The nature of Rules remained elusive, a concept few could grasp, even its distinction from the very Fabric of Existence, a truth sought by countless souls across eons, yet never found.

Wang Lin, too, felt the sting of this mystery. Moments of clarity would dawn, only to be swallowed by a tide of doubt and revised conjecture.

Rules, the Fabric, the very Weave of the cosmos – such was Wang Lin’s current understanding.

But what *was* the Cosmos? The heavens of this Cave Dwelling Realm were said to be guided by the Celestial Mandate. Yet, what was *that*? An entity, a force, a being? By what authority did it decree Rules and Fabric, and how were these potent forces brought into existence?

Wang Lin remained in the dark. Even with the Essence of Battle forged into a nascent Rule, understanding eluded him. He only knew that both Rules and the Fabric of Existence were ethereal. Yet, if one were to grant them form, they would appear as countless threads, entwined around all things, living and unliving, within the cosmos.

Like the shimmering strands that bound a foe in a Stasis spell, these threads were Wang Lin’s interpretation of Rules and Fabric. Each strand was unique, yet interwoven, forming myriad Rules. The underlying intent, the purpose woven into these Rules, was the Fabric itself.

This, he surmised, was the Cosmos, was the Celestial Mandate!

禁制 (Forbidden Runes), as Wang Lin understood, were born in the dawn of creation. The first beings, in their fervent worship, then doubt, and finally, questioning of the heavens, began to mimic Rules, to imitate the Fabric. From this devotion, twisted or pure, sprang forth a unique art.

This art was the Weave, the Forbidden Rune.

In his recent days of contemplation, Wang Lin sought not to differentiate between the Runes, but rather to trace them back to their very source.

He reasoned: if these invisible strands were indeed Rules and the Fabric, then one who wished to truly master the Essence of Forbidden Runes must forge their own threads.

These threads, drawn from one’s own essence, utterly belonging to oneself, were the key to success.

Thus, he swung his blade towards the ghastly canvas sail, tearing it asunder. As the unleashed tempest of Forbidden Runes washed over him, an idea sparked: the crimson veins within his own eyes!

With the blood within his eyes, he would forge threads of Rules and the Fabric of Existence, weaving them into all Runes. Within the depths of his own gaze, he would birth a microcosm, a semblance of the heavens themselves. His eyes would become the Essence of Forbidden Runes, his own Rules, his thoughts the very Intent, the Fabric itself!

Such a path was unheard of, a daring gamble. Wang Lin was the first. Bold of heart and keen of mind, he held fast to his chosen course.

At that moment, the phantom right eye before him revealed its intricate, blood-shot iris. With a low incantation, Wang Lin unleashed the crimson tendrils, expanding them until they enveloped the collapsing Forbidden Runes.

Simultaneously, he pressed his right hand upon his left eye, and it too materialized before him, a massive, spectral orb.

These twin eyes, pulsing with crimson, absorbed the surrounding Runes into their veins. After half an incense stick’s worth of time, no trace of the Forbidden Runes remained, save for the two gigantic, blood-laced eyes floating in the void.

With a thought, the spectral eyes winked out, vanishing into Wang Lin’s own. At once, he closed his eyes.

His Three Bodies, in a blur, converged, reforming his true form. He took a step forward, merging with his meditative self, becoming whole once more.

He released his Spiritual Sense, letting it expand outwards, then slowly drawing it back, finally returning it to his being.

The six Essence-forged blades orbited him, their movements slow and measured, the palpable aura of Essence blurring his form.

All within this starfield stilled, as if nothing had occurred. Only Wang Lin remained, seated in meditation, unmoving.

Then, slowly, an immense power emanated from him. It was the strength of a Hollow Spirit Intermediate, and as it poured forth, it seemed to surge, on the verge of explosive growth.

The power intensified, and as it radiated outwards, the six Essence-forged blades surrounding him hummed, as if in joyous song, a tribute to the nascent Seventh Essence!

Wang Lin’s eyes snapped open, revealing a gaze that threatened madness. Though colorless, to any witness, they would appear blood-red.

At the heart of that gaze, within his pupils, a web of crimson veins pulsed, mirroring the Rules and the Fabric of the cosmos. Each vein throbbed with Forbidden Runes. Wang Lin, serene, swept his gaze across the starfield. He saw countless, faint threads – the Rules themselves.

He raised his right hand, and with a delicate flick, as simple as it was profound, he plucked at a thread invisible to all but himself.

The instant he touched it, a sheet of ice materialized in the distance, a sudden and absolute freeze that encased the surrounding space.

As Wang Lin released the unseen thread, the frozen prison shattered, sending shards of ice hurtling in all directions. A massive fragment sped towards him, dissolving into nothingness a mere ten feet away.

