be able to combat and dissolve the incoming energy.

“You and the first warrior, if you both survive the onslaught, will have earned the right to enter the grotto!” the spectral guardian said, his voice unchanged.

Yao Xixue wasted no time. She immediately assumed a cross-legged position, focusing her entire being on the circulation of her energies, fighting against the golden light. She was now completely consumed by the battle within her being, and did not notice the chilling gaze fixating upon her.

At that moment, when her energies were most deeply entwined with the forces of destruction, a figure of shadow streaked from the star-strewn void below, crossing the platforms like a comet of vengeance.

The figure wore a straw hat, and traveled with the speed of lightning. In a blink, it appeared upon the platform. Without hesitation, it snatched Yao Xixue’s storage pouch. As it did, a finger touched Yao Xixue on the brow.

In that instant, Yao Xixue’s eyes snapped open, revealing pure horror. She tried to evade the attack, but was too late. She could only stare at the incoming finger.

A destructive force poured into her body, bursting through the brow and shattering every channel of her energy from the inside.
Even as she reeled, the scant celestial energy within her was shattered by the devastating force. The power of the golden sigil compounded her plight, and Yao Xixue coughed crimson upon the ground, her body flung back three paces. As she landed, a faint, greyish aura pulsed from her brow, a brand of life blooming to encompass her entire form.

“Wang Lin!” she rasped, blood staining her lips.

“Death will not come so easily,” a chilling voice echoed. The slender figure stepped from the shadows, doffing a woven hat to reveal… Wang Lin!

A wave of disbelief crashed upon Yao Xixue. Wang Lin’s presence defied all logic. She had believed him grievously wounded, if not dead. Her divine sense had swept the area only moments before, detecting no sign of him.

Wang Lin’s face remained impassive as he regarded Yao Xixue. This entire tableau was a careful orchestration, conceived the moment he recognized this place as the culmination of their journey.

The feigned release of demonic energy was a ruse, meant to lull Yao Xixue into believing he had exhausted his strength. Then, at the precise moment of the sword-qi’s entry, he had shattered the condensed Celestial Crystal within his core.

These last three days, in the depths beneath the military camp, he had transmuted a third of his jade celestial stones into a Celestial Crystal, intending this very surprise.

The shattering of the Crystal unleashed a torrent of celestial power. Ordinarily, such a surge would demand immediate meditation, lest his meridians be torn asunder.

But as the sword-qi pierced him, this very power served as a perfect counter, neutralizing the deadly energy until it was utterly extinguished.

Then, according to his plan, he retrieved the woven hat gifted to him long ago by Yun Quezi, and cloaked himself within its enchantments.

This hat, imbued with a powerful array of seals, was a creation of Yun Quezi, a master of the Asking Heart stage. Its primary function was to conceal one’s spiritual presence, a feat Wang Lin had utilized with great success in the past.

Only a master of the Asking Heart stage, or higher, could hope to penetrate its veil.

How could Yao Xixue have possibly foreseen such a stratagem?

“Greetings once more, Yao Daoyou,” Wang Lin intoned, holding aloft Yao Xixue’s storage pouch.

Though his words were directed at Yao Xixue, his gaze flickered towards the middle-aged man standing motionless beneath the stone gate. The man’s expression remained placid, as if the scene unfolding before him were but a distant dream.

“You… despicable!” Yao Xixue hissed.

Wang Lin merely smiled. Many had cursed him before. Victory belongs to the strong; defeat to the weak. This was the immutable law of the cultivation world. “Yao Daoyou offered me a false elixir and concealed the true dangers of this place. I have simply repaid the favor, no accolades necessary.”

“If my father, the Blood Ancestor, learns of this, you are doomed, even if you are a disciple of Tian Yunzi! Furthermore, before I came here, I activated a Blood Soul Pill!” Yao Xixue’s face was deathly pale.

“Why would I kill you?” Wang Lin’s smile deepened, becoming almost sinister. “You possess a Blood Soul Pill for resurrection, but its activation requires death as a catalyst. I will seal your very essence, leaving you with not a trace of celestial energy. Let us see how you manage to die!”

Yao Xixue was stricken. Her limbs were leaden, her celestial energy utterly depleted, her meridians shattered. In truth, she should already be dead. But the brand upon her brow pulsed with vitality, a constant stream of life flowing through her. Thus, a cycle of life and death was established, trapping her between realms.

Her existence was suspended.

“I shall seal you away in some desolate place, to endure centuries of solitude, forever teetering on the edge of oblivion, yet unable to cross over. Even if you bite your own tongue, the mark on your brow will prevent your demise! Tell me, then, how will you activate your Blood Soul Pill and return to life?” Wang Lin’s voice was soft, but each word was a hammer blow against Yao Xixue’s fading composure.

