The Crimson Wyrm, recoiling, emitted a pained whimper, channeling the last of its might. A roiling aura of flame erupted around it, the fiery shroud granting a momentary burst of impossible speed as it fled in terror.

The dragon was utterly cowed by Wang Lin’s effortless conjuring of its own element, the casual dominion over flame that he displayed. In that instant, it had sensed the raw, untamed essence of the Fire Origin radiating from Wang Lin himself.

The Wyrm, too, possessed a spark of this very origin, but it was a mere ember compared to Wang Lin’s inferno. Faced with such an insurmountable disparity, the dragon’s courage evaporated.

As the Wyrm retreated with frantic speed, Wang Lin, his expression serene, glanced at the fleeing creature. With a dismissive flick of his wrist, he extinguished the small flame he had held, releasing a wave of scorching heat that rolled outward, distorting the very fabric of space. He did not pursue, but instead, with deliberate grace, formed a mystic seal with his right hand.

This sign, gifted by the Second Vermillion Bird, was the key to controlling the Crimson Wyrm!

The moment the seal bloomed into existence, the retreating dragon shrieked in agony. Upon its brow, a mark mirroring Wang Lin’s seal materialized, branding itself deep into bone and soul.

“Curse the Vermillion Birds, they are all crafters of misery!” the dragon wailed. “It burns! They promised me freedom, yet left this cursed mark upon me!” Its fiery aura shattered, revealing its true form, a colossal serpent of fire stretching ten thousand fathoms across the heavens.

Even from afar, the sheer size of the Wyrm commanded a palpable sense of power, but against Wang Lin, this presence was meaningless. Writhing in torment, tears of fire streamed from the dragon’s eyes.

“The pain… I surrender!” it cried. “I yield! Do with me as you will, just cease this torment!”

Wang Lin, with a flick of his wrist, dissolved the seal, the phantom pain vanishing from the dragon’s brow. He strode forward, stepping effortlessly onto the massive head of the Crimson Wyrm. The dragon, sensing the familiar agony from before, trembled in fear, its watery eyes pleading for mercy.

It cast a sorrowful gaze toward the distant spire of the Immortal Dragon Sect, its watery eyes growing wetter with despair.

“Farewell, my Immortal Dragon Sect…” it lamented. “Alas, I should never have strayed from my path… If only I had known…”

Wang Lin sat cross-legged upon the dragon’s head, the creature’s fiery heat swirling around him, distorting the horizon. He gazed into the distance.

The remnants of the Ancient Starry Sky, those who had coalesced their divine senses to observe the proceedings, witnessed this subjugation without surprise. The Crimson Wyrm, though powerful, akin to an early-stage Void Nirvana cultivator, was as brittle as glass before their ancient might.

Before his knowledge of the Cave Worlds, Wang Lin might have sought to tame such a beast, but never with such swift and decisive action. This dragon was unlike any other he had encountered. It spoke in tongues, possessed a cunning mind, and even dared to claim the title of Immortal Dragon, enslaving cultivators in its grand design.

Most notably, a faint trace of Immortal blood flowed within its veins, a power so subtle it would have escaped most, but Wang Lin’s brow, infused with the Immortal’s undying essence, sensed the truth.

He stood upon the massive dragon, his eyes gleaming, knowing that three hours remained before the end of the three-year pact. Three hours were sufficient to extract knowledge from this creature.

“The Immortal Gang Continent… it is your birthplace, is it not?” Wang Lin projected the question into the dragon’s mind.

The dragon, visibly startled, blinked its massive eyes and shook its head frantically.

Wang Lin’s gaze hardened. He raised his right hand, the energy of a soul-rending technique gathering upon it. He stared at the Wyrm, and projected another mental question, “Given your intellect, you understand the power of my art. I ask again, did you originate from the Immortal Gang Continent?”

The dragon’s eyes widened in terror, but then it cast a nervous glance towards the thousand or so Immortal Dragon Sect cultivators, and steeled its resolve, shaking its head once more.

Wang Lin frowned. He could not risk a full Soul Search here, in the Ancient Starry Sky, with the watchful eyes of ancient beings upon him. Such an act might offer them a window to strike, disrupting his plans.

His eyes turned to ice. He dispelled the Soul Search and prepared to banish the dragon to his storage rift, to be interrogated after the affairs of the Ancient Immortal Domain were settled.

But as the power of his Soul Search retreated, a desperate plea echoed in his mind.

“Please… spare my pride…” it begged. “My disciples are watching! Grant me some respect, play along, and I swear I will tell you everything you wish to know. Please…”

Wang Lin paused, a strange expression crossing his face. He stared at the dragon beneath him, and after a long silence, nodded slowly.

