Master Duntian of the Soul炼 Sect, days prior, while Wang Lin stood idly at his window, had felt a subtle tremor in the ether as the heavens themselves cracked with thunder and the tempest raged. He expended vast quantities of his own life force, his very essence, in nine successive attempts to divine the meaning of that fleeting moment.

He sought the future of the Soul炼 Sect, a path to celestial ascension for his brethren!

Nine divinations, nine arduous calculations, yet each yielded a conclusion so absurd it defied belief. Initially, he refused to accept it, but with each iteration, the same impossible truth emerged, forcing him to confront its reality.

All his calculations pointed towards the Kingdom of Zhao, specifically a humble county town within its borders, and more astonishingly, to a scholar within that town!

Thus, he arrived, burdened with expectation and this preposterous revelation. For days, he scoured the town, seeking amongst its scholars the answer he craved, but met only with disappointment.

These scholars were mere mortals, how could they possibly fathom the depths of his question? With his cultivation, the middle-aged man was a force to be reckoned with, not just in Zhao, but across the entire Vermillion Bird Star. An Infant Soul cultivator, a mere step away from celestial apotheosis!

The middle-aged man swept back his sleeve, and a black wind howled, an army of tormented souls writhing within. They enveloped Wang Lin and the sleeping Da Fu, cleaving the world in two with their spectral presence, blurring the very fabric of reality.

Da Fu remained oblivious, his snores echoing in the unnatural silence, a jarring counterpoint to the gathering dread. Wang Lin turned, his gaze fixed upon the man emerging from the inky abyss.

He was an immortal, Wang Lin knew, yet felt no fear, no trepidation. Strangely, despite the man’s evident power, Wang Lin perceived him as insignificant.

He couldn’t explain it, but since the thunderous night, since the voice that echoed within his mind, he had undergone a subtle but profound transformation.

This change was in his very thoughts, an ineffable understanding, particularly after penning his examination essay, a treatise on the very cause and effect of the heavens!

Calmly regarding the approaching middle-aged man, Wang Lin’s expression remained serene, and he spoke softly.

“Speak your piece.”

The middle-aged man paused, scrutinizing Wang Lin. He appeared utterly ordinary, a true mortal, untouched by cultivation.

Yet, his serene demeanor, his unperturbed countenance, spoke of something extraordinary. All other scholars he had encountered had crumbled upon witnessing his power, overwhelmed by fear and awe. He had been forced to employ calming arts before they could even stammer a response.

Wang Lin was the first to exhibit such composure.

Indeed, ‘composure’ seemed an inadequate description. The middle-aged man sensed that Wang Lin was utterly indifferent to his presence, treating him not as an immortal, but as a fellow mortal. He, whose very aura could send earthly emperors cowering in fear, prostrating themselves as before a god. A pressure so immense, it could crush even seasoned cultivators into terrified submission.

The middle-aged man had witnessed such disregard only twice before, and each time it was in the presence of the Vermillion Bird Star’s greatest Confucians, figures of immense learning who had risen in the last few centuries.

These scholars, attuned to the rhythms of the cosmos, possessed a righteous spirit that defied the very forces of darkness. While a mere Qi Condensation cultivator could easily slay them, those of higher cultivation could sense a faint echo of a cultivator’s aura within them.

Such individuals, if they chose the path of cultivation, would be destined for greatness.

Wang Lin was the third to evoke this feeling within him. After a moment of silence, the middle-aged man clasped his hands and bowed deeply before Wang Lin.

“I am Nian Tian, Sect Master of the Soul炼 Sect. ‘Nian,’ a thread of thought encompassing all creation, a fitting name.” Wang Lin smiled faintly, returning the bow. The aura of a great Confucian scholar emanating from him grew stronger, causing the swirling black winds and tormented souls to recoil, as though unable to approach. Even their mournful wails diminished, until they vanished entirely.

This spectacle deepened the middle-aged man’s astonishment. He inhaled sharply, his eyes gleaming with hope. He sensed that the answer he sought might lie with this man, that his nine divinations had, in fact, pointed towards him!

“I seek to know, does the Soul炼 Sect have a path to celestial ascension? I implore you, scholar, to解 my century-long bewilderment!” Nian Tian pleaded earnestly, bowing once more.

To seek guidance on the fate of his sect from a mere mortal was an act of utter absurdity, even Nian Tian knew this. But the nine divinations compelled him to believe. Wang Lin’s extraordinary demeanor offered a glimmer of hope as he waited for an answer.

Upon hearing the question, Wang Lin paused, falling into contemplation.

“I cannot answer,” he finally said, shaking his head. He had no knowledge of the Soul炼 Sect, only a vague understanding that it was some kind of immortal sect.

