The passage of time, which in ordinary days was a mere whisper, felt drastically different in this final month before departing the Cave World.

Ten days vanished as if they were but a blink.

During this fleeting period, Wang Lin sought out Fan Shanlu, the First Consort of the Seven-Colored Immortal Sovereign, possessor of the Immortal Astral bloodline. She had the power to traverse the opened gates of the Cave World herself, returning to her homeland.

Fan Shanlu’s departure left behind her immense vessel. Wang Lin, having already refined the Ghostface Sail, the core nexus of its enchantments, now controlled it with ease, storing it within his interdimensional space.

In those same ten days, Wang Lin also located a cultivator’s star. Using his formidable arcane might, he discovered a recently deceased body. Infusing it with his source energy, he molded it anew, before merging it with the soul of a humble commoner. Through Wang Lin’s assistance, the soul and body bonded, becoming a nascent Divine Soul.

With these tasks complete, Wang Lin walked alone across the starry expanse. He gazed upon the familiar sights, his heart heavy with a burgeoning sense of longing.

This sorrow, initially a faint whisper, intensified with each step he took along the paths of his past.

He sighed softly, and his form vanished into the brilliant starlight. When he reappeared, he stood before the junction of the Four Great Star Domains, the very threshold of the Immortal Realm!

Stepping into the Immortal Realm, amid the spreading ripples of celestial energy, Wang Lin unleashed his divine sense. It enveloped the entirety of the Immortal Realm, broadcasting the knowledge that those who departed would be subjected to the trials of reincarnation.

“Those who desire to leave this place, seek me out… In half a month, I, Wang Lin, shall depart…” He settled into a meditative posture upon the mountain where he once secluded himself, silently closing his eyes.

To stay or to leave was a choice, one Wang Lin would not interfere with. He merely opened a door, its outcome on the cultivators of the Cave World unknown.

Therefore, he entrusted each who yearned for departure to weigh the costs and benefits for themselves.

On the second day of Wang Lin’s vigil upon the mountain, Situ Nan arrived. He trod upon the wind, his feet cushioned by white clouds. Amidst the swirling energies of the space before Wang Lin, he approached, a flask of wine in hand, until he stood beside him.

Situ Nan appeared as always, his long hair flowing freely, clad in simple attire. He took a swig from his flask, seated himself upon the ground, and gazed at the clouds, a hint of concern veiled beneath his otherwise tranquil countenance.

“Wang Lin, tell me… after reincarnation, might I become a prince in the mortal realms of the Immortal Astral Continent?” Situ Nan murmured.

The melancholy of farewell was somewhat dispelled by Situ Nan’s words. A smile graced Wang Lin’s lips as he took the flask from Situ Nan, taking a long draft.

“If, by some twist of fate, I should reincarnate as a prince, be sure not to seek me out too swiftly! Let this old man enjoy his lifetime of princely indulgence, and *then* come find me,” Situ Nan chuckled, glancing at Wang Lin.

“You have decided then?” Wang Lin asked, returning Situ Nan’s gaze. Lifelong companions, they were also each other’s teachers. Now, as they stood upon the precipice of parting, two millennia of memories flashed between them.

“Decided! With my talent, it would be a waste not to wreak a little havoc on the Immortal Astral Continent! What’s the Immortal Astral Continent anyway? I’ll live even more merrily there!” Situ Nan bellowed, his expression carefree.

“We’ll frolic together upon the Immortal Astral Continent, without a care in the world!” Situ Nan snatched the flask from Wang Lin, taking another hearty gulp.

Wang Lin calmly regarded Situ Nan. Their eyes met, and after a long moment, Situ Nan sighed deeply.

“Don’t you forget to come find me, lad! By the heavens, I’m going to be born a prince!” With his sigh, Wang Lin nodded.

“If I survive, I will seek you out.”

Qingshui was the second to seek Wang Lin. Beside him stood Hongdie, his daughter. Together, father and daughter descended from the void, alighting beside Wang Lin.

Qingshui spoke little. He stood there, cast Wang Lin a silent glance, and remained quiet. Hongdie’s eyes were tinged with red, her countenance revealing a blend of reluctance and grief, as if their choice held a truth unknown to Wang Lin.

“Hanyan, there must be a way upon the Immortal Astral Continent for you to be with me once more! When that time comes, our family will be together…” Qingshui’s gaze softened as it fell upon Hongdie, revealing a father’s love.

Beyond Situ, Qingshui, and Hongdie, the fourth to arrive was Thirteen!

Thirteen’s reasoning was simple: wherever Wang Lin went, he, as Wang Lin’s disciple, was bound to follow. Be it through fiery depths or reincarnation, in his heart, a master for one lifetime was a master for eternity!

Silently seated in meditation behind Wang Lin, Thirteen’s demeanor had become even more steadfast. The bloodlust that once enveloped him had diminished over the years, now restrained, held dormant until unleashed.

