“The Apex Realm! Within that swirling vortex of iridescent hues, what manner of being is imprisoned? How can he possibly possess the ‘Hong’ and the Apex Realm!” As Wang Lin traversed the ethereal void, his thoughts spiraled in turmoil.

Though his visage betrayed no hint of disquiet, within his breast, a tempest of astonishment raged.

“The culmination of the Apex Realm lies in the Nascent Soul stage, yet in my life, I first encountered Nado of the Five Planets, a being who possessed the Apex Realm, bestowed upon him by a dying comrade. And now, a second encounter!” Wang Lin’s gaze grew distant as he pierced the vast emptiness, his course set for the heart of the fragmented Thunder Celestial Realm.

“Could it be… that there exists a path to elevate the Apex Realm…” A sudden heat surged through Wang Lin’s veins, leaving his throat parched. The centuries spent in the company of the Apex Realm had granted him an intimate understanding of this incomprehensible power.

“Apex, Path, Origin…” Wang Lin’s brow furrowed in contemplation. His knowledge was too scant, the pieces too few to assemble a coherent picture. With a sigh, he banished the thought, focusing instead on the impending discovery of the Collector’s Pavilion.

The journey through the void, typically a monotonous affair, was transformed. For where the void was vast and most cultivators lingered on the shattered landmasses, Wang Lin and Li Yuan soon witnessed streaks of iridescent sword-light piercing the darkness, some near, some distant.

At first, Wang Lin paid them little heed, but as they pressed onward, the sightings grew ever more frequent. After a month had passed, the void teemed with travelers.

Most were of the Soul Transformation stage, with the occasional glimpse of a Yin Deficiency cultivator.

Alone or in small groups, or clustered in familial gatherings, they sped past, their haste igniting a sense of apprehension in Wang Lin and Li Yuan.

Though their countenances varied, a common spark of fervent anticipation shone in their eyes.

As they hurtled past, these cultivators invariably noticed Wang Lin and Li Yuan. Some, recognizing Wang Lin’s superior cultivation, regarded him with wary eyes, choosing to steer clear rather than risk confrontation.

“Brother Xu, something is amiss. Can it be that some great event is unfolding?” Li Yuan’s voice was laced with concern. He had seen far too many cultivators for a region so desolate.

It was exceedingly strange. And as they drew closer to the center of the shattered realm, the number of travelers increased. It was as if every cultivator in the Thunder Celestial Realm had abandoned their fragments, converging upon a single, unseen destination.

“Not one direction,” Wang Lin murmured, his eyes gleaming. “Four directions!”

“What in the heavens is happening…?” Li Yuan’s frown deepened as his gaze swept over the passing figures.

Wang Lin fell silent, his mind racing. He urged Li Yuan onward, their pace quickening.

Suddenly, from the depths of the void, a dozen beams of sword-light erupted, accompanied by the deafening roar of thunder. The raw, untamed power of the heavens radiated outward, scattering nearby cultivators who dared not impede their progress.

The twelve streaked through the emptiness, an aura of overbearing dominance forcing even large familial groups to yield and retreat.

Individual travelers, upon sighting the approaching lights, halted in their tracks, unwilling to challenge their might.

In an instant, the void before Wang Lin was filled with gazes fixed upon the approaching sword-light.

Wang Lin’s expression remained impassive, his eyes briefly acknowledging the passing lights.

The lights did not tarry, but as the last was about to disappear, it hesitated, turning back towards Wang Lin.

At once, the others halted as well, resolving into a dozen cultivators, male and female. All surpassed the Soul Transformation stage, with Yin Deficiency cultivators predominating, and a scant few reaching Yang Solid.

As they revealed themselves, their eyes fixed on the sword-light, a question forming in their minds.

Not only them, but onlookers too from surrounding emptiness, with or without their families, focused on the beam of light, following its movements.

Li Yuan tensed, his left hand rising, channeling forbidden energy.

Wang Lin alone remained unmoved, his countenance serene. He offered a slight nod to the approaching sword-light.

The light halted twenty paces before Wang Lin, dissipating to reveal a man. He was perhaps thirty years of age, fair-skinned and beardless, handsome but for the feminine slant of his eyes.

Clad in a robe of violet and gold, he straightened and offered a respectful bow. “Junior Zhan Konglie greets Senior!”

As he spoke, his gaze pierced into Wang Lin.

