“Enter, Fourth Sister,” Wang Lin spoke, his voice as still as a mountain pool.

A heavy exhalation brushed against the doorframe. After a long, pregnant silence, the door creaked inward, revealing a woman of sinuous grace clad in robes of deep violet. Her lower lip trembled slightly, caught between her teeth as she stepped across the threshold.

Though not graced with the breathtaking beauty of a willow-thin brow or a crimson butterfly’s wing, the woman possessed a striking loveliness nonetheless. Yet etched upon her face were the subtle markings of time, hinting at experiences weathered, like the sands of a distant shore.

Once within the chamber, she settled silently onto a nearby chair, her gaze not meeting Wang Lin’s. Her eyes, pools of unfocused longing, stared vacantly ahead, lost in a somber reverie.

The room fell silent, broken only by the whisper of unseen energies. Wang Lin closed his eyes, resuming his meditative posture. But almost at once, he sensed it – a faint, hesitant tendril of spiritual awareness, probing from the woman’s brow.

The tendril, slow and almost apologetic in its approach, reached towards Wang Lin. It seemed to falter, as if wracked by inner turmoil.

At the instant of its closest approach, Wang Lin’s eyes snapped open. A flash of pure, searing light erupted from within their depths. The tendril of spiritual energy recoiled, shuddering violently. It froze, suspended in the air, rendered utterly immobile.

The violet-robed woman paled, her face ashen. She could feel, with chilling certainty, that the slightest twitch of her errant spiritual power would invite instant, devastating annihilation.

Wang Lin held the woman in his unwavering gaze. Then, he released his spiritual grip, allowing the wayward awareness to retreat back into its vessel. The woman stood naked before his sight, her secrets laid bare. He saw six potent seals, etched deep within her essence, suppressing her true potential. The power she exhibited outwardly was no more than that of a nascent Soul Transformation cultivator.

In his past life, Wang Lin would never have glimpsed such subtle layers of manipulation. But now, with his current strength, a single glance sufficed to unravel the entirety of her being.

A frown creased Wang Lin’s brow. He spoke slowly, his voice a low rumble. “Fourth Sister, what business brings you here?”

The woman parted her lips as if to speak, but the words caught in her throat, swallowed by a deeper unease.

“If you have no pressing matter, Fourth Sister, I shall bid you farewell,” Wang Lin said, rising.

With a flick of his sleeve, a gentle gust of wind swept across the chamber, nudging the violet-robed woman. She stumbled back, as if borne upon the breeze, towards the open doorway. As she reached the threshold, a flicker of resolute determination ignited within her eyes. “Wang Lin,” she whispered, her voice strained, “your cultivation has reached the Second Step. Do you not fear the dangers that lurk within the Heavenly Fate Sect?”

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed. With a gesture, he reached through the air, pulling the woman back into the room. “What meaning lies behind your words, Sister?” he asked, his tone devoid of emotion.

The woman gritted her teeth, lifting her gaze to meet his. “You escaped in time, years ago. Had you remained within the Heavenly Fate Sect these past centuries, you would have vanished without a trace!”

“Have you not noticed? Within this sect, save for the Master, among all the disciples, both inner and outer, even among the seven direct lineages… none of us has achieved the Yin Void stage!”

Wang Lin’s expression remained impassive. He waited, saying nothing.

“Any who surpass the peak of Soul Formation and attain the Yin Void state, disappear mysteriously within the year. This is a forbidden truth within the Heavenly Fate Sect. You were too weak to know these things before, but surely you are aware now.”

Wang Lin’s face remained a mask, devoid of any reaction.

The violet-robed woman, her heart sinking at the lack of any visible effect, pressed on, her voice tinged with desperation. “I know you may not believe me. My name is Zhao Xinmeng. I came to this mountain at the age of seven. I have cultivated within the Heavenly Fate Sect for a millennium…”

Wang Lin cut her off with a shake of his head. “Do you not fear our Master’s wrath, speaking such things?”

“The Master secludes himself every morning at the hour of Mao, locking away his senses. Only matters of dire consequence can rouse him from this state. This has been his habit for millennia,” Zhao Xinmeng replied, her voice laced with urgency. “Wang Lin, I speak only the truth!”

Wang Lin paused, considering her words. After a moment, he fixed his gaze upon her. “Is this the reason for the six seals you bear?”

Zhao Xinmeng was unfazed by the revelation that Wang Lin could see through her deception. Instead, a bitter, self-deprecating smile touched her lips.

“What other choice do I have? My life soul is in the Master’s grasp. I cannot leave. Even if I were to flee, a single thought from him would shatter it, causing my annihilation, no matter where I hid.”

“Many within the sect have chosen to seal themselves, as I have. Sun Hong of the Crimson Lineage has the deepest concealment of all, with eleven seals suppressing her power, halting her at the mid-stage of Soul Formation. Even her comprehension of the Dao is artificially hindered, keeping pace with her stunted cultivation. In truth, were she to release her seals, she would ascend to the initial stage of Nirvana Shattering in short order.”

“There is also Lu Hai of the Scarlet Lineage. Unburdened, he would instantly return to the pinnacle of Yang Completion.”

