A tempest raged within Wang Lin, yet he masked it well. Slowly, his gaze settled, serene on the surface, but beneath lay a heart ablaze, a conflagration born of desperate hope and gnawing fear.

He did not rush forward. Instead, he waited until others had voiced their desires before stepping forth, his movements measured. Bowing deeply to the elder Yan Leizi, he spoke, his voice steady despite the turmoil within: “Honored Elder, this humble one has a request!”

Yan Leizi’s eyes, like chips of glacial ice, rested upon Wang Lin. “Xu Mu,” he said, his tone even, “speak your desire.”

“My request,” Wang Lin intoned, his face a mask of composure, “is for the restoration of a shattered, slumbering Nascent Soul – to weave it a new fleshly form and awaken it from the brink of oblivion!” Though his expression remained impassive, within him, his heart hammered against his ribs, threatening to burst free from its cage.

“Oh?” Yan Leizi’s gaze sharpened. After a moment’s contemplation, he turned to the elder of the Xiang family. “This request is not beyond our reach. The Xiang clan, as lore dictates, possesses a divine art known as the ‘Invocation of Spirits’. It is said to hold boundless wonders, and it should satisfy this young man’s desire. Xiang Daoyou, what is your opinion?”

The Xiang elder smiled, his features etched with respect for Wang Lin’s ambition. “If Xu Mu speaks of a Nascent Soul whose corporeal form has been ravaged, leaving it deeply wounded and plunged into slumber, then the task is not insurmountable!” he declared. “First, bring forth the Soul, that I may examine it.”

Wang Lin paused, his mind a battlefield of conflicting emotions. Li Muwan was to him irreplaceable, the very essence of his being, the one he had sworn to protect. Hesitantly, he raised his right hand and touched his storage pouch. A soft, luminous orb materialized, hovering in the air.

During the three days he had spent recuperating within the Thunder Immortal Temple, unseen and unnoticed, Wang Lin had retrieved Li Muwan’s Nascent Soul from the Reverse Bead. With meticulous care, he had employed the Forbidden Heart Shattering technique, sealing the Soul to prevent its dissipation.

The moment had arrived.

He cradled the orb in his right hand. With a gentle caress of his left, the orb bloomed, petals of light unfurling to reveal a miniature figure within, seated in meditative repose.

It was Li Muwan. Her face was pale, almost translucent. She sat still, radiating a fragile aura, as though a mere breath could scatter her essence to the winds.

A faint, ethereal glow enveloped her, imbuing her with a saintly radiance. She appeared as an immortal maiden descended from the celestial realms, now resting in Wang Lin’s hands.

Though slumbering, though untouched by the waking world, Li Muwan, with her eyes closed in eternal rest, retained the echo of her inherent kindness and gentle spirit.

Her beauty was understated, lacking the otherworldly allure of Liu Mei or the arrogant splendor of Hong Die. Yet, within Wang Lin’s heart, such comparisons were meaningless.

Li Muwan, cradled in his memory, once a vibrant blossom, now faded and withered. Time, like the relentless tides, had reshaped the world around them.

In the blink of an eye, all had been swept away, leaving behind only one vow, echoing eternally within Wang Lin’s soul:

“Even if Heaven itself decrees your demise, I shall snatch you back!”

For this promise, Wang Lin had dared to cross the Firmament of Luo. For this promise, he stood within the Thunder Immortal Temple!

As Wang Lin revealed Li Muwan’s Nascent Soul, from the distance, the beautiful Xi Zifeng, whose gaze had never strayed from him, felt her world shatter. Her face drained of color, her body trembled. She heard the sound of her own heart breaking.

“So… the reason he braved these trials, fought for the title of Immortal Sealer, was for this woman…” Tears streamed down Xi Zifeng’s face. She stared at the Soul in Wang Lin’s hand, a bitter ache spreading through her.

“To inspire such devotion in one’s beloved… Even though her Soul is damaged, lost in slumber, it is, without doubt, a form of happiness.”

Qing Shui, watching Wang Lin and the Soul cradled in his palm, felt a wave of melancholy wash over him, a haunting echo of long-lost memories. Years ago, he too had sworn to protect a woman, a lifetime companion. However… a raw, familiar pain flickered in his eyes.

The Xiang elder scrutinized Li Muwan’s Nascent Soul. His smile vanished, replaced by an intense focus, his eyes fixed upon the miniature figure. Slowly, he furrowed his brow. “How long has this Nascent Soul been slumbering?”

Wang Lin inhaled deeply, the strength honed by a thousand years of cultivation seemingly fragile. Suppressing the tremor in his voice, he spoke softly, “Nearly seven centuries.”

The Xiang elder nodded slowly. “To preserve a Nascent Soul unchanged for seven centuries speaks of immense effort. However… seven centuries is too long.”

“How can a Nascent Soul cultivator survive for seven centuries, let alone one severed from its corporeal form, existing only as Soul?”

“And, most importantly, this Soul teeters on the brink of annihilation! Xu Mu, make another request.” The Xiang elder sighed inwardly. He had wanted to help this young man, and so, offered him this escape.

The Xiang elder’s words struck Wang Lin’s heart like sharpened barbs. The pain was indescribable, as though the world before him was crumbling, reduced to a desolate void where only despair echoed. Everything, all that he had ever known, seemed lost.

