“A most intriguing existence, a fascinating celestial order, and wonders wrought with such peculiar design! But even so, what does it truly matter! I, Wang Lin, have today pierced the veil of the Ancient Immortal Domain, shattered the celestial tribulation, and glimpsed the very source of its genesis. And so, I vow that one day, I shall stride forth from this confined realm, venture to the Immortal Astral Continent, and behold the so-called Grand Sovereigns who dwell there!

What right have they to shepherd beings like cattle? What right have they to claim dominion over all?”

“No wonder the First Vermillion Bird spoke of guiding only a handful from this place to his true home. It is because the rest, save those few, are not truly of the Immortal Astral Continent, but merely mortals born within the confines of this enchanted domain!

No wonder he said that in his homeland, there existed the power to restore Li Muwan, yet he could not accomplish it here. No wonder… no wonder…”

“If Scatterspirit Celestial could lead seven million souls out of this place, then Wang Lin, in time, shall do even better. I shall witness for myself the vaunted strength of those on the Immortal Astral Continent! I shall see if I can stir a storm of blood and consequence when I emerge from this realm and set foot on their lands. Can I force the Grand Sovereigns of the Immortal Astral Continent to kneel before a mortal risen from the dust of this Domain?”

Wang Lin’s laughter echoed, bordering on madness. Nothing that had transpired this day surprised him. He had always suspected the truth, though he resisted its grasp, choosing to deceive himself.

But today, he cast aside the illusions. What did the truth matter, after all? He was still Wang Lin, the defiant one, the one sworn to resurrect Ji Muwan, the one destined to confront the entirety of creation alone.

Truth, even absolute truth, held no power over him. So long as he possessed an indomitable spirit and unwavering conviction, he would continue to walk this path, unyielding.

Amidst the echoes of his manic joy, Wang Lin, armed with his newfound understanding, stepped towards the second sun. Within it surged the Fire Tribulation. He drew close and unleashed a devastating fist.

The ensuing explosion shook the very heavens, instantly shattering the second sun and revealing the Tribulation Flame, carefully sealed by the multicolored figure.

Wang Lin pressed on without pause, swiftly approaching the third sun. Within its core resided a formidable force of suppression, the very weight of Heaven itself, capable of crushing all living things.

Having shattered three suns in quick succession, Wang Lin faltered slightly, his mad laughter echoing. He raised his right hand and, with a sweeping gesture, unleashed the full force of his cultivation, conjuring a colossal hand that crashed into the fourth sun.

Inside the fourth sun lurked four celestial swords, their edges keen and their auras sharp. But Wang Lin simply ignored these blades!

The fifth sun held countless phantom figures. Fusing and shifting, these entities gave birth to all illusions.

Within the sixth sun resided the auras of three artifacts. These were the Sentinel Tower, the Banishing Ring and other such relics. When Wang Lin had broken down the sun, these three auras twined together into a single swirling mass.

From the seventh sun emanated the soul essence of the Ancient Three Clans. Imprisoned within were a multitude of Ancient Clan spirits, the ultimate tool for manipulating the emissaries of celestial order.

From the eighth sun, Wang Lin sensed the presence of the Self-Rejection Tribulation, an essence so fluid and ever-changing that it defied easy classification.

With the shattering of the eighth sun, the entire Ancient Immortal Domain erupted in a deafening cacophony, an endless reverberation that spread across the land, causing the statues to tremble.

But Wang Lin paid none of this any heed. His gaze was fixed on the ninth sun, the celestial energy within it the sort he had never faced before.

Yet within its core, he sensed a haunting familiarity, a blend of his essence and that of Li Muwan, of his parents, and of countless others he had known throughout his life.

Standing before the ninth sun, Wang Lin grew calm. He closed his eyes in quiet contemplation, lost to the passage of time, until, at last, he opened them, his eyes shining with newfound knowledge.

“This ninth sun, the ninth celestial tribulation, is the very essence of all tribulations. Within it lies the fate of every being that has ever lived, whether within or beyond this realm, whether living or dead. This ninth celestial tribulation is a grand catalog, holding the record of every soul born within this realm…”

He leveled a gaze filled with cold determination at the ninth sun. He felt the urge to destroy it, knowing he possessed the power to do so. But he understood that destroying this celestial tribulation would throw all of creation into chaos, for this realm was not born of nature, but crafted by the multicolored figure. Wang Lin raised his hand, placing it gently on the ninth sun. His divine sense surged forth, leaving his body and becoming an invisible storm that engulfed the sun.

