Within the shattered remains of the Immortal Emperor’s grotto, the Celestial Chess Pool lay in ruins. All were thrown asunder by the concussive force, scattered like startled birds, each falling into a different realm, triggering the dormant seals.

In one such place, activated by the chaos, lay a primeval jungle. Trees of immense girth, requiring many arms to encircle, stood as sentinels. Their verdant canopy choked the sky, allowing only meager shafts of sunlight to pierce through, painting the undergrowth in ethereal beams.

The earth beneath was a carpet of decaying leaves, so deep that a single step could sink one to the waist. The stench of rot mingled with the decaying bones of monstrous beasts, a miasma that threatened to turn the stomach.

Deeper within the emerald labyrinth, the foliage grew ever denser, further diminishing the light. A perpetual twilight reigned, heavy with a chilling dampness that clung to the soul.

Here, in the jungle’s deepest heart, amidst the putrid foliage, sat a figure, still as a statue.

His form was a mountain of muscle, bare to the waist. Upon his brow, a crimson rune pulsed with an unholy light. Around him, a macabre circle of slain beasts lay in pools of their own blood, filling the air with the tang of iron and death.

A disturbing detail marked each creature: a raw, gaping wound where the fur above the brow had been brutally flayed away, exposing the glistening flesh beneath.

The strips of fur, pilfered from the fallen, lay piled upon the man’s lap, emitting a faint, unearthly luminescence.

At last, the man stirred, his eyes snapping open, unleashing twin beams of terrible power. His gaze swept across the horizon, and after a long silence, he muttered to himself, “The power of the Ancestral Rune, though not fully absorbed, has granted me a greater understanding of the Art of Withered Runes… yet the image of my former master remains, an unwelcome specter in my memories…” He sighed, a tremor in the air, and closed his eyes once more.

Far away, within the crushing depths of the sea, Wang Lin retracted his gaze from the great sword, and with a flick of his finger, the weapon returned to his grasp. He plucked the Withered Rune from its surface and stored it within his pouch.

“With this rune,” he mused, “my defenses in times of peril are strengthened. The Art is indeed profound. Once I leave this Demonic Lands, I must seize the opportunity to craft more. Yet, according to the records within that orb of azure energy, the finest material for these runes is the fur from a beast’s brow.”

“The more savage the creature, the more potent the fur. The very power of the rune is intrinsically linked to the material. And in the act of harvesting, one must invoke specific spells, binding the beast’s essence and soul to the fur itself…”

Wang Lin pondered, then took a deep breath. He reached into his pouch once more, and as a streak of yellow light, a crystalline shard appeared in his palm.

Gazing upon it, Wang Lin’s face darkened with concern. Of all the treasures within the Immortal Emperor’s grotto, this yellow crystal remained the most enigmatic.

He could sense a terrifying energy emanating from within, a power he dared not probe with his spiritual sense.

“The mysterious being within the great hall, if indeed he was Qing Lin… what was his purpose in giving me this?” Wang Lin stared at the crystal, lost in contemplation.

He remembered all too well the moment when the luminous fragment, that was the split spirit of Qing Lin, had melded into the crystal. Yet now, no matter how hard he peered, he could detect no trace of it.

It was as if Qing Lin’s fragment had vanished, as if all he had seen during the teleportation was nothing more than an illusion conjured by his own mind.

After a long, silent vigil, Wang Lin withdrew his gaze. He refused to risk exploring the crystal with his spirit, suppressing the urge with all his might.

He felt, with a creeping dread, that should he allow his consciousness to merge with it, some unforeseen and detrimental consequence would surely follow.

It was a sensation of utter vagueness, a subtle hint he had honed over a millennium of cultivation.

“It is time to leave this place.” Wang Lin rose, his movements as fluid as a serpent, and ascended, the bubble around him following his every move.

From above, the sea was an expanse of cerulean blue. Yet beneath, it was a realm of ink-black darkness. For Wang Lin, however, it was no hindrance. As the bubble ascended, the water parted before it, clearing a path to the surface.

All the while, Wang Lin’s eyes blazed with calculation, but as he was about to break the surface, he paused abruptly. Without hesitation, he thrust his hands outwards, pushing against the confines of the bubble.

Instantly, the bubble shattered with a deafening roar. A shockwave pulsed outwards, directed upward with all the force Wang Lin could muster. At the same moment, as the shockwave spread, a collision, a thunderous echo filled the heavens.

Even the sea quaked. Wang Lin felt the water around him compress under some immense pressure.

His face was an impassive mask. He did not rise to the surface, but instead, fled from the compressed area, and peering upwards, he saw the sky. The air above thrummed with an oppressive demonic energy, coiling like monstrous serpents.

At the epicenter of this demonic miasma, stood a solitary figure. Cloaked entirely in swirling darkness, its features were obscured. Yet, Wang Lin perceived it to be a woman.

Moments before he reached the surface, Wang Lin had sensed a wave of power hurtling towards him, targeted at his very location. That was why he had shattered the bubble.

“Wang Lin, show yourself!” A voice filled with burning hatred reverberated throughout the world, and whipped the sea into a frenzy of roaring waves. Hearing this voice, Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed.

“Yao Xixue!” Though he could not see her clearly, the familiar feeling of it and the sound of that oh so familiar voice told Wang Lin who it was. He smiled bitterly to himself. The complex tapestry of fate and hatred that bound him to Yao Xixue. Once, she had sought to use him, harboring cruel intentions. Her sin was the first, and Wang Lin had no choice but to bring retribution. But, at the time, his cultivation was far below, a matter that forced him to seal her.

For the Blood Ancestor, Wang Lin had respect. All that he had done was for the sake of his daughter. Wang Lin knew, that he would act as the Blood Ancestor if someone sought harm to Wang Ping. Wang Lin felt that he would make things clear.

The Blood Ancestor had not given Wang Lin the chance to explain. When Wang Lin has the cultivation of today, the Blood Ancestor may have chosen a different path.

Wang Lin never considered returning Yao Xixue to the Blood Ancestor, for there was no chance for him to do such a thing.

Coming to this Demonic Lands, Wang Lin knew he might meet Yao Xixue, but he didn’t think such a demoniacal aura of someone he had never seen before could be her.

But now, Wang Lin looks to the woman, and sighs once more.

These thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant. Yao Xixue’s words repeated beside him.

“Wang Lin, come out!! Let us settle the score!” Her hands formed a sign, and she unleashed her demonic energy. The demonic dragons of the sky roared and crashed towards the ocean. The waves roared into the sky.

The waves roared in a frenzy. Wang Lin sighs, and then breaks the surface, heading to the sky.

Seeing Wang Lin, Yao Xixue looks at him with hate. But her body walks from the miasma. She was scarred.

Her skin revealed hideous scars. Wang Lin saw and grimaced.

Visions of his past, where she was a beauty, flashed. It was impossible to imagine her in the face of this visage.

“Who can define right and wrong… yet, her father’s spirit is in my Celestial Sealing mark, and her body, is broken… was I wrong?” Wang Lin had always done everything without guilt.

“Wang Lin, you sealed me for centuries! I hated it, but I understand. The hatred of the father will never be forgiven. I cannot kill you, but others will!!” Yao Xixue looks at Wang Lin with hatred!