As he spoke, a memory stirred within him – of Suzaku Star, where his cultivation had been destroyed by the Great Demon Clan elder and the Snowfield cultivator. He had fallen into a mountain village and discovered, in an underground water prison, the skeletal remains of a woman, sealed away for countless years!

“The wheel of fate does indeed turn,” Wang Lin mused to himself.

He stepped towards Yao Xixue, his right hand reaching directly towards her ample bosom. Yao Xixue bit her lip, her eyes blazing with fury and humiliation.

Wang Lin ignored the look. His hand plunged into the folds of her garments, seeking… and finding the soft warmth of her flesh.

Truly, Yao Xixue was a beauty, and her lineage added to her allure. A daughter of the Blood Ancestor, typically perched high above the world, now fallen into his grasp.

A knowing smile played upon Wang Lin’s lips as he retrieved his hand, holding aloft three storage pouches!

Yao Xixue’s eyes burned with shame, her gaze fixed upon Wang Lin. In all her years of cultivation, she had maintained her purity, never allowing such intimacy with a man!

“Yao Daoyou, shall we make a trade?” Wang Lin said, after securing the pouches.

Yao Xixue stared daggers at him, silent.

“My intent is to seal you until your natural lifespan expires, but within this demon spirit land, five hundred years is the limit. Answer a single question, and I shall reduce your sentence by fifty years. What say you?” Wang Lin’s voice dripped with amusement.

Yao Xixue drew a deep breath, and after a moment of agonizing silence, spat out, “How do I know you speak the truth?”

Wang Lin chuckled. “You are free to refuse.”

Yao Xixue’s gaze remained cold. “Ask your question.”

“If you lie, I may not discern it now, but the truth will come to light eventually. And when it does, do not expect me to release you from your prison.”
“Pray tell,” Wang Lin began, his voice laced with a subtle power, “why dost thou so eagerly seek entrance to this hidden abode?” The question, though simple in its utterance, resonated with untold layers of meaning.

Yao Xixue tossed her head, her gaze fixed upon the stone portal. Beneath it, a man of middling years stood unmoving, his eyes betraying naught but serene indifference.

“I desire entry, and that is reason enough!” she retorted, her voice sharp and defiant.

“Then thou hast sealed thine own fate.” Wang Lin’s gaze hardened, a chilling gleam flickering in his eyes. His hands moved with swift precision, weaving a series of intricate hand seals. Arcane symbols erupted from his fingertips, cascading onto the ground and coalescing into a circular barrier. As time crept onward, the number of seals multiplied, the circle pulsing with an ominous, ebony light.

When his work was complete, Wang Lin reached out with an ethereal grasp, seizing Yao Xixue and flinging her into the heart of the circle. With another deft hand gesture, he whispered a single, potent word: “Seal!”

At his command, the barrier constricted with terrifying speed, engulfing Yao Xixue within its shimmering embrace. In the blink of an eye, it had transformed into a sphere of crackling energy, trapping her within.

Wang Lin summoned the sphere, and with a final gesture, shrunk it to the size of a pebble, storing it within his satchel.

Turning to the impassive guardian, he spoke, his voice devoid of emotion. “Do I now possess the right of passage?”

The man’s expression remained unchanged. “Ye twain endured the trial of three sword strokes. Ye have earned the right to enter. However, be warned, the Master sealed all within before his departure. If thou canst not break the seals, then thy journey shall be in vain.”

Wang Lin paused, his eyes narrowed in contemplation. “What manner of sanctum is this?” he inquired.

“The Master’s dwelling.”

“And who was this Master?”

“The Master was simply…the Master. There is no need to delve further.”

Wang Lin studied the guardian, his silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. After a long moment, he asked, “Those golden runes upon the eleven platforms before the gate, what purpose did they serve?”

“They were the defenses of this sanctuary. Alas, the Master, in his wisdom, sealed their core, robbing them of their power. Had they been active, neither of you would have breached their ward.”

“If another were to withstand your three trials, would you grant them passage as well?” Wang Lin’s eyes glinted with a hidden light.

“Should you succeed in breaking a single seal within these walls, the authority over this dwelling shall be yours. Upon achieving this, the sanctuary shall close its doors forever, barring all others, save through your demise.”

“Has any mortal dared to tread within these halls before?” Wang Lin pressed, his voice laced with cautious curiosity.

“Aye, many have tried, but all have met their doom.”

