Across the boundless expanse of the celestial sphere stretched a tapestry of star-stuff, a dazzling nebula painted with a thousand hues. Though seemingly still from afar, this cosmic swirl pulsed with unseen energies, its form subtly shifting in the grand cosmic ballet.

Each wisp and cloud of this celestial wonder possessed its own unique form, a breathtaking array of patterns that could only be described as magnificent.

Then, upon this day, a streak of light, a celestial arrow, pierced the nebula’s heart. Its passage was not swift, yet its presence amongst the stars caused ripples in the fabric of space, stirring the seemingly dormant nebula into a frenzy of retreating stardust.

And what was most astonishing was that the figure within this radiant streak did not rely on celestial compasses or arcane artifacts, but rather strode forth on foot, his form defying the emptiness of the void.

He was clad in robes of verdant green, a man appearing to be in his early thirties, with a common face that held no immediate allure. However, upon closer inspection, one would sense an air of profound experience about him, a hint of countless ages etched upon his soul.

It was as if this man had weathered cosmic storms, outlived fallen stars, and borne witness to millennia of fleeting existence.

This was Wang Lin, who ventured forth without resorting to the grand techniques of celestial fusion, preferring instead to traverse the cosmos with steady, measured steps.

An age, immeasurable to mortal minds, had passed since his return from the realm of Nothingness.

Four suns prior, with the aid of Yan Leizi, he and the enigmatic Qingshui had opened a gateway back into the starlit sea, escaping the clutches of the Void. Wang Lin spoke little of their experiences within that desolate place, nor did he elaborate on the fates of Yi Muzi, Wu Dongchan, or the monstrous Wang Yue.

Yan Leizi, respectful of the unspoken, refrained from pressing the matter, though a shadow of unease crossed his face when Wang Yue was mentioned.

Wang Lin did not linger in Yan Leizi’s domain, offering a brief farewell before departing. The venerable Yan Leizi, though capable of piercing the veil of Wang Lin’s ancient god physique, sensed an aura of immense potential, a power that, though nascent, threatened to bloom into an awe-inspiring force.

Upon their return to the celestial sphere, Qingshui unleashed the seals that had bound his power, for his divine essence had never truly vanished, only been suppressed by arcane bindings.

With his power restored, Qingshui swiftly vanished into the star-strewn expanse, his destination unknown.

Though their departures appeared unrelated, Wang Lin knew that Qingshui would seek him out, driven by the need to unearth the memories locked within the soul of the Xuanbao Elder.

As he walked amongst the stars, Wang Lin’s thoughts turned to the trials within the Void. The rise and fall of Luo Chen, the turmoil beyond the boundaries of the Sealed Realm, and the secrets of the Immortal Realms—all remained etched in his mind.

But it was the Celestial Inverse Bead that stirred his heart the most. He could scarcely believe that this very artifact had ignited a cataclysmic war amongst the Four Immortal Realms, ages ago!

“That ancient conflict must have been infinitely more terrible than the war between Luo Tian and the Alliance…” he murmured, as he passed through a veil of stardust. Halting his steps, he turned and gazed into the distance.

Moments later, the fabric of space rippled, and Qingshui stepped forth, his gaze filled with admiration.

“Greetings, brother,” Wang Lin said calmly, a faint smile gracing his lips.

“You now possess the strength to wander the stars, and I can rest easier,” Qingshui responded, closing the distance between them.

Immediately, Wang Lin sensed a potent aura of bloodlust emanating from Qingshui, and he noted that his brother’s power had grown significantly in the past four suns!

“I overheard whispers of your name, so I silenced those skulking Alliance cultivators,” Qingshui declared. His words were concise, but Wang Lin understood the carnage they implied. Indeed, the Alliance had maintained a ceaseless hunt for the imposter Lei Xian, Xu Mu, and even though Wang Lin had entered the Void, they had continued to patrol the surrounding space, albeit divided into two groups watching the Luo Tian sector.

Fate, however, had dealt the Alliance a cruel blow. Qingshui, like a vengeful wraith, had stumbled upon one of these groups, slaughtering them all without mercy. Even their leader had fallen prey to Qingshui’s insatiable hunger.

Wang Lin reached into his storage pouch and released the soul of Xuanbao Elder, sending it adrift towards Qingshui.

Without hesitation, Qingshui seized the soul, his fingers piercing its skull. He channeled his divine essence, and the Xuanbao Elder awoke, his screams echoing in the void as his body writhed in agony.

Qingshui’s face grew grim, his eyes sealed shut. After a long moment, he opened them, revealing a chilling frost in his gaze. With a flick of his wrist, he returned the soul to Wang Lin.

Wang Lin accepted the Xuanbao Elder’s spirit, now devoid of all intelligence, merely an empty vessel filled with divine essence.

The celestial being, once a proud disciple of the Heavenly Treasure Elder, was reduced to this wretched state. It was a grim reminder that in the unforgiving realm of cultivation, even immortals could fall, and only the strongest could hope to escape such fates.

Wang Lin stowed the soulless husk, his gaze returning to Qingshui. Though outwardly composed, a hint of ferocity flickered in Qingshui’s eyes. He had unearthed a clue from the depths of the Xuanbao Elder’s mind!