Time flowed onward. Others arrived from the far reaches of the Immortal Realm, one by one, and sat in meditation beside Wang Lin. They had chosen to depart.

On the ninth day of Wang Lin’s return to the Immortal Realm, Li Qianmei arrived.

Clad in a white gown, she appeared thinner than before. Her expression held a touch of sorrow, but also a determination and dedication. Before Wang Lin, Li Qianmei gazed at the figure she could not forget, concealing the sorrow within her eyes.

“Should I go…?” Li Qianmei asked softly, biting her lip.

Wang Lin opened his eyes, regarding Li Qianmei for a long moment.

“Should I go…?” Li Qianmei repeated softly, her voice trembling.

Wang Lin regarded Li Qianmei. He saw her helplessness, the complexity within her heart, which mirrored his own. The words of the past echoed in his ears.

“Should I go…?” Li Qianmei’s face was pale, forcing a weak smile. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, turned, and began to walk away.
“To the Immortal Astral Continent… until the day I find you, until the day I unlock the memories veiled within you… perhaps a decade, a century, or a millennium… will you… wait?” Wang Lin’s right hand rose, grasping Li Qianmei’s, his voice swirling like the wind itself.

Li Qianmei halted in her tracks, turning to face Wang Lin. She spoke not a word, but simply nodded, a silent promise etched in her gaze.

“I will find you as well,” Wang Lin declared, his eyes fixed upon her. With a gentle tug, he drew her to his side, and together they sat.

The moment Wang Lin’s hand clasped hers, two trails of tears escaped her eyes, tracing paths down her cheeks to dampen her garments below.

“Father cannot bear to leave… he wishes to remain here, ever by mother’s side… I know not if I should depart… whether to stay and comfort him, or journey to the Immortal Astral Continent and await your arrival…” Her head bowed, Li Qianmei wrestled with the voices within, yet the touch of Wang Lin’s hand had silenced one, leaving only a single path.

“Do you… do you truly desire that I seek the Immortal Astral Continent?” She bit her lip, lifting her gaze to meet his, her eyes clouded with uncertainty.

Wang Lin paused, a moment of contemplation before he nodded.

“Then… hasten to find me… I shall await you always,” Li Qianmei replied, the cloud of doubt lifting, replaced by a steadfast resolve.

Time flowed like an unseen river, leaving only three days of Wang Lin’s allotted fifteen within this Immortal Realm. In the preceding days, many familiar faces had come, choosing to embrace the unknown, yet those who departed were but a fraction compared to those who remained.

For not all could face the gamble of reincarnation, the perils of an unknown world. These fears, intertwined, formed a crisis that appeared to them as a path with but a sliver of life amidst a sea of death.

Hong Shanzi chose reincarnation, while Nan Yunzi, after a torment of deliberation, opted to remain.

And so it was with others known to Wang Lin – Zhan Konglie, Yan Leizi, and more – each chose to linger within the Domain of the Caves, unwilling to venture beyond.

As twilight descended upon the penultimate day, the heavens were cloaked in a dusky haze, obscuring distant detail. Only the surrounding mountains remained visible, their silhouettes gilded by the fading light, a scene of ethereal beauty, like a canvas painted in shades of gold.

Across this picturesque landscape, three figures approached. The central figure, a man of middle years, possessed a noble air and bore the marks of a life well-worn – Qinglin himself.

By his side walked his daughter, Qing Shuang, her face an impassive mask as she gazed ahead, seemingly indifferent to the presence of Zhou Yi behind. Zhou Yi, accustomed to her demeanor, betrayed no regret. His eyes, fixed upon her, held the weight of years of longing and unspoken memories.

To gaze upon the same face, yet know it belonged to another, was a torment to Zhou Yi, a pain that threatened to tear him asunder. He could either relinquish his affections, or accept this new reality, however bittersweet.

“Wang Lin,” Qinglin announced, coming to a halt beside him, “My daughter and I have resolved to depart this realm, to seek reincarnation.” He glanced at Zhou Yi, a sigh unspoken.

When the final three days had passed, Zhou Ru, Shen Gonghu, and others made their choices and gathered before Wang Lin. This time, only a handful, less than twenty souls, had decided to venture forth.

On the final day, a gentle rain fell upon the Immortal Realm. Through the misty veil, a figure appeared, clad in white, graceful as a willow branch swaying in the breeze – Mu Bingmei. As Wang Lin lifted his gaze, he beheld her, a vision of ethereal beauty beneath the rain.

Dark strands of hair framed a face of painted perfection, a beauty both otherworldly and pure. Her presence seemed to hush the very world, leaving only the gentle patter of rain, a sound imbued with an uncanny power, a power to obliterate all else, shrouding her in an ethereal mist.

This was the beauty of Mu Bingmei, or perhaps, more accurately, of Liu Mei. For in that moment, her attire, her very expression, were echoes of a past Wang Lin could never forget.