Wang Lin, having received Sun Xi’s warning, spoke with a quietness that belied the storm within. Though Sun Xi’s cultivation mirrored his own, Wang Lin held him in little regard. Indeed, upon the entirety of Ran Yun Star, no single cultivator could inspire true apprehension in Wang Lin’s heart. Furthermore, Sun Xi’s disregard for his warning in coming here surely signified a plea for aid. Even so, a reckoning was due, lest such audacity become commonplace. Thus, his words were edged with an unyielding steel.

Having honed his skills over nearly a millennium, Wang Lin possessed an unnerving understanding of the human heart. He saw plainly the subtle dance of power and perception. In the theatre of life, those treated with respect often presumed weakness, while those regarded as inferior invariably perceived strength.

It was a lesson learned in childhood, playing amongst the village children. The timid were invariably preyed upon, while the cunning displayed strength, deflecting any potential tormentors. Even within his own family, strength and weakness dictated the tides of respect, an unequal balance spanning heaven and earth. It was a matter of perception: acknowledge weakness, and the other shall seize dominance; project strength, and they shall cower.

Wang Lin, steeped in the ways of cultivation, understood these truths implicitly.

Sun Xi, after a long, weighty silence, offered a strained smile. “Daoist Xu, I admit my brashness. A pressing matter demands my attention, fueling my…impatience.” Wang Lin offered no reply, continuing his stride forward. “Brother Xu,” Sun Xi continued, his voice laced with desperation, “aid me this once, and I pledge the entirety of the Sun family’s resources to your cultivation!” Wang Lin’s voice remained as still as a mountain pool. “Your family could scarcely sustain two Ascendants.”

Sun Xi’s gaze hardened. “True, Brother Xu, my house could not bear two Ascendant cultivators. But if you lend your strength, I will relinquish my own claim to participate in the contest to enter the Realm of Thunder after a century, handing it to you!” Wang Lin halted, casting a sideways glance at Sun Xi before resuming his measured pace.

“As you surely know, Brother Xu, the Realm of Thunder within the Luo Tian Starfield is ever guarded by the Thunder Immortal Palace. The sacred Thunder Cauldrons are under their unyielding control, and outsiders may never obtain them. To set foot within that hallowed realm, one must be undeniably of the Luo Tian Starfield and belong to a bloodline recognized by the Thunder Immortal Palace.” Sun Xi spoke, his eyes half-closed, casually illuminating the intricate details.

Any who scaled the heights of Ascendance possessed a cunning mind. Sun Xi, Patriarch of his clan, was surely a master of intrigue. Subdued by Wang Lin’s initial aura, he was now engaged in a subtle counter-offensive. His explanation not only revealed the path to the Realm of Thunder, but subtly voiced his suspicion regarding Wang Lin’s origin. Wang Lin smiled faintly, retorting, “Within your family dwells a promising youth, Sun Xueshan. Fares he well?”

A peculiar light flickered in Sun Xi’s eyes as he scrutinized Wang Lin. “Xueshan possesses a modicum of talent, yet lacks experience. I am in his debt for his life, and I offer my eternal thanks, Xu Daoist, for that.”

The two shared a silent laugh, their gazes breaking, as Sun Xi’s wariness of Wang Lin deepened. Sidelong glances revealed his inner turmoil. “This man is shrouded in mystery, his cunning as deep as the endless void,” he mused. “Sun Qiming’s earlier probes were dismissed with a mere glance, and my veiled questioning regarding his origin was deflected by his mention of Sun Xueshan. Though I merely suspected, he freely confessed, revealing his awareness and indifference to my inquiry, showing an assurance of my knowledge and disregard for my investigation! His cultivation is beyond mine, therefore I can only conclude he is strong and my family must befriend him, not become an enemy.” “East Serene Star… could he truly hail from that distant world?” Sun Xi pondered. “What say you, Brother Xu, to my proposition?” Sun Xi inquired. “The matter requires further contemplation. I will ponder the terms for some time.” Wang Lin sidestepped the question with practiced ease.

With a sigh, Sun Xi abandoned the topic, steering their conversation towards the local customs and tales of Ran Yun Star. In amicable discourse, they arrived at the Treasure Pavilion east of the city.

Today marked the Treasure Pavilion’s auction, drawing cultivators from far and wide. The entrance bustled with activity as more than a dozen attendants greeted guests, guiding them within based on their token rank.

As Sun Xi and Wang Lin approached, Sun Qiming, who had been awaiting their arrival, rushed forward, his eyes filled with reverence. “Third-generation descendant Sun Qiming greets Ancestor and Senior Xu.” Sun Xi, maintaining his aura of authority, merely nodded in acknowledgement.

Sun Qiming, having arrived at the Treasure Pavilion beforehand, held an obvious advantage given that he was the Sun family member in charge of this part of the city. Without allowing the Treasure Pavilion attendants to intervene, he personally escorted Wang Lin and Sun Xi to the fourth floor.

On their journey, Wang Lin noticed the young man with the surname Lu, the same one who had initially barred his entrance. Startled by Wang Lin’s presence, he was further bewildered by the sight of Sun Qiming. He did not recognize Sun Xi, but Sun Qiming’s deferential demeanor hinted at a figure of high standing within the Sun family. As he watched Wang Lin pass, the young man experienced a vague sense of lost opportunity… The Treasure Pavilion comprised four floors, each containing a collection of private chambers.