The middle-aged man remained silent, his face etched with bitterness. He shook his head and sighed, gazing at the sky. He felt foolish for having sought guidance on matters of sect legacy from a mortal.

“I have troubled you. You are a scholar of this age, and I will not erase your memories.” The middle-aged man sighed, turning away with a sense of defeat and confusion.

Wang Lin watched his retreating figure. He sensed a crushing weight upon the man’s shoulders, a weight that aged him beyond his years.

“Take me to see this Soul炼 Sect,” Wang Lin spoke, recalling his recurring dreams and the voice that had echoed within his mind.

The middle-aged man halted, turning to regard Wang Lin, and nodded solemnly. With a wave of his hand, a black wind rose from all directions, swirling around Wang Lin, lifting him into the sky, and together they vanished.
Within the humble county town, no mortal eye perceived the sorcery woven about the examination grounds. Even the black wind that briefly stirred was unseen by ordinary folk. Beneath the ancient tree outside the hallowed halls, Da Fu, oblivious, snored on, turning in his slumber, muttering secrets to the dust.

Far beyond, in the star-realm of Vermillion Bird, lay the dominion of the Soul Refining Sect. High above, amidst the swirling cosmos, stood Wang Lin, his face pale as moonlight, yet his gaze held a serene resolve. A swirling vortex of black wind clung to him, held aloft by the ethereal grip of Nian Tian, who steadied him against the void.

“Behold,” Nian Tian declared, his hand gesturing towards the sprawling darkness below. “This is the gate of my Soul Refining Sect.” At his words, a thunderous echo reverberated, and the oppressive black mists that shrouded the Sect parted, revealing its inner workings to Wang Lin’s gaze.

A strange familiarity tugged at Wang Lin’s heart as he beheld the Soul Refining Sect. It was as if he had seen it in a dream, yet when he sought to grasp the memory, it vanished like mist in the dawn.

“I… I wish to walk among them,” Wang Lin murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

Without hesitation, Nian Tian descended, shielding Wang Lin from the harsh winds of the heavens. They landed within the Sect’s borders. Upon the myriad peaks, monks and practitioners resided. Sensing the opening of the mountain gate, they emerged from their retreats, their eyes widening as they beheld Wang Lin and Nian Tian.

“Greetings, Sect Leader!” their voices echoed, yet a strange unease lingered in their tones. They recognized Wang Lin as a mere mortal, and could not fathom why their leader would bring such a being to this sacred place.

Confusion clouded Wang Lin’s eyes as he walked through the Soul Refining Sect. Every stone, every path, sparked a sense of familiarity. He seemed to know the hidden dangers, as if he had trod these grounds before, in ages past. The sensation grew stronger with each step.

At the foot of a particular peak, crowned with numerous cave dwellings, Wang Lin stopped. The sense of recognition here was overwhelming, as if he had once made this very place his home.

Nian Tian remained by his side, observing Wang Lin with a curious intensity. Half a day passed as Wang Lin wandered, eventually arriving at the Soul Refining Sect’s main peak.

He gazed upon the towering spire, wreathed in rings of black mist that ascended into the heavens. Though the familiarity remained, something felt… incomplete. With a sigh, he shook his head, preparing to speak.

Suddenly, a booming sound erupted from the main peak. A figure cloaked in darkness emerged from the swirling mists at its summit, striding towards Wang Lin and Nian Tian.

“Brother, who is this?” a weathered voice inquired. The dark figure approached, a middle-aged man whose gaze swept over Wang Lin.

“Dun Tian,” Nian Tian replied, a hint of satisfaction in his voice, “this is a scholar I have brought here. You are currently in the midst of merging with the Banner Spirit. Do not be distracted. Return to your seclusion.”

Dun Tian chuckled. To him, Wang Lin was nothing more than a mortal. He gave him a fleeting glance, then turned and vanished into the ether.

But in that instant, as Dun Tian’s image registered in Wang Lin’s mind, his world tilted. A memory, fragmented and fleeting, seemed to resurface. He trembled, tears streaming down his face as he watched Dun Tian depart.

Just then, a white bird soared across the sky above the Soul Refining Sect, its mournful cry echoing through the mountains.

“Soul Refining Sect,” Wang Lin whispered, “Hundreds of years hence, on the very day of your master’s passing, a man will come here. He… he is the key to your sect’s path to ascension!”

Nian Tian stared at Wang Lin, his expression a mix of astonishment and contemplation. He did not fully believe the words, but he vowed to remember them. Throughout his long life, he never spoke of this encounter to Dun Tian. But on a day, centuries later, as he felt his own life nearing its end, the words of the unforgettable scholar echoed in his mind.