Upon the desolate peak of Mount Hengyun, Wang Lin stood serene, his gaze piercing the very core of Yao Bingyun’s spirit. He saw that her sister was both her sole devotion and her most grievous vulnerability.

“My power… it cannot aid you,” Wang Lin spoke softly, his eyes fixed on the ground.

Above, Yao Bingyun’s face fell, her spirit dimmed. After a long, heavy silence, she whispered, “Perhaps… I misunderstood.” She turned, tears shimmering at the corners of her eyes, and drifted towards the heavens, fading into the distance.

Throughout this exchange, Wang Lin remained unmoved, his eyes closed, lost within the labyrinth of his own karmic understanding. Slowly, a phantom image of two intertwined koi, one black and one white, emerged from his form, coalescing behind him, a swirling dance of yin and yang.

With each revolution, a pull emanated, drawing in the ambient energy of the world. This raw power flowed into Wang Lin’s body, nourishing his being. At the same time, a fraction was diverted into the Heaven Defying Bead, which absorbed it greedily.

The surface of the bead responded in kind, morphing into a similar yin-yang motif, spinning in unison with Wang Lin’s aura.

Thus, Wang Lin’s comprehension of the Way of Karma reached a nascent stage, manifesting an essence that clung to him. This transformation signified his true entry into the second step of cultivation, a scrying of the Nirvana.

He could, if he desired, summon the Heavenly Tribulation in an instant, and upon surviving its trials, ascend to the initial stages of Nirvana Scrying! “The second step… Nirvana Scrying, Nirvana Cleansing, Nirvana Shattering… each bearing the mark of ‘Nirvana’,” he mused. “Evidently, in conjunction with the glimpse I caught of the Third Step, only by comprehending the essence of Nirvana, mastering its rules, can one ultimately attain the Third Step…”

“The Heavenly Dao is boundless, the Grand Dao infinite. Is this journey of enlightenment truly limited to these three steps…?” Wang Lin, lost in contemplation, opened his eyes. His left eye blazed with the heat of the sun, while his right held the cool glow of the moon, an eerie celestial duality. As his eyes opened, the yin-yang koi behind him spun faster, with increasing fervor.

The vortex grew so intense, it seemed Mount Hengyun became the epicenter of a cosmic shift. The spiritual energy of the entire Qing Ling Star reacted, as if manipulated by an unseen hand, thrown into tumultuous disarray.

Moreover, the manic surge of power birthed a formless storm that engulfed the Qing Ling Star. Every cultivator on the planet could feel its oppressive weight.

Vast amounts of spiritual energy converged upon Mount Hengyun. Wang Lin’s eyes flashed with an otherworldly light, and he drew a deep breath. The yin-yang koi behind him stilled.

“The balance is shifting,” he murmured, “but it cannot culminate on the Qing Ling Star, lest it crumble!” Wang Lin rose to his feet, ready to cleave through the void. But he paused, sensing a presence in the distance.

His gaze, sharp as a honed blade, pierced the leagues to fall upon an old man named Xie. He was struggling, one foot in front of the other, toiling toward the mountain, in what resembled pilgrimage.

With the fragile body of a mortal, he pushed forward, driven by a purpose. Mount Hengyun was his destination.

Wang Lin hesitated, then averted his gaze, sinking back to his cross-legged position, closing his eyes once more.

Time flowed like a river, and a fortnight passed. Wang Lin remained in his meditative trance, unmoving. During this time, the aged Xie moved ever faster, a speed that his frail frame could hardly sustain. But each time exhaustion threatened to overcome him, a warmth would bloom within, coursing through his body, banishing fatigue and renewing his spirit.

At last, after half a month, he reached the base of Mount Hengyun. Gazing up at the towering peak, the old man steeled his resolve and began his ascent.

Step by agonizing step, he climbed, his knees cracking, blood staining the earth. His heart blazed with conviction as he pressed upward.

“My life has been spent pondering the ways of Heaven and Man,” he thought, “enlightening the masses through scholarship. But now, at the threshold of understanding, I am struck by an epiphany: I am merely a fish swimming in water…”

The old man’s face twisted in a bitter smile, but his eyes burned brighter than ever.

“Man is the fish, Heaven the water, the Dao the net, and Providence the fisherman!” On this fateful day, he finally reached the summit, and saw Wang Lin, cross-legged, his eyes burning with the duality of the Sun and Moon.

Though weary, his knees raw and bloody, the sight sent a shockwave through the old man’s soul. In a fleeting vision, he saw an image of yin and yang, he fell to his knees in reverence.

“Please, impart the Dao unto me!”

Wang Lin gazed upon the aged Xie, a man respected throughout the Qing Ling Star. Such a soul differed from the common folk, for it possessed a core, however nascent.

These individuals were not necessarily suited for cultivation, for the pure hearts of children were far more amenable. Yet, should they succeed, their understanding of the grand designs, both adverse and benign, reached profound depths, their path stretched far into the future.

