Wang Lin halted his descent.

“I beg you… take me down… please…” The voice, laced with ancient sorrow and desperate longing, echoed in the abyss.

Wang Lin hesitated. This voice, absent for thirteen long years, stirred within his soul once more. During his arduous study of the consuming force, the woman had remained silent. Now, her words carried an emotional weight he had not sensed before.

His right hand brushed his storage pouch, and a painted scroll emerged, radiating a soft, ethereal light. The oppressive pull of the abyss had no effect on it. Unfurling the scroll, Wang Lin beheld the image of a woman, only her back visible.

For the first time, Wang Lin truly studied the woman in the painting. Though only a glimpse of her back was offered, an aura of unmatched beauty and grace emanated from her.

“Please, take me down… I cannot escape this painted prison. You are safe; no harm will come to you. I only wish to see it, but I only want to have a look…”

Wang Lin considered, yet remained silent.

“I offer you no aid, nor can I bestow any gift. Yet, I implore you, help me. Take me down.”

Wang Lin glanced below. A void of utter darkness stretched out, exuding a chilling aura thick with the breath of frost.

“I cannot assist you. If you desire freedom, then leave this place, then that you must go. I cannot make you feel what is not there” Wang Lin shook his head, averting his gaze from the painting. He had pressing matters to attend to. The enchantments within the cave dwelling needed to be broken before Tian Yunzi and his cohorts arrived in the Demon Spirit Land, allowing him to enter the true sanctuary.

Though he knew not when Tian Yunzi would arrive, his conversation with Yao Xixue had revealed a crucial clue: their arrival was imminent.

Before they descended upon him, Wang Lin had to complete a series of preparations. Time was his most precious and dwindling resource. He could not afford to indulge his curiosity.

Furthermore, he had to find a way to conceal his presence from Tian Yunzi, ensuring a safe departure from the Demon Spirit Land. Failure in even a single step could mean certain death.

Time, for him, was far too fleeting.

Within the painting, the woman stirred restlessly. She yearned to turn, but some unseen force, a binding seal, held her captive. No matter how she strained, she could not face him.

As Wang Lin ascended, nearing the point of vanishing from sight, she seemed to steel herself and whispered, “Would you… would you not know the true origins of the pearl within your Yuan Soul…?”

Though her voice was faint, Wang Lin heard it clearly. The words struck him with the force of ten thousand thunderclaps, halting his ascent.

“Do you not wish for the resurrection of the lingering soul within the pearl…?”

If the first question had been ten thousand thunderbolts, this second was a tempest of a million, a billion, a trillion. It shattered not only Wang Lin’s composure but resonated within his very Yuan Soul.

His Yuan Soul, his memories, his entire being erupted like a tidal wave, collapsing like the heavens themselves. Even with his formidable control, Wang Lin trembled uncontrollably. He spun around, his gaze fixed upon the woman. His eyes burned with a primal intensity, devoid of the eight centuries of cultivated calm. In that moment, Tian Yunzi, the cave dwelling, the Blood Ancestor, the Demon Spirit Land – all crumbled and dissolved. Only a crazed light remained within the abyss, emanating from Wang Lin’s gaze as he stared at the woman. “What… did you say…?” The hoarse voice, unfamiliar from Wang Lin’s lips, rasped forth.

Four simple words, yet they conveyed a depth of feeling beyond description. Even the ceaseless howling winds that had echoed through the ages seemed to quiet in response.

“I can tell you of the pearl’s origin, I can teach you the means to resurrect the soul within, and I can even offer you a path to escape this place…” the woman whispered.

Wang Lin closed his eyes, unwilling to contemplate the truth or falsehood of her words, unwilling to know why she possessed such knowledge of his life. He refused…

Opening his eyes, Wang Lin spoke no word. He leaped forward, seizing the scroll and plunging into the depths of the chasm, flying towards the abyss below at breakneck speed.

Even with but a sliver of hope, he would strive to seize it.

In a lifetime, there exists at least one thing, one burning desire, that can shatter even the most intelligent, the most composed of souls. A desire for which one would face endless dangers, even death itself, to attain. Wang Lin, in the end, was but a man. He was not a callous immortal, nor an emotionless cultivator. Eight centuries of cultivation had ingrained calmness deep within his bones, making it an instinct. He had been able to coldly leave a storage bag to Zhou Ru of Vermillion Bird, and patiently waited for her to open it.

He could face every enemy, no matter how powerful, without wavering his Dao Heart.

But a force existed that could shatter even this iron will. Only in loss does one truly crave possession, only after losing does one realize the treasure one always wished to cherish…

A person who lives a life of unwavering calm and reason, untouched by passion, can hardly be called human. Wang Lin could not allow himself to become such a being.

He clutched the scroll, his eyes filled with sorrow, like a shooting star hurtling towards the bottom of the abyss. He refused to think, refused to analyze.

The woman in the painting sighed softly. “Have no fear, I do not deceive you… It has taken great resolve to reveal this to you…”

Wang Lin did not speak, but the hand clutching the scroll tightened, as if he held not a painting but a fragile hope.

The frost on the chasm walls grew denser, shimmering with crystalline light. The force of the abyss increased, reaching a tipping point.

Wang Lin knew not how long they fell. The abyss seemed without end, stretching into an infinite, pitch-black void.

“Closer… closer…” The woman’s voice trembled.

At this depth, the pull of the abyss was immense. Wang Lin was dragged downwards at incredible speed, howling through the darkness for what felt like a day, a month, perhaps even a year. Finally, in the endless black, a brief corridor of shimmering energy appeared.

At the end of the corridor was a vast vortex, rotating slowly, the source of the consuming force…

Strangely, the pull seemed muted here, as if the vortex had been suppressed until reaching a certain range, after which it erupted with renewed strength.

The moment Wang Lin saw the vortex, a strange power emanated from the painting, flowing into his body and concentrating within his eyes. In that instant, his vision seemed to pierce the vortex, allowing him to see what lay within.

A starfield, filled with countless cultivation stars… it was as if he gazed upon another world.

“This is…” Wang Lin whispered, his composure momentarily returning as he stared at the vortex.

“My home… the Luo Tian Star Region…” the woman in the painting said softly.