“Xu Mu, I must venture into the Alliance’s Killing Domain to retrieve something. Will you accompany me?” Qingshui asked, his voice steady.

Wang Lin paused, considering the matter. “Might I have ten suns, brother?” he replied.

Qingshui nodded. “Very well. I shall seek you out in ten suns,” he stated. Without another word, Qingshui stepped into the Nothingness, vanishing in an instant, leaving behind only a lingering chill. Wang Lin sighed inwardly. He knew that Qingshui had discovered something significant within the Xuanbao Elder’s memories. After a moment of reflection, Wang Lin turned and walked forward, ripples spreading beneath his feet as he merged with the fabric of reality.

He had requested ten suns for two reasons! Within the northern reaches of the Alliance star domain was a cultivation star, far removed from the recent conflicts. Untouched by war, the planet flourished with vibrant life, its surface cloaked in endless forests. It was here…
This was a Seventh Tier Cultivation Star! Orbiting it were three smaller stars, lesser satellites in its celestial dance.

The Seventh Tier Cultivation Star bore a name of somber beauty: it was called Darkmoon.

Upon Darkmoon, vast swathes of land were consumed by ancient forests. Scattered amidst the trees were humble villages of mortals, nestled in the valleys and upon gentle slopes. Among the grand mountains and winding rivers stood the fortresses and sanctuaries of numerous cultivation sects.

In the southern reaches stood a prominent peak, known to the locals as Sky Mountain. It was a mountain of tremendous height, so that from its base, one could only glimpse the swirling mists, uncertain if its summit truly pierced the heavens themselves.

A narrow path of weathered stone snaked down from the lofty heights, its greater part lost within the veil of clouds. To gaze upon it filled one’s heart with a sense of ethereal wonder, as if witnessing the dwelling place of immortals.

Each dawn, the resonant chime of bells drifted from the mountain’s peak, echoing across the surrounding lands. Graceful birds, mere specks against the cerulean canvas, soared through the mists, circling Sky Mountain in a spiraling dance. Their piercing cries intermingled with the reverberating tolls, creating a symphony of nature and the sacred.

This scene, a tapestry woven of light and shadow, possessed a quiet elegance, a semblance of a haven untouched by the world’s woes.

“Dong…Dong…Dong…” The mountain’s bells, like the parting of the ethereal veil, drifted slowly downwards, instilling a sense of tranquility in all who heard them.

At the mountain’s foot nestled a modest village, home to no more than a hundred souls. Surrounding the homes were groves of apricot trees, laden with blossoms. The gentle breeze carried their sweet perfume, permeating the air with an intoxicating fragrance.

The scent of apricots carried a hint of enchantment, subtly seeping into the mind.

The bells seemed to chase away the chill of night. With the first chime, the village stirred, plumes of smoke began to rise from hearth fires, and the barks of awakened dogs echoed through the air.

The wisps of smoke, like phantom tendrils, seemed to dissolve the last vestiges of twilight. From afar, the blend of motion and stillness within the village created a scene rich with meaning.

Wang Lin stood silently, watching the village unfold before him.

The rising smoke and swaying apricot trees brought a sense of vibrancy, while the aged homes stood as a testament to time’s enduring power. This delicate dance between the dynamic and the static, infused the village with a peculiar blend of human warmth and industry. It stirred within Wang Lin a memory both familiar and haunting.

He did not recall this particular village, but rather the childhood of Vermillion Bird.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the sound of children’s rhymes echoed from nearby, accompanied by the delicate jingle of bells in the serene morning air.

“Apricot tree, blooms white,
Maiden, keep from the priest’s light.
Youngest son climbed the mountain’s steep,
Year’s end found him in death’s deep sleep.
The maiden’s wails attend the dead,
The coffin’s wood her bridal bed…
Apricot tree, blooms white,
Child, from the priest take flight.
If of my age you wish to know,
No sacred ties for me to show.
The dog will bark, the cat will scratch,
And send the priest back to his batch!”

The innocent voices reached Wang Lin’s ears, growing louder as the bells drew nearer. A young boy, clad in simple cloth, rode atop a yellow ox, making his way along the dirt path toward the village.

Attached to the ox’s nose ring were two small bells, their sounds chiming with each step. Behind the ox followed several calves.

Spotting Wang Lin, the boy approached without hesitation. Singing his rhyme, he drew near. Upon reaching Wang Lin, he tilted his head, his large eyes blinked with curiosity, and he spoke in a clear voice, “Good uncle, are you lost?”

A smile touched Wang Lin’s face. He nodded, replying, “What is this place called?”

The boy pointed towards the village, his youthful voice ringing out, “This is Apricot Village!”

With a flick of the reins, he guided the ox onwards, disappearing into the village, leaving only the lingering echo of his rhyme.

Wang Lin sighed. The rhyme, though simple, carried a subtle undercurrent of sorrow. He muttered to himself, “Darkmoon Star, a village at the foot of Sky Mountain… This is the place.”

In his mind, the faint whispers of a dying friend echoed.

“Please…take my ashes back to Darkmoon Star in the Alliance Domain. There is Sky Mountain… and beneath it, a village…take my ashes there…”