Wang Lin, with heavy heart, spun a web of deceit for Li Muwan.

He was ensnared in a cruel paradox, unable to both safeguard Li Muwan and prevent Zhou Ru’s spirit from dissolving into nothingness. To prematurely extract Zhou Ru’s essence would unleash a torrent of fatal energy from the soulless vessel. Though Li Muwan’s nascent Nascent Soul, still awakening, might withstand the initial shock, it would suffer grievous damage to its spiritual awareness, perhaps even shatter into oblivion.

Yet this was but a lesser threat. Should Zhou Ru’s spirit be prematurely drawn forth, the Wheel of Heavenly Dao would descend with righteous fury. Bereft of a spirit’s veil, Li Muwan’s fragile Nascent Soul would be exposed, stark naked before the gaze of the heavens. Her half-formed essence, struck by the Dao’s might, would surely be irrevocably scarred.

The original design had been different. Li Muwan’s Nascent Soul was to inhabit the infant’s flesh, slowly weaving its own unique spirit as the child grew, thereby evading the prying eyes of the Heavenly Dao.

But fate, with its cruel hand, had twisted the threads of destiny. Only the consumption of Zhou Ru’s soul remained as a means to unravel this bitter knot.

This agonizing truth had been forged in the crucible of Wang Lin’s mind after four years of relentless contemplation – a dead end.

Between Zhou Ru and Li Muwan, there was no question of preference in his heart. He weighed the scales, and with profound sorrow, resolved to sacrifice Zhou Ru that Li Muwan might awaken.

The choice was brutal, a wound upon Wang Lin’s soul. Yet, he was a venerable ancient, weathered by five centuries of cultivation, his heart tempered to an unyielding hardness. The years of deliberation had turned his resolve to iron.

“Zhou Ru,” Wang Lin whispered to the winds, his gaze fixed upon the young woman seated upon a distant stone, “this debt I, Wang Lin, will repay. After death, I will ensure your family thrives for ten generations, holding sway over the kingdom of Chu…”

As if sensing his silent vow, Zhou Ru stirred, turning her gaze towards Wang Lin. A tear traced a shimmering path down her cheek, yet a faint smile bloomed upon her face.

The final two years dwindled, each day bringing the advent of the Heavenly Dao ever closer.

Since arriving upon the Lunar Star, Wang Lin had not stirred, oblivious to the upheaval engulfing Suzaku.

Suzaku, at that very moment, was consumed by a raging inferno of war!

From the Immortal Relict Clan had emerged four sorcerers of surpassing power, wielding nine leaves or more in their spellcraft. Their strength, akin to that of cultivators who had reached the Ascendant stage, clashed in a bloody stalemate with the nations of Suzaku Star.

Simultaneously, whispers of betrayal slithered across Suzaku. One by one, figures of influence within the cultivator nations, the very founders of ancient sects, turned their backs on Suzaku.

In pivotal battles, their treachery had led to crushing defeats. Now, a chilling rumor spread like wildfire across the star.

Eons ago, the Immortal Relict Clan had mastered a forbidden art. At the cost of countless lives, they could transform one of their own into a cultivator. Over the ages, they had created nine such beings, each stripped of their Relict physiology, immune to Feng Yin’s restrictions. These nine had infiltrated various cultivator sects, becoming the Relict Clan’s most potent and insidious weapon.

Upon the Lunar Star, tranquility reigned, a stark contrast to the chaos consuming Suzaku. Two years slipped by, leaving but three months until the appointed hour.

Zhou Ru had not spoken a word in a year. Her slumbers grew more frequent, until she spent the greater part of each day lost in slumber.

Little White, unwavering in his devotion, remained by her side, his tiger eyes brimming with sorrow. Little Purple, however, remained innocent of such grief, peering with innocent confusion at White and Zhou Ru.

Wang Lin maintained an unyielding vigil over Zhou Ru, observing the awakening of Li Muwan’s Nascent Soul. He adjusted the flow of spiritual energy within his body, honing himself to a razor’s edge, prepared to confront the Heavenly Dao at a moment’s notice.

Deep within the planet’s molten core, his true form mirrored this preparation, striving for peak condition. He would not allow himself to fail in this confrontation.

In her slumber, Zhou Ru would often murmur fragments of dreams. At times, she would whisper, “Uncle, I’m afraid…” but these pleas grew fainter with each passing day.

More often, she spoke in fragmented, unintelligible words, and tears would flow. Though not possessing exceptional beauty, Zhou Ru possessed a purity of spirit that was almost ethereal.

As the final month descended, Zhou Ru drifted deeper into an unending sleep.

She did not awaken for the entire month, for Li Muwan’s Nascent Soul had begun its final consumption.

Wang Lin sealed away Little White and Little Purple, lest they disturb Li Muwan’s awakening. He remained at Zhou Ru’s side, gazing upon the slumbering girl, and his heart twisted in pain.

“Uncle, who are you?”

“Uncle, thank you for saving me…”

“Uncle, you promised to catch me a big tiger…”

“Uncle, I’m scared… can you take the little person out of my body?”

