“To attain enlightenment through the very essence of Slaughter, to become a Great Power of the Third Step, one need not rely on the aid of incense offerings.” Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Brother Clear Water’s body houses the essence of Slaughter, sown there by that being of seven hues. Yet, he did not fully claim it, leaving a significant portion behind. This is why, the moment Brother Clear Water’s seal was broken, the Gates of the Void stirred.” In an instant, Wang Lin pieced together the truth.

“But why did the Seven-Colored One not reclaim the essence of Slaughter…? Could it be that his aim was not, as I initially surmised, to acquire this essence…? If not for Slaughter, then what was his true purpose…?”

“What does he seek to extract from Brother Clear Water?!” Wang Lin’s gaze flickered, a growing unease settling within him. Suddenly, a jolt of realization struck him, bringing to mind the sliver of sharpness that had tilted Clear Water’s celestial spirit by mere inches!

“The celestial spirit, the nexus of life and death. The Seven-Colored One claimed that the tilt of that sharpness by those inches was to open the way to Reincarnation… Reincarnation… Reincarnation, a nebulous, ephemeral concept. Could the Seven-Colored One’s true ambition be to plunge Brother Clear Water into a cycle of rebirth fueled by the essence of Slaughter…? Yet, even so, what purpose could it serve…?”

“And his words, ‘I am certain you bear no relation to me.’ Does this imply that Brother Clear Water *is* connected to him…? If so, what is the nature of their bond…?” Wang Lin wrestled with these questions, a sense of grasping at something just beyond his reach.

Since his journey to the Land of Fallen Stars and his acquisition of the Seven-Colored Statue from the greedy Wolf, Wang Lin had sensed a veil of mystery, a mist concealing a grand secret concerning the realms within and without!

This secret, obscured by the nebulous shroud, remained elusive. It was not until the appearance of the grizzled Old Ghost in the first great battle of the Cloud Sea, and the few words he exchanged with the Revered Sovereign, that Wang Lin’s speculations took flight.

Indeed, it seemed to him that the countless battles between the realms within and without were merely facets of a larger scheme hidden behind this mist, a tangled web of cause and effect!

“What is the Seven-Colored One truly seeking…?” Lost in thought, Wang Lin recalled the crystalline stone upon the back of the Xuanwu Tortoise within the Seven-Colored Realm, a stone he had already claimed.

A thunderous roar shattered his reverie. He looked up to see Clear Water’s long hair billowing as he pointed a finger towards the Gates of the Void that had materialized in the sky.

The gates trembled, groaning under some unseen force.

Gazing at the Gates of the Void, a desire ignited within Wang Lin. He yearned to ascend to the Third Step, for only with sufficient cultivation could he pierce the veil of mystery and uncover the secret that lay beyond, only then would he possess the power to revive Li Muwan!

“Life and Death, Cause and Effect, Truth and Illusion… these three Essences I must bring to fruition… The day is drawing near!” Wang Lin’s eyes flashed with a newfound confidence.

“I already possess two Dao Fruits. With one more, my chances of success will be nearly assured! The Third Step… it is within reach!” Wang Lin inhaled deeply. Another deafening rumble echoed as Clear Water, with a triumphant laugh, hurtled toward the Gates of the Void.

With a sweep of his hand, the essence of Slaughter surged forth in a raging torrent. Black snow swirled, coalescing into a magnificent sword that hung in the air. Grasping this blade, Clear Water roared into the heavens, unleashing a devastating slash upon the Gates of the Void!

“Today, this Immortal Lord shall prove his path, cleave open the gates of Heaven, and stride into the Grand Dao!” The power of this single strike shook the very heavens, transforming into a storm of black Slaughter, imbued with maddening ferocity, hurtling towards the Gates.

Closer and closer it flew. In the blink of an eye, the black sword-energy of the Slaughter storm reached the threshold of the Gates of the Void. An earth-shattering boom reverberated across the Wildlands Star and the starry skies beyond.

Under the force of the storm’s impact, fine cracks appeared upon the surface of the gates. Before they could fully open, they shattered, partially blasted asunder!

Wang Lin inhaled sharply, gazing upon Clear Water. The sheer power of the essence of Slaughter emanating from him surpassed anything Wang Lin had ever witnessed. This force, this aura, was utterly astounding!

With a single stroke, Clear Water had shattered a portion of the Gates of the Void, forcing them inward. A gentle light poured forth, descending directly upon Clear Water’s form. This light held no color, filling the heavens, its energy focusing entirely upon Clear Water, rapidly merging into him. In an instant, an aura akin to the Initial Stage of Void Nirvana enveloped the heavens and the earth.

This aura pulsed with Slaughter, and surrounding Clear Water’s body were countless phantasmal figures. There seemed to be no end to these apparitions, all those slain by Clear Water throughout his lifetime!

The boundless shadows, upon their emergence, trembled as they gazed upon Clear Water, their faces contorted with terror. They seemed to emit piercing cries, though no sound could be heard.

In their silent screams, these phantasmal figures trembled, falling to their knees, prostrating themselves before Clear Water! Yet one among them remained standing, silently watching Clear Water from the crowd, a soft smile gracing her lips.

It was a woman!

Clear Water stared at the woman, tears slowly streaming down his face. He extended his right hand, and her smile deepened. Her eyes were filled with tenderness as she slowly approached him.

