Ninety-nine years had slipped by with the whisper of wind through the astral planes since Wang Lin stepped into the Realm of Seven Colors.

In those nine decades and nine, the Alliance Star System was convulsed by earth-shattering changes. The Four Sacred Sects, with a display of overwhelming power, swept aside the tattered remnants of the Cultivation Alliance, forcing the Corpse Yin Sect, initially reluctant, to join their ranks against the legions of Luo Tian.

The Corpse Yin Sect had harbored no initial desire to participate, content to play the role of vultures, feasting on the spoils of war. Nestled as they were between Luo Tian and the Four Sacred Sects, both sides seemingly required their aid for ultimate victory.

The Corpse Yin Sect cared not that Luo Tian were invaders from beyond the Kun Xu Starfield. Their only concern lay in the bounty of flesh the war brought to their doors. The Guang Yin branch even yearned for an endless war, a perpetual harvest of corpses.

But all their schemes were shattered by a single being: the Azure Dragon Sacred Emperor. He, alone, strode into the Corpse Yin Sect’s dominion, and with his own hand slew countless elders. He crippled the remaining kings of the Corpse Yin, forcing the reclusive Sect Master, the First King, from his decades of seclusion. The clash between them echoed throughout the very fabric of the Star System!

In the end, the First King of the Corpse Yin Sect was utterly vanquished. Had the Azure Dragon Sacred Emperor wished it, his death would have been swift, but the Emperor had other intentions.

This single battle struck terror into the heart of the Corpse Yin Sect, forcing them to acknowledge the true might of the Four Sacred Sects and instilling in them a primal fear of the Azure Dragon Sacred Emperor.

The Corpse Yin Sect was left with no choice but to heed the commands of the Four Sacred Sects and join the war against Luo Tian.

This was a conflict that spanned the realms of rain and cloud, a clash of civilizations. It was in the midst of this war that Tuo Sen awoke, shattering the ancient formations and emerging from the Vermillion Bird Star!

His sudden appearance sent tremors of dread through the ranks of Luo Tian. Tuo Sen, guided by nothing but his whims, was immediately provoked by a Luo Tian cultivator. He descended upon the battlefield, and with a single, merciless sweep, slaughtered tens of thousands of Luo Tian warriors! After the carnage, Tuo Sen turned and departed, uttering but a single, chilling phrase: “Too weak.”

No Luo Tian cultivator dared pursue him, not even the elusive Scholar Lu, who, in utter horror, fled the Alliance Star System, never again daring to set foot within its boundaries!

Fortunately, Tuo Sen did not linger long within the Alliance Star System. He traveled first to the Four Sacred Sects, where he unleashed the power of the Ancient God, combined with the star point upon his brow. With a single, devastating blow, he gravely wounded the Azure Dragon Sacred Emperor and shattered the very fabric of the Four Sacred Sects’ domain, leaving the eastern reaches riddled with countless rifts, making passage impossible. Yet, he did not slay the Azure Dragon Sacred Emperor, uttering the same dismissive words: “You, too weak!”

He then turned his gaze upon the Vermillion Bird Sacred Sect, and upon the eternally burning flame that defined them. With a mere wave of his hand, the sacred flame was extinguished, snuffed out in an instant. “This flame offends my sight!” he declared, and no member of the Vermillion Bird Sect dared to voice their defiance.

Tuo Sen then departed for the Kun Xu lands, where he clashed with the ancient sage residing within, imprisoning him within his own brow. With the power of the God Extinguishing Spear, he shattered the entire Kun Xu, turning the ancient sanctuary, once thought to be eternal, into a forgotten memory.

Mu Bingmei, caught in the destruction, saw her mortal form shattered, her nascent soul wounded and lost to the cosmos. Tuo Sen, deeming her unworthy of pursuit, merely left a mark upon her before allowing her to flee.

Next came the Corpse Yin Sect, who suffered Tuo Sen’s wrath because he could not find Wang Lin. After countless deaths, Tuo Sen departed.

Tuo Sen’s final destination was the Rain Immortal Realm, now sealed away. Before the seal, Tuo Sen seemed to show a sign of concern for the first time, but his arrogance only grew, as if to match his concern.

But as he was about to act, Qing Nong appeared outside the Rain Immortal Realm. The two spoke, but the content of their conversation remains unknown. After their conversation, Tuo Sen seemed pensive, but nodded his head before turning and departing the Alliance Star System. He left with the controlled Ancient Qi Refiners to an unknown place.

He continued his search for the one he sought to consume.

Yet, the one he sought seemed to have vanished from the face of the cosmos. No matter how Tuo Sen strained his senses, he could not detect so much as a single trace.

Tuo Sen’s appearance wrought havoc upon the Alliance Star System, leading to an uneasy peace. The Luo Tian cultivators, intimidated by his power, retreated from the Alliance Star System. The war, which had raged for centuries, ended because of Tuo Sen. As he left, Tuo Sen roared, “Wang Lin, where are you!?”

Those same words were also muttered from Luo Yunhai, Mo Luo Continent’s Gui Yi Sect, from Lü Yanfei’s mouth. “Senior, where are you… there is only a year before the main sect’s competition… can you return…?”

