The Vermillion Redwood Saint’s eyes blazed with newfound vigor. He inhaled deeply, a series of thundering booms echoing from within his very core. A crimson mist erupted from his pores, coalescing into a suit of blood-soaked armor that clung to his form.

He regarded Wang Lin, then offered a respectful bow, his gaze hardening. “I thank you, Esteemed Sealer.” Raising his head, he turned, the Vermillion Redwood Saint’s eyes locking onto the High Prelate of the Celestial Tribunal, now gleaming with a cunning light.

“Qin Jiuyan, though you burn your cultivation, you shall not escape me this day,” he declared, his voice resonating with ancient power. “You shall not find death. Instead, I shall refine you into a blood-avatar, a mighty force to aid our realm!” With a surge of will, the Vermillion Redwood Saint became a streak of scarlet, hurtling towards his prey.

The black-robed elder, his face ashen, retreated in haste. Though a being of immense power, he was but a cultivator, and against four opponents, he stood no chance. Just as the crimson figure neared, Dragonpoison Saint calmly raised his right hand. The Scroll of Mountains and Rivers roared to life, its energies swirling, encompassing the battlefield.

Serene Ice, his expression a mask of cold resolve, raised his own hand and pointed towards the black-robed elder. Immediately, the five spectral fissures that plagued the elder’s face deepened, tearing further into his being. The Art of Shifting Moon’s Shadow, like marrow-deep poison, unleashed its terrible power with each passing moment.

Wang Lin, his countenance unchanging, lifted his right hand as his allies moved. A golden light ignited in his eyes, coalescing into a focused beam at his fingertips. He aimed it at the black-robed elder.

“Rest,” he whispered.

This was a battle without suspense. The Seven-Colored Realm had crumbled, and Qin Jiuyan, High Prelate of the Celestial Tribunal, was inevitably defeated, captured and bound by the Vermillion Redwood Saint.

Dragonveil Saint’s burning soul, with the aid of the Vermillion Redwood Saint, began to flicker, showing signs of recovery. Wounded but alive, he departed with his disciple, Chongxuan, silently vowing to await the next grand conflict between the realms.

The Vermillion Redwood Saint invited Wang Lin to the Cloudsea Battle Altar, there to be recognized in the name of the Esteemed Sealer, to rally the war-torn souls of the realm to a final, desperate counterattack.

Wang Lin refused. He now possessed three Dao Fruits, and his priority was clear: to nurture his three Great Origins to full power before the erupting force of their rejection tore him asunder, that he might shatter the gates of ascension and attain true Immortality!

Serene Ice departed, his azure robes fluttering in the void, carrying his sorrow, his solitude, and his silent quest to find his lost daughter – a quest that might succeed, or might stretch for an eternity.

But whatever his path, should Wang Lin utter a single word, he would return, even from the farthest reaches of the cosmos. Between them, there was no need for lengthy pronouncements. The bonds forged in shared trials were etched too deeply to ever forget.

Within this starfield, only two souls now truly mattered to Serene Ice, and one of them was his junior brother, Wang Lin.

The deliverance of the Vermillion Redwood Saint brought a much-needed surge of hope to the realm’s cultivators. The reclamation of Summoned River only served to deepen that belief.

The demise of Celestial Augur, the allegiance of Dragonveil Saint, the capture of the High Prelate – all these events rekindled the embers of confidence among the survivors.

The inner realm, now devoid of the fractured Seven-Colored Realm, stood strong and united. Decades of unending war had instilled a fierce, unwavering resolve. The cultivators knew that failure meant oblivion.

And when the Vermillion Redwood Saint proclaimed the return of the Esteemed Sealer, the warriors of the realm lifted their heads. The fires of war within their eyes burned brighter than ever before.

In the Kunxu Starfield, at the juncture where it met Cloudsea, Summoned River, and Luo Tian, stood a single cultivation star. Through the throes of war, it had gradually grown into a sprawling, bustling trading hub.

Such stars, especially those situated at the intersection of the four starfields, had sprung up in abundance. Here, cultivators from the four domains mingled and bartered for vital resources.

The starfields were slowly coalescing into a single entity.

Within this bustling market on the star known as Kunxu One-Spirit, cultivators from every corner of the cosmos jostled and traded, their voices rising in a chaotic, exuberant clamor.

Among them, the female cultivators of Summoned River were particularly sought after. Though Summoned River had fallen and countless lives had been lost, many of its women had broken through the enemy lines during the counterattack years ago.

Now, with Summoned River recently reclaimed, the return of these scattered women breathed new life into their war-ravaged homeland.

These women, with their captivating beauty and gentle, feminine aura, drew the attention of the unattached men from the other three starfields, who spared no effort in seeking a lifelong companion, or perhaps merely a fleeting dalliance.

The presence of these women made the marketplace even more lively.

Scattered throughout the market were inns, offering weary cultivators sanctuary to meditate and recover. Each room was furnished with ample spirit stones and a modest supply of immortal jade.