In that instant, Wang Lin felt the flicker of his own life force threatened. The elder’s words, one by agonizing one, echoed in his ears like thunder.

“Truly… is there no hope at all…?” Wang Lin’s eyes, filled with unbearable sorrow, turned to Li Muwan.

The Xiang elder sighed again, examining Li Muwan’s Nascent Soul once more. He shook his head. “If I am not mistaken, this woman’s life force was near its end when you extracted her Soul using a forbidden art, nurturing it with great care. However, at the very precipice of success, in the crucial moment of reversing fate, an unforeseen calamity struck, rendering her Soul unable to withstand the strain. Though you have preserved it until this day, in truth, she lingers on the edge of death.”

“With my abilities, I cannot aid you… She was destined to perish. To forcibly keep her bound to this plane, is a torment for both you and her! The only solace I can offer is to guide her Soul into the cycle of reincarnation.”
Wang Lin staggered, retreating several paces, his face a mask of deathly pallor. A mouthful of vital essence, tainted crimson, erupted from his lips, accompanied by a wretched laugh. His gaze, filled with sorrow, was fixed upon the nascent soul of Li Muwan, suspended in its meditative pose.

Memories, like fleeting phantoms, danced before his eyes: every cherished moment shared with Li Muwan. A pang of agonizing grief pierced his very being, a pain that resonated deep within his bones and etched itself upon his soul. Two tears, rare and precious, escaped Wang Lin’s eyes. In all his days, he had shed tears but a handful of times. Now, he wept.

Gazing upon Li Muwan, a fire of unyielding defiance ignited within his heart.

“Though fate itself decrees your demise, I shall wrest you back! This, Wan’er, is my vow to you!” Wang Lin raised his right hand, clutching the nascent soul of Li Muwan. The seal that bound it contracted instantly, reforming into a miniature sphere.

The elder from the Xiang family remained silent for a long while. Then, abruptly, he spoke again: “It is not entirely without hope.”

Wang Lin’s frame jolted as if struck by a thousand thunderbolts. In that instant, every ounce of his strength surged into his eyes, focused entirely upon the elder of the Xiang family.

“However, the price for this method is exceedingly high. The crux of this maiden’s impending demise lies in the waning of her life force. Should we replenish it, a sliver of hope may emerge. Alas, the arcane art required, known as the ‘Seven Evening Stars’ technique, is beyond my meager abilities. Only our ancestral patriarch, secluded within our family’s depths, possesses the power to enact it.”

“Xu Mu, I must forewarn you. To enact this ‘Seven Evening Stars’ technique requires the vital essence of one who shares a profound bond with this maiden. Only then will we avoid its rejection. However, the soul who offers this life force will have their own lifespan drastically shortened. And this shortening will not be equitable. It is even possible that sacrificing nine-tenths of your own life force will only grant this maiden a mere sliver of a chance at recovery.”

“Yet, that is all it is: a sliver. Should the ritual fail, your lifespan will be irretrievably lost. Consider this carefully. If you consent, I shall lead you to beseech our ancestor to aid you in this endeavor!”

Silence descended, thick and heavy. The voice of the Xiang family elder echoed across the heavens, reaching the ears of every soul. At that moment, throughout the entire Luo Tian Starfield, all cultivators heard these fateful words.

To sacrifice the greater part of one’s own life for a single, uncertain chance for a loved one… Was it worth it?

This question surged within the hearts of every cultivator who had heard the elder’s pronouncement.

The elder of the Xiang family, indeed, held a measure of admiration for Wang Lin. In uttering these words before the entirety of the Luo Tian Starfield, he harbored no hidden agendas, no malevolent intent.

“I… I consent!” Wang Lin’s gaze pierced the restrictive sphere within his grasp, as if he could see through the layers of enchantment.

His voice was hoarse, yet with his gaze, his soul seemed to meld into the sphere, embracing Li Muwan’s nascent spirit. A wave of sorrow washed over him. As if sensing his presence, Li Muwan’s nascent soul trembled faintly, attempting to open its eyes. But it lacked the strength, only weariness and lament remained.

Wang Lin understood that life force was the very essence of existence, the source of longevity. The stronger the life force, the longer the lifespan. As cultivators honed their abilities, their life force grew in kind. Thus, those who attained greater heights of cultivation lived for longer.

The Xiang family elder nodded. “Since you agree, once the Immortal Ascension has concluded, you shall accompany me to Dong Lin Star!”

The reminiscence lingered in Qing Shui’s eyes, tinged with a touch of melancholy. He spoke softly: “Xu Mu, I shall journey with you!”

Wang Lin looked toward Qing Shui, gratitude shining in his eyes. He nodded. He knew Qing Shui feared that treachery might befall him on Dong Lin Star, and would accompany him to ensure the ritual proceeded without incident.

Afterward, others voiced their requests. Notably, Xu Ting and Nangong Han both sought to enter the Lei Xian Temple, to freely study immortal arts within Cai Xian Pavilion. After the thirty-six Heavenly Generals each received that which they desired, the Immortal Ascension drew to a close!

At the moment of its ending, the laughter of Yan Leizi reverberated throughout the surroundings. He rose from his cushion, his robes billowing. His eyes gleamed with fierce light as he uttered in a low voice, “Friends, aid me in opening the passage to the Alliance! The great war is about to begin!”