Bearing the Dragon Emperor’s Lash, Xuan Luo raised his right hand and with sudden force, unleashed its fury. The whip, like a venomous serpent awakened, hissed through the air, aimed directly at the maw of the cavernous gate. A spectral light shimmered along its length as it transformed into a roaring dragon, plunging into the darkness beyond the threshold.

A thunderous roar echoed, shaking the very foundations of the cavern. The gateway, bathed in a golden, chaotic haze, fractured and shattered upon the Dragon Lash’s impact. An unseen force, potent and wild, surged forth, tearing a gaping rift through the swirling mists that veiled the entrance.

The fissure plunged into an unfathomable abyss, its depths a canvas of absolute black. An oppressive pressure emanated from within, a tangible weight that gathered around the ragged edges of the breach, squeezing and constricting, threatening to seal the wound.

Xuan Luo’s eyes gleamed with determination. Again he swung the Lash, nine times in rapid succession, each blow resonating like the death knell of worlds. With the final strike, the Dragon Lash swelled to an immeasurable size, a serpentine behemoth spanning leagues. It crashed into the gate, obliterating the remaining mists, and forming a living path of scaled hide leading into the unknown!

A path of shadows, leading to the realms of Immortals and Gods, a twisting road echoing the cycle of rebirth!

“To transcend this mortal coil, one must brave the trials of the Immortal’s rules, and the peril of lost souls. Remember this, cling to the Dragon’s Path, and it shall guide you to your new beginnings!” Xuan Luo intoned, his voice resonating with ancient power. He wove intricate gestures with his hands, forming a sacred seal before his chest, then tore it asunder with a surge of force.

“Spirits of Mountain and Wild, heed my call! By the name of Xuan Luo, I command you to manifest!” A vortex of energy swirled between his hands, birthing a vision of ethereal beauty.

A world of pristine white unfolded, dominated by a snow-capped mountain that pierced the heavens. Its form, untouched by the stain of civilization, resonated with an untamed power that stirred the very soul.

“Rebirth is fraught with shadowed illusions, traps for the wandering soul. This Mountain Spirit, I forged from the bones of an ancient mountain of the Immortal realm, infused with the essence of countless mountain spirits, and consecrated into a guardian deity!

This ward shall protect your souls from dissolution!” Xuan Luo gestured, and the illusionary mountain fractured, its essence cascading toward the Dragon’s Path. The chilling breath of winter swept through the gateway, encasing the scaled passage in layers of crystalline ice, a shimmering white frost that spread into the infinite darkness.

The Path of Rebirth, guarded by the snows of ages, was now complete. A safe passage to new life was opened to them.

“Blade of Heaven, Third Spirit! By the name of Xuan Luo, I command you to manifest!” Xuan Luo touched his forehead. A violet light erupted from the third eye, and a sword the length of a finger screamed into existence.

“Forged in the void between stars, from the shards of ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine shattered worlds. To quench its thirst, I brought it to the immortal realms where it devoured an equal number of divine souls.

This blade is savage! Its birth brings fear, its presence a doom to the lands! Today, I offer it as your guardian on this perilous journey to rebirth! It shall guide your path and keep you safe.” With a flick of his wrist, Xuan Luo launched the deadly blade into the dark, its aura reaching far beyond the dragon’s path.

This path, forged from dragon’s might and guarded by icy sentinels, now possessed an edge forged by a world-ending blade. Although the journey was treacherous, it was free from all but the divine will.

“Demon of Winds, Fourth Spirit! By the name of Xuan Luo, I command you to manifest!” Xuan Luo’s preparations were not yet complete.

He bit his tongue and spat into his palm. A pool of sanguine light that in seconds turned black. The ebony fluid pulsed, releasing an ethereal dark mist that swirled and coalesced before Xuan Luo, forming a dark and terrible figure.

The form was vague and ever-changing, but the waves of demonic energy were powerful. Evil made manifest, born of the collective sins of the cosmos!

“This Demon I have spent ages shaping, drawing the malice and ill will of countless souls.

It is a spirit given life.

It can be seen as my third and most powerful weapon!

With it, a seal will be cast so that you can keep your memories safe until you are reborn and awakened to your old selves.

This will not only protect you, but if your new body is not subjected to the most intense spiritual inspection, no one will know who you once were!

Now, the Path to rebirth is finally done!” Xuan Luo beckoned, and the obsidian mist swept toward the cavern gate, enveloping the icy path, transforming the icy path into a dark mirror.

Having called upon his greatest weapons, Xuan Luo showed no sign of exhaustion. His power was boundless, a force that could heal such wounds in an instant. He clenched his right fist, and when he opened it, a blood-red sun floated in his palm.

It was a construct of pure energy, but under Xuan Luo’s intense gaze, it solidified into a tangible object, a sun that could be held and felt.