A multitude of unseen eyes bore into Wang Lin, yet his demeanor remained unchanged, as calm as a still lake.

The name Zhan Konglie held considerable renown, and many recognized him instantly. Others, sensing the immense power radiating from him, knew this was Zhan Konglie, a name that echoed throughout the Southern Domain. “Who is this man, whose cultivation is similar to Zhan Konglie’s, that the famous Zhan Konglie calls him senior!?”

“Zhan Konglie is said to have become an envoy of the Thunder Celestial Palace. Could this man be an Elder of the Palace?”

Such musings swirled amongst the onlookers.
An air of disbelief hung heavy amongst the dozen souls who accompanied Zhan Konglie, their gazes fixed on Wang Lin. Each was a scion of a noble cultivating house, a star in their own right. The abrupt change in Zhan Konglie’s course, without a word of explanation, had already sown confusion. Now, to hear him address this stranger as “Senior” sent tremors of bewilderment through their hearts.

For amongst them, Zhan Konglie was an apex of power, his cultivation a thing of marvel. Moreover, they knew him to be fiercely proud, a trait worn subtly, an inner arrogance that barely acknowledged even his own elders. That he would willingly, even reverently, bestow the title of “Senior” was nigh unheard of.

Indeed, Zhan Konglie’s respect was genuine, springing from the depths of his being. Seeing Wang Lin, perceiving the reality of his Yang Spirit cultivation, filled him with awe. “Truly a master,” he mused inwardly. “He suppressed his power to the Nascent Soul stage all those years ago, yet masked it perfectly. Now, elevated to the Yang Spirit, still he hides his true depth from prying eyes.”

Since their last encounter, Zhan Konglie had often pondered, envying Shen Gonghu’s daring. Upon returning to his clan, he had hesitated, wondering if he too should seize the same rare opportunity. Yet, when news reached him that Shen Gonghu had been punished by his family and abandoned by the Thunder Immortal Palace, his feelings were conflicted. Before, he would have reveled in Shen Gonghu’s misfortune, but the ordeal at the Thunder Pool had given him new perspective. Now, he understood Shen Gonghu’s choice, felt his pain as his own, and even felt a measure of respect.

Li Yuan, dumbstruck, stared at Wang Lin. He knew the name Zhan Konglie, for he, along with Shen Gonghu and Tang Yanfeng, were hailed as the Three Heroes of the Southern Domain, all having reached the Yang Spirit stage with astonishing speed. Yet now, this Zhan Konglie addressed Xu Mu as “Senior,” leaving Li Yuan reeling.

Wang Lin, frowning, turned to Zhan Konglie. “Why this haste?” he asked. “Where do you journey so urgently?”

Zhan Konglie, startled by Wang Lin’s displeasure, bowed even lower. “Within the Thunder Immortal Realm, on four scattered shards of the land, surges of potent Immortal energy have erupted,” he explained quickly. “They are guarded by ancient seals, unbreakable in short order. Yet it is clear that once these seals are breached, treasures of untold value will be revealed. I learned of this and set out to investigate.”

Wang Lin glanced around, realizing that many cultivators shared this knowledge, drawn by the same lure. “Seals and guardians, you say…” Wang Lin murmured, his brow furrowed in thought. After a moment, he waved his hand dismissively. “If that is so, then may fortune favor your endeavors.”

Zhan Konglie hesitated. “My chances are slim, Senior,” he confessed. “If you have the time…I also have an agreement with Brother Shen Gonghu to meet on the leftmost shard and combine our strength.”

Wang Lin’s frown deepened. “I have other matters to attend to,” he stated firmly. “If I find the time, perhaps I will take a look.”

Zhan Konglie nodded eagerly, unable to suppress a flicker of excitement. Such emotions were reserved for Wang Lin and a select few within his family and the Thunder Immortal Palace.

“With your blessing, Senior, I am assured of victory!” Zhan Konglie vowed inwardly. He bowed deeply and retreated, transforming into a streak of sword light as he rejoined his companions, leading them onward.

His fellows, still bewildered, hurried to keep pace. After they had flown a considerable distance, a white-robed woman could no longer contain herself. “Brother Zhan,” she ventured, “who was that man?”

Zhan Konglie smiled, a trace of reverence still in his eyes. “That,” he declared, “was a truly extraordinary Senior. Meeting him is my greatest good fortune.”