The Crimson Wyrm, seeing Wang Lin’s agreement, visibly rejoiced. It straightened, shaking its body with theatrical grandeur, rising to float in the starlit sky.

Its eyes flashed with renewed authority, and with a flourish of its claw, it roared, “You dare to seek to join my Immortal Dragon Sect?” Very well, this Immortal Dragon shall deign to overlook your earlier offense, and allow you to join, eh…” The dragon glanced at Wang Lin, and seeing a slight frown upon his face, paled and added hastily, “Eh… a being of your power gracing my Immortal Dragon Sect is a boon, yes, yes, you shall be Vice Sect Master…”
The proclamation stilled the hearts of the thousand-odd cultivators who, until moments before, had been paralyzed by the spectacle. Astonishment gave way to dread in their wide eyes.

Before they could unravel the sudden shift, the Vermillion Dragon, with a serpentine flick of its massive head, fixed its gaze upon the assembled throng and unleashed a deafening roar.

“Begone! I shall personally oversee the training of your Vice Sect Master. When my task is complete, I shall return. See to the well-being of our home in my absence!”

Though their minds swam with unanswered questions, the cultivators dared not voice them. Instead, they donned the mask of awe that pleased the Dragon’s vanity. With clasped fists and reverent bows, they retreated, transforming into streaks of light as they vanished into the heavens.

Only when the last of the disciples had disappeared over the horizon did the Dragon’s majestic facade crumble. A palpable awkwardness replaced its earlier grandeur. As it began to speak, Wang Lin moved with sudden purpose. He stepped onto the dragon’s head and with a surge of power, returned to the astral plane where he had been meditating.

“Master,” the Dragon pleaded telepathically, its voice laced with supplication. “I, Xiaolong, am indeed from the Immortal Astral Continent. Ask what you will, and I swear I shall conceal nothing from you.”

Wang Lin settled himself upon the great beast’s back, his posture mirroring his earlier meditation. “Tell me,” he commanded, “how did you cross from the Immortal Astral Continent into this realm?”

“I came with my former master, and… another wretch,” the Dragon grumbled, resentment flaring in its thoughts. “We arrived together. That wretched creature, knowing that I held more favor in my master’s eyes, grew envious. It whispered lies of forgotten treasures within the Seven Paths Sect, luring my master to this place…”

“Loyal to my master as I am, I could not bear to leave him to face such peril alone. Thus, I accompanied him…” The Dragon’s voice trailed off, its gaze flickering nervously into the distance, as if haunted by unseen terrors.

The Dragon’s words caused Wang Lin’s eyes to narrow, and he peered at the Dragon, until the Dragon shivered under his gaze, and spoke more hastily, its tone laced with fear.

“I speak the truth… Well, mostly. I may have omitted certain details. It was not entirely out of loyalty that I came, but rather I was brought here by my master” the Dragon squeaked.

“What is your name?” Wang Lin asked, his heart pounding in his chest as a terrible certainty gripped him.

“Master, you may call me Xiaohong,” the Dragon replied, swishing its magnificent head. “It is my given name.”

*Xiaohong!* The word exploded in Wang Lin’s mind. His eyes burned into the Dragon, the madman’s words echoing in his memory.

*”Xiaohong, Xiaohong, where are you?”*

*”All that is mine is with Xiaohong. Seek it from him.”*

*”Xiaohong, hasten to my brother! Tell him I have been wronged!”*

Under Wang Lin’s intense scrutiny, the Dragon felt not only unease, but a rising panic. It knew not what it had said to ignite such fury, and in its terror, was about to speak when Wang Lin’s words cut through the air like a blade.

“Lian Dao Fei… what relation is he to you?”

The mention of the name struck the Dragon dumb.

“Ah? Do you know my master? Lian Dao Fei was indeed my previous master… alas, he is no more…”

“It is as I feared,” Wang Lin murmured, his mind reeling. Without another word, he swept his sleeve and banished the Vermillion Dragon into his storage dimension. He could not afford to linger on these revelations.

The sands of time were running out. He needed to regain his composure, to marshal all his strength for the coming trial. He needed serenity, and the Dragon’s words threatened to shatter it. With the Dragon safely contained, Wang Lin resumed his meditation. His eyes closed, and he battled to calm the tempest raging within his soul.

Time slipped away. Watched by the prying consciousnesses of the ancient stars, the final three hours ebbed into oblivion.

As the last moment vanished, Wang Lin’s eyes snapped open.