Memories of Zhou Ru flickered through his mind, a bittersweet tapestry of shared moments. After a long moment, Wang Lin breathed a weary sigh.

The days trickled by, until at last, the final day arrived. Wang Lin could feel it: Li Muwan’s Nascent Soul was on the verge of complete awakening, consuming Zhou Ru’s essence.

Suddenly, grey clouds churned into existence above the Lunar Star, forming in an instant. Within their swirling depths, a familiar, piercing gaze materialized.

The Emissary of the Heavenly Dao, who had appeared nineteen years prior, had returned!

Its gaze swept across the land, fixing upon Zhou Ru. A blinding light erupted as a gargantuan hand, emerging from the cloud, plunged down like lightning.

Wang Lin’s eyes flashed. Without hesitation, he leaped into the air, weaving a complex series of hand seals.

Above him, a shimmering apparition materialized: the Scroll of Life and Death. Wang Lin roared, “Begone!”
A thick miasma of grey, emanating from the painted mountains and rivers within the scroll, roared forth, coalescing before Wang Lin. At that moment, the colossal arm of the Heavenly Dao Samsara Envoy descended, crashing against the spectral grey.

*BOOM!*

A deafening sound shook the heavens and the earth. The grey essence unleashed by the Scroll of Life and Death pulsed outwards, forcing the titanic arm to recoil.

Wang Lin’s eyes flashed with a glacial light. With a surge of will, the ground beneath him cracked and groaned. In a blur, his Avatar arose, a primal force unleashed, and charged towards the monstrous limb. He unleashed a devastating punch.

*CRASH!* Another cataclysmic impact reverberated, the earth trembled, and the heavens themselves seemed to splinter. The Avatar’s fist, a weapon of unimaginable power, shattered the arm into dissipating fragments.

Wang Lin’s gaze burned like twin suns. His voice resonated with an unwavering resolve. “This time, you will not claim the soul of Li Muwan!”

From the roiling clouds above, the eyes remained unchanged, yet this time, two arms emerged. Upon these limbs, flickers of crimson lightning pulsed.

Wang Lin’s focus sharpened. This time, the Heavenly Dao Samsara returned, prepared. The two gargantuan arms plummeted, each aimed to seize Wang Lin and his Avatar.

The Avatar roared, his form shifting, growing until he became a towering giant of ten fathoms. Upon his brow, the three starlit marks spun with furious speed. He took a step forward, meeting the onrushing arm head-on, and with a bellow, unleashed a furious barrage of blows.

*BOOM!*

A maelstrom of power erupted. Red lightning crackled across the Avatar’s form as he was hurled back, crashing into a nearby mountain peak, reducing it to dust.

As the other arm reached for Wang Lin, he wove arcane gestures, his hands a blur of mystical energy. With a precise strike, he called upon the Scroll of Life and Death, and it plummeted from the heavens, becoming a shimmering barrier before him.

The colossal hand closed around the scroll, briefly pausing, before attempting to retract it.

“Tremble!” Wang Lin roared, his eyes bloodshot.

The Scroll of Life and Death convulsed, unleashing a torrent of grey energy. A hiss of corrosion echoed from the arm as wisps of white smoke billowed. Ultimately, the arm was forced to relinquish its hold, withdrawing into the clouds.

The eyes within the storm, cold and uncaring, swept over Zhou Ru behind Wang Lin. With a deliberate motion, the arms tore at the clouds, ripping them asunder, revealing a vast, colossal face.

This face, seemingly ordinary, instilled an instinctive awe, for it represented authority.

The face stared down at Wang Lin, then opened its mouth, and a grey beam shot forth, materializing into an enormous wheel. As the wheel spun, the heavens shifted, and the earth groaned.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the land, emanating from Wang Lin’s position, spreading rapidly outwards. Within moments, hundreds of leagues were rent asunder. In the sky, abyssal rifts opened, connecting, creating the illusion of the world collapsing.

Wang Lin’s face hardened. With a thought, his Avatar merged with him, becoming one. The true Wang Lin stood revealed.

The colossal face, without a glance at Wang Lin, extended an arm and rippled its hand across the spinning wheel. Immediately, an unearthly sound emanated from its core.

And in that instant, the very fabric of existence seemed to drown in an immeasurable power.

Wang Lin gasped. The power was all too familiar – the power of Samsara itself.

He attempted to move, but the forces of Samsara surged from all directions, converging upon him, binding him. It formed a prison, encasing him in a cage of fate.

He was rendered immobile, unable to even lift a finger.

Then, the gargantuan arm, having completed its manipulation of the wheel, lashed downwards with the speed of lightning. Its target was Zhou Ru.

“No!” Wang Lin cried out, his mind reeling.

For nineteen years he had toiled, all for this day. But now, he was forced to watch as the hand of the Heavenly Dao reached for Zhou Ru, preparing to snatch away the nascent soul of Li Muwan.

The colossal arm was once again thrust back, but this time, it did not dissipate.