“These are merely the ones I know of. I am certain there are others, hidden within the Seven Lineages. Individuals of profound power! But we dare not unseal ourselves, nor unleash our true strength. For once the seals are broken, even if reapplied, we will vanish within a year. Even if we were to suffer grievous injuries in battle, causing our cultivation to plummet, those who have never hidden their true power would remain unaffected. But those of us who have suppressed our abilities… we will disappear all the same.”

“As far as I know, the Master has accepted countless disciples throughout his tens of thousands of years… yet not a single one has emerged, or even been spoken of…”

Wang Lin’s expression remained unchanged. The six seals upon Zhao Xinmeng were subtle, cunningly woven. They could easily slip past casual observation. Yet Wang Lin knew that to Heavenly Fate’s eyes, such tricks would be as transparent as glass.

“The Master has never hindered, never even acknowledged, our self-imposed imprisonment…” Zhao Xinmeng’s voice trembled with a fear that ran deep. It was this very lack of interference that unnerved her, that chilled the hearts of all those within the Seven Lineages who chose to conceal their true potential.

“He cares not how we hide ourselves, as if he were truly unaware…”
“…Yet, should the Seal be breached, doom shall befall thee. I recall, five centuries past, a disciple of the Orange Line, whose vessel held a Seal pressed to its very limit. Unable to restrain it, he was forced to open it, only to vanish the next morn, fleeing a fate inescapable. For even should one conceal their cultivation, a day of reckoning arrives. Such a life is unbearable… and a century ago, the Seal upon the Branches began to loosen, granting glimpses of power uncontrollable. Of late, it has only worsened…”

“Save me! Wang Lin, save me! I shall do thy bidding, anything thou asketh, if only thou canst deliver me!” Zhao Xinmeng wept, her voice hoarse, pleading to Wang Lin.

“Know this, though thy return was but yesterday, it has drawn the gaze of every disciple within the Celestial Fortune Sect who hides their true power. They await, with bated breath, thy inevitable vanishing…” Zhao Xinmeng bit her lip, for this truth was forbidden to utter within the hallowed halls of the Sect.

Despair had already taken root in her heart, as the Seal within her loosened day by day. Soon, it would shatter, and the revelation of her true cultivation filled her with dread.

“There are whispers, that all disciples whose strength surpasses the Ascendant stage are… devoured alive by the Master… Wang Lin, I seek not the return of my stolen soul. Only, I beg thee, reinforce the Seal, that my power might be forever bound at the Late Nascent Soul stage.”

Zhao Xinmeng rose to her feet, poised to prostrate herself before Wang Lin.

But Wang Lin, with a wave of his hand, unleashed a gentle force, staying her descent.

He was about to speak, his brow furrowed in thought when suddenly, he sensed a presence outside the pavilion.

Zhao Xinmeng, startled, also became aware of it. After a moment’s consideration, a blush crept onto her face. She moved with grace, and in a flash, she stood beside Wang Lin. Her face flushed crimson, she cast aside her shoes and stepped onto the bed where Wang Lin stood, hiding her form with a swift incantation.

Wang Lin frowned as soft footsteps approached the pavilion.

“Seventh Disciple, Bai Wei seeks an audience.” Bai Wei’s androgynous voice drifted into the room.

Wang Lin held no ill will toward Bai Wei. It was Bai Wei’s subtle warning that had first alerted Wang Lin to the deeper truths regarding the Celestial Fortune Child upon his arrival to the Sect.

“Enter, Brother Bai,” Wang Lin replied, his voice steady. Yet, a faint aroma wafted from beside him, causing slight discomfort.

The door opened, and Bai Wei, as beautiful as ever though weary, entered. Gazing at Wang Lin, he sighed, “After all these years, Seventh Disciple, you have not changed.”

“Nor have you, Brother Bai. Centuries may have passed, yet it feels but as yesterday,” Wang Lin said, a smile gracing his lips.

Bai Wei’s eyes, like pools of water, met Wang Lin’s. He spoke softly, “You err, Seventh Disciple. Call me not ‘Brother Bai’ any longer, but ‘Sister Bai’…”

A look of bewilderment crossed Wang Lin’s face, followed by a wry smile.

Bai Wei, seeing Wang Lin’s expression, covered his mouth as he giggled. He continued, “Does the name ‘Sister Bai’ stick in your throat? I am, after all, a woman.”

Wang Lin, despite his millennia of cultivation and worldly experience, found himself at a loss for words. He cleared his throat and asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Brother Bai?”

Bai Wei raised his delicate eyebrows, his eyes seeming to silently gaze upon Wang Lin.

Under that gaze, even Wang Lin’s peak Nirvana Exaltation cultivation and Ancient God physique began to falter. He forced a laugh and stammered, “Sister… Sister Bai. What brings you here?”

Bai Wei’s face grew stern. “Wang Lin, you should not have returned! This cannot be said clearly here. Do you have time to travel? The Ghost Eye Market on the Celestial Fortune Star is about to open. If you are free, I shall explain all on the journey there.”

Wang Lin hesitated. He had been away for a long time and needed to hear of the events that had transpired over the past centuries. Furthermore, his relationship with Bai Wei had always been amicable, making it difficult to refuse.

He studied Bai Wei. There was no sign of a Seal. Bai Wei’s cultivation was truly at the Late Nascent Soul stage.

“Very well. At noon, I shall meet you at the foot of the Purple Peak Mountain.”