Still, the old man’s age weighed heavily. His body would struggle to endure the influx of spiritual power. “Your lifespan is fleeting,” Wang Lin said softly. “Cultivation is not a task for a day. Have you truly considered this?”

Xie, his gaze locked on Wang Lin, responded with unwavering resolve. “From the age of three, I studied prose, from six I memorized verse. By fourteen, my name echoed through the capital. Yet, my heart remained shrouded in doubt. I sought to know everything and clarify mankind, yet a sense of constraint haunted my every step. In my twilight years, I resigned my post and dedicated myself to teaching, resigning myself to spend my days in the fog of doubt and constraint before my soul returned to nothingness.

“But the wind that blew through my chambers that day revealed the source of my ignorance: What *is* the Dao? By the riverbank, I understood, as though a force stirred within my heart, compelling me here, at the cost of my life, to seek… the Dao! I beg you, impart the Dao unto me! Take me as your disciple!”
Wang Lin’s gaze fell upon the aged Xie, his eyes piercing through the venerable elder as if unraveling the very threads of his soul. A faint ripple stirred in the ether, revealing a glimpse of countless lives swirling behind the old man, a ghostly carousel of reincarnation.

“What name do you bear?” Wang Lin finally asked, his voice calm as a still pond.

“Xie Qing,” the elder replied, drawing a steadying breath.

“In my lifetime, I have taken no disciples. Yet, your path resonates with a destiny intertwined with mine. I shall accept you as a disciple in name only! Here, upon this windswept peak, you shall dwell, and cultivate in solitude. I shall impart to you no spells, nor mystic arts, but grant you only an opportunity for profound realization!”

With that, Wang Lin raised his right hand and extended a finger. As he did, the yin and yang koi behind him spun with sudden vigor, their essence seeming to flow into the pointing digit. Across the void, the force of the finger struck Xie Qing squarely between the eyes.

The old man shuddered, his eyes clouding with confusion, before collapsing senseless upon the earth.

Wang Lin spared Xie Qing another glance, then with a sweep of his sleeve, a swirling mist obscured his form. He ascended into the heavens, vanishing like a phantom into the vast expanse of the sky.

A day hence, Xie Qing stirred, his eyes still holding the dazed remnants of the strange encounter. After a long silence, he sat in lotus position atop the peak, closed his eyes, and began his quiet contemplation.

Wang Lin did not depart the star Qing Ling immediately. Instead, he sought out the Xianxuan clan, retrieving the last of his paper talismans from his storage pouch. Alas, he found no answers among the Xianxuan people. They recognized a vague familiarity with the talisman, but could offer no concrete clues.

Lost in thought, Wang Lin finally took his leave.

Out in the void between the stars, Wang Lin did not merge his form with the very fabric of existence as was his wont. Instead, he sped across the cosmos like a shooting star, his divine sense reaching out, seeking a sanctuary for undisturbed meditation.

After days of searching, Wang Lin’s eyes sharpened, and he veered towards a dull, ochre-colored planet. This was a desolate world, devoid of civilization, its spiritual energies all but extinguished. Wang Lin plunged through the thin, biting wind, and landed upon the barren surface. The air was thick with noxious vapors, deadly to any mortal soul. But these held no sway over Wang Lin. With a simple gesture, he raised a fist of earth from the ground, shaping it into a towering mountain.

Carved into the slopes of this newly formed peak was a simple grotto, its walls still damp with fresh earth. Wang Lin stepped inside and took his seat in the meditation pose. Behind him, the spectral form of Tarsan materialized, guarding the entrance like a silent sentinel.

Tarsan’s wounds had begun to heal, and his eyes burned with a fierce protectiveness as he scanned the surroundings.

As Wang Lin settled, he channeled his internal energies. The black and white yin and yang koi reemerged, spinning with growing speed. As they whirled, the last vestiges of spiritual energy on the desolate planet began to converge towards him, drawn in by the churning vortex.

Slowly, Wang Lin’s internal energy, once colorless and formless, began to take shape. As the yin and yang spun faster and faster, his energy split asunder! It divided into a stream of black and a stream of white! The white qi remained within his body, while the black qi swirled outward, encircling him in a perfect cycle.

At that very moment, as Wang Lin delved into his meditation, a figure traversed the starry skies, carried upon a vast cloud of crimson. In his right hand, he clutched a bronze mirror, its surface etched with a thin, red line that pointed unerringly towards its destination.

The man was handsome, his expression calm and collected. He rode the red clouds with incredible speed.

Had Wang Lin been present to observe, he would have recognized the man as Yao Yun, who had attempted to save his two sisters in the illusory world of Yao Bingyun. While his appearance remained unchanged from that fateful encounter, his countenance betrayed the weight of time.

And deep within his eyes, concealed beneath a placid surface, flickered a dangerous, almost demonic light, like a dying ember.