Sun Xi and Wang Lin settled into the first chamber on the left, a position offering a clear view of the auction unfolding on the second-floor stage. Sun Qiming stood respectfully to the side, awaiting Sun Xi’s instructions. As Wang Lin stepped into the chamber, a peculiar sensation washed over him, as if a dormant part of his soul had stirred. Focusing his spiritual sense, he swiftly located the source: an aged figure on the third floor. “Him!” Wang Lin recoiled inwardly, retracting his senses. “The Brand of the Ancient God upon him… it is faint, almost gone. There is something amiss here!”

“Brother Xu,” Sun Xi began, “this eighth-grade pill possesses a noteworthy origin. It is not native to Ran Yun Star. It was pilfered after an external cultivator, gravely wounded in battle, fled here. I, together with Patriarch Ran and the reclusive Master Xiaoyao, ambushed him and stole the pill! The Ran family Patriarch slew the outsider.” Sun Xi fixed his gaze on Wang Lin, his words carefully measured.
Wang Lin’s brow furrowed, a silent query directed towards Sun Xi. He desired not to know such clandestine matters, yet Sun Xi had unveiled them nonetheless, hinting at a connection to his earlier request.

Sun Xi, feigning ignorance of Wang Lin’s gaze, continued his tale, “This transpired four years past. The elixir in question is of utmost rarity, particularly coveted by us who seek to Ascend to the Throne. Not a single draught, mind you, but five. I and the Eccentric Xiaoyao each secured one, while the Patriarch Ran, his cultivation already at the Throne’s Midpoint, claimed the remaining three.” Wang Lin remained impassive, his gaze fixed on the upper level, as if deaf to Sun Xi’s words.

Undaunted, Sun Xi pressed on, “Alas, this elixir proves a burning ember in our hands. The slain individual, felled by Patriarch Ran, bore within his pouch a token of House Huan, a scion of the Thousand Illusion Star.” Wang Lin turned, his gaze meeting Sun Xi’s with glacial calm. “Friend Sun,” he stated, “I hold little affection for tales.”

Sun Xi offered a knowing smile. “Brother Xu, this tale, if not spoken by me today, shall be recounted by another on a future dawn. This city, though nominally under Sun’s banner, begs the question: why is such a rare elixir being auctioned here? With your keen intellect, Brother Xu, you surely discern the subtle currents.”

Wang Lin’s countenance remained unchanged, though suspicion had indeed gnawed at him before, born of his unfamiliarity with the Yunluo Star Region. Sun Xi’s words now illuminated the mystery, and his eyes, sweeping across the auction floor above, flickered with a chilling light.

Sun Xi, ever watchful of Wang Lin’s reaction, sighed in relief at the sight of that nascent iciness. His aim was achieved, and he ceased his prodding, turning instead to the teapot and a contemplative sip of tea.

The cold glint in Wang Lin’s eyes vanished as quickly as it appeared. This eighth-grade elixir, he reasoned, could not be offered at auction without the explicit consent of Patriarch Ran. Its price would undoubtedly soar beyond imagination, and for any cultivator below the Throne, it would be worse than useless – an invitation to covetous eyes and a swift demise. Any wise soul would shun it.

Swallowing it whole would unleash the elixir’s potent force, overwhelming any below the Throne’s strength, transforming the medicine into poison.

The auction, then, served a single purpose: to lure Wang Lin. Patriarch Ran, cunningly, sought to tempt him into acquiring the very thing that would implicate him.

That Patriarch Ran knew of his presence on this world, Wang Lin found unsurprising. This was Ran Cloud Star, the domain of House Ran, whose dominion would surely crumble without such pervasive awareness.

To claim the elixir, to consume it, would be tantamount to joining the tragic events of four years ago, a stain that no explanation to House Huan could wash away. *”A depth of scheming!”* Wang Lin mused, his outward calm masking a burgeoning wariness. Throne Ascendants were not to be trifled with; the patriarch of a great house was never weak of mind. “Controlled by House Ran, this elixir will never fall into another’s hands. And if I do not seize it, the Patriarch will simply devise another snare to draw me in.” Above, the auction had commenced, a flurry of bidding erupting for artifacts, rare materials, and potent elixirs.

Sun Xi set down his teacup, his words seemingly directed to the air itself. “Alas, the man had no chance to declare his lineage before we three ambushed him. Had we known he was of House Huan, we would never have dared to strike.

The Huan of Thousand Illusion Star are fiercely protective; the murder of one of their own invites the complete annihilation of all involved, even the purveyors of items from the victim’s pouch.

House Huan demands absolute respect, forbidding even the touch of their fallen’s possessions, insisting instead on their reverent return.

To tempt fate is to dance on the edge of oblivion… and alas, my own elixir remains untouched, locked away to this very day.” Wang Lin remained silent, his gaze unwavering on the spectacle above.

“We come now to an eighth-grade elixir,” echoed a voice from the upper level, “a draught fit only for Throne Ascendants. For those below, consumption guarantees immediate and explosive demise! The bidding begins at ten thousand Immortal Jade…”