“Wang Lin, this essence I draw from my own self. Use it to amplify your abilities, to dream the world anew, and to weave their minds into slumber!
When you are reborn, you can go to them and awaken them to their old selves.”
The miniature sun, pulsing with crimson light, floated toward Wang Lin, who grasped it firmly.
The instant the crimson sun grazed Wang Lin’s fingertips, a tremor ran through his very soul. He perceived, with chilling clarity, a power dwelling within that incandescent sphere, a force beyond his comprehension, yet potent enough to make his spirit quail. It pulsed, a phantom presence, just beyond his grasp.

“So this is the might of a Nine Suns Great Venerate…” Wang Lin murmured, his gaze fixed upon the bloody orb. He fell silent for a moment, then closed his eyes, unleashing the arcane art of his own devising: the Dream Weaver’s Path.

Dreamweaving, a technique born from Wang Lin’s own spirit, already possessed formidable strength. Now, amplified by the mystic relic of Xuan Luo, it surged beyond all bounds, its potency magnified tenfold, nearing the threshold of dream-made-real!

An invisible ripple emanated from Wang Lin’s form, enveloping all those gathered around him. Slowly, one by one, including even the stoic Li Qianmei, their eyelids drifted shut, and they sank into the realm of dreams.

Time trickled by, measured by the burning of an incense stick. Upon Wang Lin’s brow, a faint glyph began to materialize. Simultaneously, on the foreheads of those slumbering beside him, identical symbols flickered into existence.

These runes resonated, weaving a web of arcane connection. It was a link that would, in ages to come, allow Wang Lin to find them again, no matter where the tides of fate carried them.

Then, with a sound like shattering glass, the sun in Wang Lin’s hand fractured, its light fading into nothingness.

As the last ember of the sun winked out, Wang Lin’s eyes snapped open. Around him, his companions stirred, their own eyes fluttering open. The runes upon their foreheads, once ephemeral, now burned with a stark clarity.

An indescribable sensation washed over the assembled souls. Whether their eyes were open or closed, they felt the subtle presence of one another, a ghostly tether binding them. Wang Lin felt this connection most acutely, a chord resonating within his very being.

“The veil of rebirth will dim these ties, yet so long as you are not too far flung across the planes, a faint sense of one another shall remain. Now, each of you, tread the Dragon’s Path. I shall guide you to rebirth!” Xuan Luo’s voice boomed, filled with ancient authority, silencing Wang Lin and his companions.

Qing Lin sighed, stepping forward. He was the first to approach the gateway to the void. His daughter, Qing Shuang, trailed close behind. Zhou Yi readied himself to follow, but a thread of unseen force snared him, halting his advance.

“Hold, Brother Zhou,” Wang Lin’s voice echoed in Zhou Yi’s mind. “Your affairs… I shall find a way to aid you in your rebirth.”

“Wang Lin, we shall meet again upon the Immortal Astral Continent!” Qing Lin declared with a forced nonchalance, turning to offer Wang Lin a final bow before the threshold. Yet, in his eyes, a yearning glance at all he was leaving behind betrayed his true emotions.

With a final breath, Qing Lin stepped into the mirror-black mist beyond the doorway, vanishing without a trace. Qing Shuang, her face an impassive mask that seemed to defy all earthly emotion, paused at the gateway. Her cold gaze swept over Zhou Yi.

“Pray, do not trouble me in the days to come…” Her words, as frigid as her beauty, hinted at a deeper meaning. Then, she too, dissolved into the swirling mists.

Zhou Yi stood silent, his face etched with sorrow.

Wang Lin watched him. Two millennia they had known one another, and Wang Lin was well-aware of Zhou Yi’s unyielding love for Qing Shuang, and the tragic tale that had bound them together. A sigh escaped Wang Lin’s lips. He raised his hand to his brow, tracing the faint rune. A portion of its essence seemed to detach, dimming the glyph slightly. This fragment he pressed to Zhou Yi’s forehead.

“Go, Brother Zhou. I have imprinted you with the seal that veils Qing Shuang’s memories. Thus, in your rebirths, perhaps a fragile thread shall linger. Perhaps… you shall find each other once more.”

Zhou Yi nodded, his face a mask of bitterness. He bowed low to Wang Lin, his back bowed beneath the weight of his sorrow, bearing a mixture of hope and despair, and an unyielding devotion, walked toward the gaping maw of the void, and disappeared.

The fourth to depart was Qing Shui. He approached Wang Lin, a gentle smile gracing his lips.

“Younger brother, I shall await you upon the Immortal Astral Continent. If you should find my daughter before I do, I beg you, watch over her.” As he spoke, his gaze softened, lingering on Hong Die, his eyes filled with paternal love.

Hong Die’s eyes welled with tears. She took a few steps forward, as if to speak, but bit back the words caught in her throat.

She watched Qing Shui step through the gateway, watched him vanish into the mist. Unbidden tears flowed freely down her face, transforming into a streak of scarlet, like a butterfly taking flight, before she too, vanished into the depths of the void.