Gradually, the woman drew nearer, until finally she stood before Clear Water, nestled in the crook of his right arm, embraced by him. Tears streamed down Clear Water’s face, and he wept.

A powerful Immortal Lord, a master of the essence of Slaughter, who had endured the unimaginable agony of having ten sharp implements ripped from his body without uttering a whimper, shed tears now as he held this woman.

He clung to her as a mortal man might, his tears flowing uncontrollably. He held her tightly, as if fearing that if he loosened his grip, she would vanish, leaving him forever.

The woman bit her lower lip, her smile tinged with a hint of sorrow, though as a specter she could not cry, even her tears were mere illusions. All that could be seen was her weeping, but no trace of tears.

This was the grief of a soul.

Within Clear Water’s embrace, the woman smiled silently, wept silently. Slowly, she raised her right hand, gently placing it upon Clear Water’s face, as if to wipe away his tears. But her touch could not reach him.
A sorrow, deep as a bottomless well, clouded the ancient eyes of Ch’ing Shui, wrenching the heart. He raised a trembling hand, reaching to caress the spectral hair of the woman he held close, but his fingers met only empty air.

He watched, helpless, as the ethereal form of the woman in his arms began to phase through his very being, retreating as if drawn by an unseen current. Like smoke from burning incense, her essence, like her name, Han Yan (Fleeting Mist), seemed destined to fade into nothingness.

“Han Yan!” Ch’ing Shui roared, a sound that shattered the heavens themselves. He forgot the rent in reality he had torn, forgot everything save for the single soul before him.

His wife, Han Yan! For her lost keepsake, he had ravaged realms and spilled rivers of blood. His love for her was the sum of his existence, the source of both his joy and his unending torment.

And now, as the Gate of Emptiness yawned wide and the essence of Slaughter, fully realized, birthed this fading echo of her spirit, she threatened to slip away once more. The vision of his beloved, etched upon his heart for millennia, was about to vanish. A keening wail tore from Ch’ing Shui’s throat as he lunged forward, desperate to grasp the remnants of her soul.

He would forsake his ascendance, abandon all he had gained, if only he could hold onto this fragment. Even if it was but an incomplete reflection, a phantom cast by the opening of the gate…

Yet, she drifted further still, the tears in her eyes indistinct, perhaps nonexistent. But the profound sorrow etched upon her face was a mark that would haunt the ages.

Despite the grief, a gentle smile graced her lips as she gazed upon Ch’ing Shui, a silent farewell.

Wang Lin, witnessing this heart-rending scene, remained in somber silence. He raised his right hand, tearing a rift in the void, summoning forth a dozen ancient Willow Leaves from his storage dimension. He knew not if they could aid Ch’ing Shui, but he had to try.

As the leaves materialized, Wang Lin wove a hundred thousand ancient seals, amplifying their power. With a flick of his sleeve, he sent the shimmering leaves soaring forward, towards the fading figure. Pointing a finger, he commanded them to weave a protective barrier around her.

Gritting his teeth, Wang Lin bit his tongue, offering a mouthful of ichor, the liquid essence of his lineage, the very blood of an immortal!

As the golden blood splashed forth, an aura of celestial power engulfed the Willow Leaves, bathing them in gold. They hurtled past Ch’ing Shui, encircling the spectral woman, weaving a cage of shimmering light.

The woman’s form faltered, suspended in the golden radiance. The Willow Leaves, now coalesced into a celestial seal, plunged towards her, anchoring her essence to the realm.

With a cry, Ch’ing Shui embraced her, tears streaming down his face as he murmured words of love and longing. Han Yan, in turn, held him close, their embrace an echo of eternity.

At long last, Ch’ing Shui raised his head, his left hand summoning a timeworn hairpin. This very trinket, the prize he had wrested from the destroyed realm, he gently placed upon Han Yan’s spectral head.

Gazing upon her, the sorrow in his eyes deepened. After a long silence, he turned to Wang Lin, his gratitude beyond words.

He raised his left hand once more, summoning the black blade that had cleaved the Gate of Emptiness into being. With a flick of his wrist, the souls that groveled around them were drawn into the weapon, their essence consumed. A wave of raw, untamed Slaughter essence pulsed from the blade, shaking the very fabric of reality.

“Wang Lin,” Ch’ing Shui began, his voice resonant with power, “This blade, forged in the opening of the Gate, helped me shatter the void. It holds within it the breath of Emptiness, the sum of my slaughter, and the power of my very soul, born of the Essence of Slaughter. I give it to you. Master it, and the Essence of Slaughter shall be yours.”

With a flick of his wrist, the black blade hurtled towards Wang Lin, hovering before him. Even Wang Lin, seasoned warrior that he was, felt a tremor of fear at the weapon’s raw power.

This blade was nothing less than a complete and mature Essence of Slaughter.

It was, arguably, Ch’ing Shui’s most potent possession, the first Essence weapon of a third-step cultivator. Few who dared to open the Gate of Emptiness could forge such a weapon; those who did were rare indeed.

Neither the Fire Sparrow Ancestor, nor the Sovereign of the South, nor even the Celestial Diviner, nor Zhou Bi, nor Ling Dong, had achieved this feat. Even Hong Shanzi and Nan Yunzi had fallen short.

The blade’s value was immeasurable.