In the Cloud Sea Star System, the Violet Dao Sect had flourished over the past century, becoming one of the top six sects in the fifth-level star system. The sect master, Lu Yuncong, often looked at the starry sky in a daze, as if trying to recall something. Only the old man who always followed Lu Yuncong occasionally heard him muttering to himself.

“Brother Lü, I benefited greatly from our discussions back then, but now that a century has passed, why have I not heard any news about you… My cultivation has improved. If you and I could meet again…”

Similarly, deep within the forbidden zone in the ninth-level star system, where the Demon Sect resided, Li Qianmei stood upon the strange battlefield, her blue hair flowing as she slaughtered ferocious beasts.

The other cultivators who had come with her looked upon the blue-haired woman with respect and awe. But many secretly admired her.

There were countless cultivators here, many of whom had become famous due to the endless beast tides.

But in the constant slaughter and resistance against the beast tides, many cultivators perished. This happened almost every day.
As the eons drifted onward, the tide of beasts swelled into a cataclysmic fury. The monstrous creatures of the twelfth tier multiplied, and from the churning depths of the horde arose horrors of the thirteenth tier, their appearances marking epochs of ruin and despair for the cultivators who stood against them.

The warriors of the Demon Sect were the vanguard, their strength unmatched. Few indeed were those from the other sects who earned their respect, for in the eyes of the demon-kin, most were but paltry diversions, absorbing the remnants of the beasts’ savagery. Yet, within those hundred years of unending war, four souls had distinguished themselves, earning the Demon Sect’s acknowledgement. Li Qianmei was among them.

It was known amongst nearly all who fought that Li Qianmei possessed a treasure of potent magic: a golden brush. With each stroke, she summoned forth glyphs of immense power, capable of rending even the toughest hide.

Yet, even those within the Demon Sect who sought to gaze upon the brush, to glean its secrets, were met with a firm refusal. Her usual placid demeanor hardened, revealing a resolve of iron.

Once, amidst a furious onslaught of twelfth-tier beasts, Li Qianmei fell, grievously wounded and unconscious. Her golden brush was lost upon the bloodied field. Rescued by her Demon Sect brethren, she awoke with a start. Ignoring their pleas, her hair unbound, she gritted her teeth, a fiery determination burning in her eyes, and charged back into the fray, solely to reclaim her golden treasure.

From that day forward, every cultivator knew: the golden brush was Li Qianmei’s most precious possession.

“Where do you abide now…? It has been nearly a century, unbeknownst to me…” Li Qianmei sat cross-legged upon a crude, makeshift altar. Her face was pale, etched with the lines of injury. Before her, within the swirling mists, the roars of countless beasts echoed as they were held at bay by the desperate efforts of the allied cultivators.

Lost in thought, she seemed oblivious to the carnage, deaf to the savage cries. Her head tilted upward, her gaze fixed on a distant, unreachable horizon.

Across the vast Cloud Sea Starfield, concealed within a shroud of mist, lay a desolate, primeval continent. Mu Bingmei, her primordial spirit shattered, had fled here, using forbidden Kun Xu techniques to pierce the boundaries and begin the agonizing process of reconstituting her mortal form.

Broken by Tuo Sen’s cruel assault, her flesh torn asunder, she harbored but a single, burning desire: to behold Wang Lin once more…

“Wang Lin, I pray you are well…” Within a mountain cave on that desolate continent, Mu Bingmei slowly opened her eyes, their beauty undimmed. A profound loneliness, unlike any she had ever known, washed over her.

She felt a chilling cold, a bitter isolation in this alien land as she sat alone in meditation. The cold seeped into her very core, mingling with the howling winds that echoed outside the cave, each gust a mournful reminder of her solitude.

Meanwhile, in the Seven-Colored Realm, shrouded in perpetual darkness after the light had faded, a strange, ethereal force enveloped the peak where Wang Lin’s spirit and soul had dissipated. None could penetrate its barrier.

Yun Hunzi, the ancient sage, attempted to breach it, but was thwarted. He was forced to find refuge nearby, a hermit, forever gazing at the impenetrable darkness, marking the passage of a century.

Chen Tianjun and the green-robed crone remained trapped within the Seven-Colored Realm as well, their days measured only by the oppressive darkness.

Upon the summit, beneath the veil of ethereal power, lay a motionless form. It was Wang Lin’s body, preserved by the immortal grace of his Ancient God flesh. A century had passed, yet decay dared not touch him, holding him in a timeless stasis, covered only by the dust of ages.

Beyond the bounds of the inner and outer realms, within a strange starfield born to nurture the Seven-Colored Flower, the crimson petals pulsed with life. The fruit, once a bud, had grown to the size of a man’s fist, and the moment of its final maturation was near.

Then, within the fruit, a remnant consciousness flickered to life, absorbing the fruit’s strange essence, growing stronger, coalescing into a pearlescent bead. In that instant of creation, Wang Lin stirred, as if waking from a profound dream…

His awakening, triggered by the birth of the Heavenly Bending Bead, went unnoticed. Not even the caretaker of the flowers perceived the earth-shattering change within the ripening fruit. A change that could shake the heavens and earth, that could alter the course of all existence, within the realm and without…

The caretaker once boasted that he would not suffer the burnt fingers of one who plays with fire. He possessed an unflinching confidence… but how long would that confidence endure? “Will it?” “It shall!”