Not only she, but the three maidens at her side, turned their fair eyes towards the heavens. The name of Wang Lin had become nigh a forbidden word upon the Sky Fortune Star! Yet, the more it was suppressed, the more whispered tales of this Wang Lin abounded.

Upon the Sky Fortune Sect’s grand plaza, Bai Wei stood, a storm of emotions brewing within. She gazed skyward, lost in contemplation, finding it hard to fathom what the youth of yore had become.

Beside her loomed a man of middle years, his visage a thunderous darkness. Clad in robes of deepest violet, his eyes blazed like twin suns. He fixed his gaze upon the horizon, a chilling snort escaping his lips.

“Wang Lin… even if you yet draw breath, surely your cultivation has stagnated. I wonder, how fares the distance ‘twixt you and Zhao Xing Sha this day?”

Bai Wei cast a wary glance towards her imposing elder brother, a touch of trepidation in her heart. In recent years, Zhao Xing Sha’s power had soared through seclusion and enlightenment, shattering the boundaries of the Asking realm, poised to step into the very domain of Void Glimpse! “Zhao Xing Sha ascended to one of the Sky Fortune Seven thirty years hence. He bears an old grudge against Wang Lin. Should they meet, a bloodletting is nigh unavoidable.”

Near to them stood another woman, her spirit drooping like a wilted flower. Though her gaze was also fixed on the sky, she seemed detached from all that transpired. This was none other than the fourth daughter of the Violet lineage, Wang Lin’s fourth senior sister! In days past, she had been forced by Zhao Xing Sha to ensnare Wang Lin with her arcane arts. Though Wang Lin escaped her prison, she later gifted him with the technique of Greater Teleportation, mending the rift between them.

Further afield, a young man stood, appearing no older than thirty summers. He was garbed in azure silks, upon whose breast were embroidered three mighty blue dragons. The dragons were depicted in ferocious detail, their eyes radiating a piercing, almost sentient light.

If Wang Lin were to behold him, he would not be a stranger. It was Sima Ru Feng of the Blue lineage, who, alongside the fourth senior sister of the Violet branch, had once imprisoned Wang Lin! Within the Sky Fortune Sect, all those who once knew Wang Lin were now lost in their own thoughts. Yet, not a single soul believed that Wang Lin would leave this place alive, should he dare to appear.

Then, as all eyes strained towards the distant horizon, a figure in white emerged from the edge of the world, walking slowly, deliberately, towards them.

Dark hair flowed freely, catching the sunlight in such a way as to reveal hints of violet, a striking contrast to the white of his robes, further emphasizing his otherworldly bearing. Alone he came, clad in snow-white garments, drifting closer with each step.

A mournful aura, tinged with millennia of solitude, emanated from him. He drew near, the fiery sun at his back casting his face in shadow, revealing only his bright eyes, which seemed to hold the weight of ages.

The tableau was breathtaking in its beauty.

Though he seemed far away, in but a heartbeat, the figure stood at the very gates of the Sky Fortune Sect! “Wang Lin!” “Wang Lin!!”

A chorus of voices arose, recognizing him at once! “He… is Wang Lin…” murmured the maiden in pink, her beautiful eyes fixed upon the approaching figure in white.

Ling Tian Hou’s gaze was as sharp as any blade, filled with the intent to kill. The moment he laid eyes upon Wang Lin, a frown creased his brow. Though his expression remained grim, a flicker of shock crossed his face. “Early stage of Spirit Void!! This Wang Lin was but a nascent soul in his time! How could he achieve such heights in a mere century?! Only a celestial fortune could bring about such a change! And that mark upon his brow…” A tempest raged within Ling Tian Hou’s heart.

The elder, corpulent as a mountain, snapped open his eyes, which had been closed in meditation. Beams of light shot forth, and he stared at Wang Lin with unconcealed disbelief.

The wizened elder, gaunt as a corpse, also stirred, casting a meaningful glance at Wang Lin, then at Sky Fortune, a knowing look upon his face.

As for the elder in black and white robes, perched atop a gourd, he was taken aback. A smile played upon his lips, though his eyes flickered with an unfathomable light.

“The Vermillion Bird mark!” exclaimed the middle-aged woman who resembled a village girl, her eyes fixed on Wang Lin.

If these ancient beings were so affected, imagine the reactions of the surrounding cultivators. Few could discern Wang Lin’s true cultivation, yet all felt a palpable pressure emanating from him the moment he appeared.

The maiden in pink gazed at Wang Lin, her eyes sparkling with interest.

All this unfolded in an instant, the myriad reactions of those assembled laid bare before Wang Lin’s eyes. He brushed down his robes, his expression calm, yet filled with a quiet confidence. He clasped his hands towards Sky Fortune in the distance, bowing respectfully. “Disciple Wang Lin greets his master!”

Sky Fortune’s eyes shone with an unusual light as he studied the mark upon Wang Lin’s brow. After a long moment, a smile slowly spread across his face. “It is good to have you back, Wang Lin. These esteemed elders have questions for you. Answer them truthfully.”

“Wang Lin, you little whelp! You dare return?!” bellowed a middle-aged man standing behind Ling Tian Hou, pointing an accusing finger at Wang Lin. “You slaughtered countless members of my Great Luo Sword Sect in the Demon Spirit Land. Today, you shall pay in blood!”