“How then, does one escape this place?”

“By shattering a seal, of course.”

Wang Lin fell silent, realizing that further questioning would yield no new truths. With a final nod, he stepped across the threshold of the stone portal.

Beyond the gate lay a vista of breathtaking grandeur: a cluster of pavilions and towers, reminiscent of a mortal emperor’s palace. He stood at the very entrance, the gateway to this ethereal domain.

A faint aura of celestial energy permeated the air, invigorating Wang Lin with each breath. He took a step forward, his senses immediately on alert. He lowered his gaze, studying the ground beneath his feet.

The floor was paved with tiles of a pristine, jade-like stone. Wang Lin knelt, his fingers tracing their smooth surfaces. A look of profound surprise spread across his face.

“Celestial jade,” he murmured in disbelief.

He unleashed his spiritual sense, reaching out to encompass the surroundings. He instantly detected countless seals and restrictions, interwoven throughout every structure. He recoiled his spiritual sense, wary of triggering any unforeseen consequences.

“The very foundations of this place are built of celestial jade!” The realization struck him with immense force. Wang Lin, with his keen awareness of such materials, could not deny the truth of what lay before him.

“Alas, such potent seals guard them, else I would strip this place bare!” He cast a longing glance at the jade pathway beneath his feet, a sigh escaping his lips.

A short distance ahead stood a colossal cauldron, its lid pierced with numerous holes, each the size of a man’s arm. Wisps of white smoke billowed forth, rising slowly into the air.

Beyond the cauldron stood a three-storied pavilion, its form elegant and imposing.

Wang Lin moved forward, stopping beside the cauldron. He peered through one of the openings, peering into the depths of the vessel.

Within, he saw nothing but a pool of shimmering liquid at the bottom, the source of the vaporous smoke.

“I am not the first to venture here. Perhaps this cauldron once held alchemical treasures, pilfered by those who came before,” Wang Lin mused, his gaze narrowing. He noticed a damaged seal etched upon the cauldron, a testament to prior attempts at its breach.

After a thorough examination, Wang Lin turned his attention to the pavilion. He paused before it, taking in its intricate design. The structure was laden with seals, even the steps leading to its entrance bearing their own protective wards.

“This is no mere collection of seals, but a single, unified enchantment, capable of fragmenting into countless individual barriers, securing every object within this place! Such masterful sealing is rarely seen, even in ancient tomes. Rumor speaks of its origin in the Celestial Realm!”

He paused, surveying the landscape. “They call it… a Celestial Lock.”

Wang Lin surveyed the scene, muttering to himself, “This entire sanctuary, within and without, is secured by Celestial Locks. Could this truly be the abode of a departed Celestial?”

The thought filled him with a newfound sense of caution. Despite the broken seals upon the pavilion, he proceeded with utmost care, meticulously scrutinizing every inch before taking each step.

He explored all three levels of the pavilion, his progress slow but thorough. The effort, however, proved worthwhile. He gained a profound understanding of the remaining seals, their intricacies laid bare before his discerning eyes.

The pavilion itself was bare, devoid of any furnishings. Only faint marks on the floor hinted at the presence of tables and chairs long since removed. Wang Lin surmised that these items, too, had fallen victim to previous intruders.

“Even the furniture of a Celestial dwelling must possess inherent value. It is only natural that they were taken,” he muttered ruefully.

The emptiness of the pavilion was disappointing, but Wang Lin’s observations revealed a deeper truth. The traces of broken seals suggested that the pavilion had been plundered not by a single individual, but by at least three different parties, each employing their own unique methods of dispelling the enchantments.
A forgotten ward, a relic of elder days, lay shattered before him, its demise a testament to arcane skill. The fractured remnants had reformed, arranging themselves into a delicate, floral pattern – a mystical plum blossom etched in arcane energy. King Lin recognized the signature: the “Eighteen Forbidden Plum Blossoms,” a sealing technique whispered about in ancient tomes.

Within the abandoned tower, a veritable constellation of these broken plum blossom seals adorned the floor. A chilling uniformity spoke of a single hand, a master of this forbidden art.

This particular ward, the Eighteen Forbidden Plum Blossoms, was renowned throughout the ancient realms of cultivation. Yet, its knowledge was fiercely guarded, passed only through direct lineage. Even within the inner circle, access was stratified, disciples granted a mere nine blossoms at most. Only the Sect Leader possessed the complete, eighteen-petaled key.

As King Lin prepared to depart, his gaze snagged upon the dust-etched outlines where furniture once stood. An idea, sharp and sudden, bloomed in his mind. The tower held more secrets than shattered seals.