The more opulent establishments even offered origin jade for the rejuvenation of the ancient, powerful cultivators who frequented them.

In the eastern district of the market, which now encompassed the entire planet, stood a mid-sized inn. The tables in its spacious hall were filled with patrons.

Though cultivators could survive without sustenance, they were still fond of immortal fruits, fine wines, and even simple mortal dishes, as these could stir memories of simpler times, before the arduous path of cultivation had consumed their lives. Consequently, the inn was always packed.

Moreover, the ongoing inter-realm war offered opportunities to meet fellow travelers and share insights into cultivation techniques. Even a brief encounter could lead to an alliance on the battlefield.

At one of the tables in the northern section of the inn, a group of cultivators were gathered, one of whom was a middle-aged scholar. He was recounting a tale to his companions, his voice filled with mirth.

“I told you, I was once acquainted with the Esteemed Sealer, but you refuse to believe me!”

Across from him sat two women, both blessed with delicate features. One, clad in a pink Daoist robe, with flowing hair, was noticeably younger. Intrigued, she asked in a soft voice, “Brother Zhou, where did you meet the Esteemed Sealer?”

Beside her, dressed in purple robes, sat a woman of more mature years, her face bearing the marks of time. She sat quietly, never uttering a word.
“Hold, Fair Xu!” chuckled the elder, nestled beside the middle-aged scholar. “Pay no heed to Zhow’s honeyed words. Every time he espies one of you fair daughters of Zhaohe, the same platitudes spill forth. By the heavens, this old coot’s ears have nigh turned to stone from the repetition!”

The scholar, unfazed, smiled gently. “It was on Suzaku, when the ‘Sealed Paragon’ was yet but a fledgling,” he mused, ignoring the elder’s jab. “His cultivation then was but a nascent Core Formation. Never did I imagine he would rise to such heights!”

Intrigued, the lady Xu turned to a maiden in violet silks beside her, a playful glint in her eye. “Sister Zhou, did you not once sojourn on Suzaku? Did your path ever cross that of the Sealed Paragon?”

A hush fell over the tavern, swallowing even the clatter of mugs. All eyes, including the scholar’s, turned to the woman in violet. Shock mingled with envy and a thread of reverence flickered in their gazes.

Even those at neighboring tables, catching wind of the question, fell silent, their attention drawn to the violet-clad maiden, their faces etched with respect.

The scholar, Zhow Dongde, rose swiftly, bowing deeply towards her. “A thousand pardons, Daughter of Suzaku! My previous words were but jest. I trust you will not hold them against me.”

Not only he, but the elder, and a host of others, from the realms of Luo Tian and Kunxu alike, rose and offered similar salutations. Even a trio of cultivators from the Cloud Sea came forward, bowing low.

Such events, though rare in the Four Great Starfields, were etched in the annals of history. The name of the Sealed Paragon was not mere personal glory, but forged in the fires of epoch-defining events, a beacon of hope for the entire realm. To the cultivators of the Inner Seas, the Sealed Paragon was the very soul of their world.

To be a native of the Sealed Paragon’s origin, Kunxu, granted a subtle respect from cultivators of the other three Starfields. The legend of the Sealed Paragon of Kunxu Suzaku was whispered across the cosmos, forever enshrining Suzaku in the minds of all.

Thus, cultivators of Suzaku were held in high esteem. Yet Suzaku, a humble speck in the vast tapestry of the universe, produced few who ventured forth. Therefore, encountering one was a rare and cherished occasion.

And so, to discover a traveler from Suzaku was to bestow upon them a reverence that ran deep.

As the ancient adage proclaimed, “When one ascends to enlightenment, even his chickens and dogs rise with him.” So too, Suzaku, by the grace of Wang Lin, had ascended in the eyes of the Inner Sea’s cultivators. It was no mere coincidence.

The violet-clad maiden, unused to such attention, blushed faintly. With a delicate hand, she swept a stray strand of hair behind her ear, returning the bows with a soft murmur, answering her sister’s query.

“I…I believe I have met him…” A distant look entered her eyes, drawing every ear closer.

“Though I cannot be certain if the man I knew is the same as the one they speak of,” she sighed gently.

“Oh, Sister Zhou, tell us more!” the maiden in pink urged, nudging her companion playfully.

“He was then known as Ma Liang…a newly initiated foundation builder, cold and aloof…He journeyed with us back to the Fire Fen Country from the Outer Domain battlefield. If he is truly the Sealed Paragon, then it was there, amidst the flames, that he met Li Muwan…a dear friend of mine…” She spoke with a mixture of uncertainty and wistful longing.

The surrounding cultivators hung on her every word, for such tales from a true Suzaku native were a rare and precious gift.

Only a lone figure, a black-clad youth seated at a distant table, remained aloof, nursing a cup of wine. His face was a mask of cold indifference, radiating an aura of isolation.

“Master…where are you?” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the tavern door. His eyes, filled with yearning, widened with disbelief and a surge of emotion as a man in white robes pushed aside the curtain and stepped inside.