Wang Lin’s smile remained unwavering, yet his eyes were as cold as glacial ice. He glanced at the man who spoke, his voice measured and calm. “Senior Ling Tian Hou, does this underling have the right to address me in such a manner?”

Ling Tian Hou’s face darkened, his gaze fixed upon the Vermillion Bird mark emblazoned upon Wang Lin’s brow. The mark gave him pause, but what truly shook him were the two other forces that emanated from Wang Lin’s brow! “What celestial fortunes has this Wang Lin encountered in the past centuries? How has he undergone such a transformation?!”

After a heavy silence, Ling Tian Hou swept his sleeve, and the middle-aged man who had raged against Wang Lin stumbled back, retreating to his place in the ranks.

“Indeed, he has no right to speak to you so. To reach the early stage of Spirit Void at your tender age… to put aside all grudges, even I, this old one, am filled with a measure of admiration!” Ling Tian Hou’s voice was laced with icy intent.
The declaration reverberated like thunder, a tempest unleashed upon a placid sea. It was as if a ladle of cold water had been thrown into a cauldron of boiling oil, causing the assembled cultivators to blanch, their expressions a mixture of shock and disbelief. Bai Wei gasped, his gaze fixed on Wang Lin, his mind reeling. How could this be? Only centuries past, Wang Lin was but an infant, yet now he stood as a rumored Nirvana Scryer! “A Scryer of Nirvana…” he whispered, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

As for Zhao Xingsha, he stood rooted, his body trembling, his face a mask of disbelief. The words he’d just heard were simply impossible to comprehend.

And it was not just these two. Every cultivator present felt the foundations of their understanding tremble beneath their feet. Such a revelation was simply too fantastical, too far removed from the realm of possibility.

“This Wang Lin has achieved the Nirvana Scryer realm? While still beneath us, he has earned the right to be considered a peer. We cannot dismiss him as a mere youth.” The elder perched upon a gourd narrowed his eyes, a flicker of amusement gracing his lips. “Wang Lin,” he said, “I ask you, why did you flee into that vortex, seeking escape from our presence all those years ago? Did you harbor secrets you wished to conceal?”

“Indeed, I stirred up trouble within the Demon Spirit Land,” Wang Lin replied, his face betraying no emotion. “I had no choice but to depart.”

“What manner of trouble?” The cadaverous elder, his eyes like chips of ice, demanded, his voice raspy and menacing.

“In self-defense, I imprisoned the Blood Ancestor’s daughter!” Wang Lin stated plainly. “Seeing you elders and the Blood Ancestor in pursuit, escape was my only recourse.”

Upon these words, a corpulent elder, his body resembling a mountain of flesh, shifted, his voice resonating with authority. “The Immortal Abode Token… does it lie within your grasp?”

“From whom did you hear such a tale, elder?” Wang Lin met the fleshy mountain’s gaze, unflinching. The man’s cultivation was merely at the initial stage of Nirvana Insight, and Wang Lin recalled no such figure amongst his pursuers from that distant time.

The fleshy elder, caught in Wang Lin’s gaze, felt a tremor in his heart, his expression twisting with unease and suspicion.

“Enough,” Tian Yunzi interjected, his demeanor calm and benevolent. “Wang Lin, I ask you, does the Immortal Abode Token reside in your possession?”

Wang Lin turned to his master, bowing respectfully. “Since my master inquires, I cannot refuse to answer. Within the Demon Spirit Land, I did indeed acquire an Immortal Abode Token.”

As these words left Wang Lin’s lips, several elders felt a surge of power erupt within them, their faces hardening. A palpable pressure descended, focusing its weight upon Wang Lin’s shoulders.

“Wang Lin, relinquish the token, and your life may yet be spared!” The elder seated upon the gourd spoke, his gaze lingering on the mark etched upon Wang Lin’s brow.

“You are unworthy to wield the token,” the fleshy elder growled, his eyes burning with malice.

Before Wang Lin could respond, Ling Tianhou, who had remained shrouded in darkness, unleashed a chillingly sharp glint of killing intent. “Why waste words? The token is his. We know the truth!”

With a chilling snort, he thrust his hand forward, unleashing a devastating blade of energy that hurtled towards Wang Lin.

Wang Lin stood his ground. As the blade drew near, he took a step back, his fist clenched, and with a roar, met the attack head-on. A thunderous shockwave ripped through the air, echoing through the mountain peaks. A swirling vortex of darkness erupted from Wang Lin’s fist, colliding with Ling Tianhou’s blade.

In that instant, Tian Yunzi’s eyes flashed. With a sweeping gesture of his sleeve, a gust of iridescent wind swept between Ling Tianhou and Wang Lin.

The wind, imbued with a strange power, extinguished the dark vortex around Wang Lin’s fist, and with equal ease, deflected Ling Tianhou’s blade.

With effortless grace, he had neutralized the conflict.

“Ling Tianhou,” Tian Yunzi said, his voice even, his gaze fixed on Ling Tianhou. “To attack my disciple within the confines of the Heaven’s Fortune Sect… is that not a grave insult to my presence?”

“Tian Yunzi, do you intend to hoard the token for yourself?!” Ling Tianhou hissed, the four spectral swords of his nascent soul circling him protectively. He glared at Tian Yunzi, his voice dripping with venom.