Bathed in its light, Wang Lin’s divine sense infiltrated the very depths of the ninth sun. Its interior was a chaos, a vortex of endless energies. As Wang Lin’s divine sense searched this space, he witnessed countless things.

He saw the lives of countless mortals, the lifetimes of countless cultivators, and the faces of countless strangers dressed in garb and clothing that he had never seen before. Those people had died long ago.

This ninth sun held the weight of countless millennia, from the very dawn of creation until this day. It was akin to the wheel of rebirth, a force that shaped destiny, transforming injustice and fortune into mere words.

This ninth sun, in essence, contained what men called fate!

As Wang Lin’s divine sense spread further, he found his fate, his own unique essence. This essence was more vivid than anything else he had ever seen.

Wang Lin looked at his fate, and for a long time, said nothing. At long last, he made a decision, and his divine sense spread forward, covering his fate before consuming it. He fused his fate with his own divine sense.
The instant he merged with the essence of Fate, Wang Lin’s divine sense surged with a violent, transformative power. Upon the ninth sun, his closed eyes fluttered, and his physical form shuddered with an intense tremor.

In that tremor, a sense of completion washed over him. It was as if, henceforth, Wang Lin himself would be the master of his own destiny. No power in heaven or earth could ever again alter the path laid out for him.

Not even the Heavenly Tribulation! Not even the man of seven hues!

At that very moment, Wang Lin felt truly whole. He had reclaimed what was rightfully his from the cosmos – his Fate. He had transcended. Since time immemorial, mortals had sought many things, but almost all yearned, above all else, to control their own destinies. Yet, scarcely any ever succeeded.

Fate was fickle, and mortal strength limited. Humans could only writhe and struggle beneath its weight, their cries of defiance lost to the wind. Like ants in the hand of a giant, they were manipulated, never escaping its grasp.

Even in death, they remained in its power, their corpses flung where the hand desired, eternally at rest. But even that rest was ordained.

In the mortal realm, whispered legends spoke of the King of the Underworld, who claimed souls at the third watch, leaving none alive until dawn. These tales, born from the fear of oblivion, painted vivid images of hellish rivers and infernal courts.

All of this only served to illustrate the dread and struggle against the inexorable force of Fate, a battle from which there was no escape.

Those who believed they had broken free were merely deluding themselves. Only Wang Lin, on this day, at this moment, had wrested Fate from its possessor, becoming its master!

Having reclaimed his own destiny, Wang Lin did not withdraw his divine sense. He continued his search within the ninth sun, seeking those friends, family, and lovers known to him. He would reclaim their Fates as well!

Even for those lost to the embrace of death, Wang Lin would not permit them to be bound by Fate’s unyielding laws.

In his relentless search, he found his father, his mother. A wave of sorrow washed over him as he discovered their intertwined Fates, even in death, forever linked within the myriad strands of destiny.

The love between his parents was simple, warm, an unbreakable bond that persisted even beyond the veil, each forever clinging to the other.

Gently, his divine sense enfolded the fading embers of his parents’ deceased Fates. Wang Lin continued his search, finding Thirteen, Big Head, Zhou Yi, Qing Shuang, and Qing Shuang once more…

He located Nan Yunzi, Hong Shanzi, Wang Zhuo, the Old Holy Emperor who had shown him kindness, and Tong Tian…

He found many more, including his son, Wang Ping, and Zhou Ru. He retrieved their Fates, freeing them from the whims of the heavens, granting them the same transcendence he had achieved.

He also discovered Hong Die, Mu Bingmei, and Xi Zifeng, each a forgotten beauty he had encountered on his life’s journey.

And Li Qianmei.

Yet, amidst this sweeping search, Wang Lin could not find Qing Shui, nor Si Tu Nan. He even sought the lost Tian Yunzi, but their Fates had vanished as if they had never existed.

Missing as well, was one who was of the utmost importance to Wang Lin, a woman he loved, someone as vital to him as his own parents –

Li Muwan.

No matter how he scoured the realms, he could not locate Li Muwan’s essence of Fate. It was as if it had vanished into thin air. Unlike the absolute absence of Qing Shui and Si Tu Nan, however, there was a trace that she had existed here in the Ninth Sun.

But someone, sometime before him, had taken it…