Undisturbed, Wang Lin plucked at another thread. At the edge of his vision, the void itself tore asunder, revealing a monstrous black hole that devoured all within its reach.
After what felt like an age, Wang Lin closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his right hand formed a mystic seal, the tip of his finger aimed between his brows, three inches away. Slowly, a crimson light erupted from his eyes, piercing the heavens. Within this crimson aura, a network of blood-red threads pulsed, their patterns shifting within Wang Lin’s pupils. What had been a scattered chaos now began to coalesce, converging with agonizing slowness until, in the depths of his eyes, a single line was forged!

One eye, one line!

This single streak of crimson, born from the convergence of countless threads, did not stand erect like the pupil of a serpent. Instead, it stretched horizontally across Wang Lin’s eyes, bathing his fingertip in its lurid glow. Gradually, the light upon his fingertip intensified, the crimson hue deepening into an ominous, ethereal radiance woven with the power of forbidden seals.

After a long while, Wang Lin lowered his right hand, extending his finger forward. As he did, the spectral light erupted, taking shape before him as a longsword formed slowly, its essence ethereal and woven with countless seals that seemed to exist just beyond the grasp of reality.

At the very moment the sword materialized, Wang Lin’s long hair stirred as if caught in an unseen gale. From within his body echoed a series of deep, resonant thrums, and his aura surged, swiftly rising from the peak of Spirit Severing’s initial stage to its advanced heights.

With a sudden, powerful surge of will, Wang Lin clenched his right fist. The raw power unleashed by this simple action caused the surrounding starlit void to shudder, as though the very cosmos was held captive within his grasp.

Rising slowly to his feet, Wang Lin swept his sleeve. The seven swords born of his origin roared past him, merging into his body and vanishing from sight.

Then, with a gesture of his right hand, he seized hold of the tattered ghost-face sail that had once been torn. As his gaze fell upon the canvas, the rent in the fabric began to knit itself back together at an impossible speed, until, within moments, it was whole once more, without flaw or blemish.

The ghost-face upon the sail remained grotesque and unsettling, yet to Wang Lin’s eyes, it now held a peculiar sense of familiarity.

The ghost-face sail had become, utterly and irrevocably, his treasure!

“The illusions of the Great Soul Sect of the Immortal-Astral Continent are but a form of restriction, a part of the very essence of the forbidden. For restrictions, like illusions, are inherently false, dependent on perception. If you believe in their existence, they exist. If you possess the power to disregard them, they cease to be…”

“This is the nature of illusion, akin to, yet profoundly different from, the distinction between truth and falsehood! Though I have come to a personal understanding of the essence of restriction, that essence is not yet complete. It is only a derivation, born from and anchored to my own being…”

“To truly master the essence of restriction, one must transform oneself into the cosmos itself. One’s own rules must become the rules of the heavens, one’s own will must become the laws of existence. That path… is difficult, difficult, beyond difficult…”

Wang Lin shook his head in silence, stowing the ghost-face sail before striding forward, step by measured step.

“There is still much that remains to be done. I must dedicate time to studying the illusions and restrictions woven within this ghost-face sail… But the time has come for me to leave this place.” With the rippling movement of white hair, Wang Lin’s silhouette faded slowly into the distance.

This journey to the Cloud Sea had been of great benefit to Wang Lin. He had obtained the power of the Ancient Dao Eight Stars, achieved mastery of the Spirit Severing stage, obtained the ghost-face sail and the ability to maneuver the Soul-Devouring Ship, and formed an alliance with that mysterious woman, Fan Shanlu.

Most importantly, it was from the Seven-Colored Daoist that he gleaned a glimpse of a possible path to finding his third soul.

At that same moment, upon the Immortal-Astral Continent, within the lands controlled by the Immortal Clan, a battle of immense proportions was erupting high above the nine heavens. The conflict remained largely unseen by those on the ground, their cultivation too weak to perceive such matters. All that the common cultivators saw was a hazy, misty sky that had persisted for many months.

“Xuan Luo, your strength is far less than it was in your youth. Surely the time for your reincarnation draws near… Have you found one to safeguard your essence? If not, I would be willing to offer you such a guardian.”

“Dao Yi, you have been dogging my steps since I entered the Immortal Clan Continent. If you persist in this obstruction, I will slaughter every member of your Dao Yi Sect!” Above the nine heavens, the crimson sun shone down upon a tranquil-looking Xuan Luo, who spoke calmly.

“Slaughter my Dao Yi Sect? Your haste suggests that your arrival in Immortal Clan territory concerns matters of great import!”

“Wherever Xuan Luo goes, matters of great import are sure to follow. Will you yield, or will you not?” Xuan Luo had little patience for such scheming and deception. A flash of cold light shone in his eyes.