For seven days, silence reigned throughout the subterranean halls. Those who ventured forth did so in hushed reverence, their lips sealed by an unspoken understanding. Some, emboldened by the stillness, crept from the depths onto the surface, where they beheld a transformation of the Empyrean Steppe so profound it left them speechless.

The three pronouncements Wang Lin had uttered before his seclusion echoed in their minds. Those who witnessed the shattered plains, the withered grasses, and the fissures that scarred the earth felt a chilling dread.

The scene before them was undeniable proof that Wang Lin’s words held no falsehood.

Moreover, it seemed the Green Devil Continent had vanished from the Steppe, save for a few fleeing souls who had escaped the storm. Wang Lin’s prophecy resonated with even greater force in their hearts.

Yan Luan, too, emerged onto the desolate landscape. Her eyes, sharpened by cultivation, perceived what others could not. To her, the entire Empyrean Steppe was naught but a colossal handprint upon the world.

Yet, trapped within the confines of that imprint, one often failed to see its true nature.

“A terrible slaughter occurred here seven days ago…” Yan Luan murmured, her voice heavy with the weight of her realization.

Xu Dongde stood beside her, a complex mixture of awe and apprehension etched upon his face.

“That Elder Wang,” he sighed, “he will undoubtedly soar to unimaginable heights. Before many years have passed, we shall be compelled to bow before him in humble respect.”

Seven days became weeks, and the memory of the carnage faded into the past month. A few brave souls ventured forth towards the edges of the Empyrean Steppe, seeking any sign of surviving Green Devil warriors.

But their quest was fruitless.

All transpired as Wang Lin had foretold. Every Green Devil warrior, save for the handful who fled, had perished.

The war for the Celestial Bull Continent raged on, yet the Empyrean Steppe remained eerily silent. With no new directives from the Great Soul Gate or the Returning to One Sect, they were bound to the subterranean halls, guarding the Third Celestial Bull Cavity.

The days were monotonous, until a warrior stumbled upon a broken artifact amid the steppes. Soon, the underground halls were emptied as the warriors scavenged for the discarded possessions of the fallen Green Devil warriors.

Most of these objects had been shattered by Wang Lin’s devastating power, reduced to worthless husks. Yet, a few remained intact, retaining some semblance of their former glory, and even the destroyed items held a certain value.

For the warriors, it was a welcome distraction from the horrors of war. There was no bloodshed or death, and having fought side-by-side, even strangers found a sense of camaraderie.

However, the mood shifted drastically within the halls. All returned in silence, their eyes casting furtive glances at a simple chamber.

Even Yan Luan was among them. A hush fell across the subterranean halls, as though any sound could disturb Wang Lin’s seclusion.

Through his victory and his prophecy, Wang Lin had earned their respect and reverence.

Time flowed onward, marking the passing of months.

After three months, the warriors of the underground halls had scoured the plains, leaving no stone unturned. Yet, Wang Lin remained in his chamber, unmoving.

Then, one day, as hundreds of warriors laughed and bartered in a makeshift market above, a tremor shook the sky. Distant rumbles echoed through the land.

The laughter ceased. Gone was their ease as each stood and cast off their months of carefree recovery. Instead, the hall was filled with solemnity.

The distant rumble was not coming from the Empyrean Steppe, but from further away, it covered every surface, and it created an eerie dark presence over the sky.

The rumbling passed over the warriors, it was unseen, but there was a palpable malice, bloodlust, and death that came with it.

The hundreds of warriors paused, not knowing the cause of the calamity. Some claimed to see the spirit of a Celestial Bull covered in blood and wailing.

These spirits were but a few of those gathered.

The tremors passed over the Steppe and those in the halls raced outside to see.

Yan Luan passed by Wang Lin’s place of seclusion and joined the others outside.

Only Wang Lin remained, the same as he was for the last few months. During the Empyrean Steppe fighting, his injuries had been set aside until now, and were currently being healed.

In the same way, during these three months, Wang Lin was familiarizing himself with the Soul Armor, but was also digesting how the Armor and his cultivation would work together.

The feeling was a treasure of memories, and would become a part of him to make him stronger later.
In those three moons, Wang Lin delved into the secrets of his waning moon magic. Alas, without the Soul Armor, the art was but a shadow of its true potential, a mere trick rather than a force of celestial power.

Then, as a thunderous roar echoed across the Skyreach Plains, Wang Lin, roused from his three-month seclusion, felt a piercing agony strike at his very soul. A cold sweat drenched him instantly.

Upon the right side of his face, the Sky Bull totem, like a brand of living fire, burned with a heat both intense and accompanied by a sorrowful rage beyond words.

This grief emanated from the Sky Bull itself!

Wang Lin’s heart trembled. He heard the muffled booms from the earth below, and as his eyes snapped open, gazing towards the heavens above his cave, visions flickered before him. Within the echoes of the roar, he glimpsed fragments of a dreadful scene.

He saw a mountain range in the land of the Sky Bull, where thousands of the Sky Bull Continent’s warriors battled relentlessly for months. One by one, they fell, until only a few hundred remained. Among them stood one clad in armor of darkest night, radiating the familiar aura of the Sky Bull’s essence.

Like Wang Lin, this warrior was chosen, a guardian of one of the Sky Bull’s seven vital points.

Wang Lin watched as the warrior fought valiantly, only to be assailed by a colossal crimson hand that descended from the heavens. Nine times that hand struck, shattering the warrior’s armor, obliterating his form, and scattering his very soul to the winds.

The crimson hand then morphed into an aged sorcerer with hair the color of blood. He stood in the air, a being of immense power, and was worshipped by the warriors of the Green Devil Continent below!

Though the vision held no sound, the act of slaying the Soul Armor-clad warrior spoke volumes. The old sorcerer’s power was beyond mortal comprehension!

With the death of the armored warrior, the entire mountain range crumbled, creating a desolate chasm of shattered stone.

As it collapsed, the invisible barrier formed by the interconnected Sky Bull Seven Points shattered. A breach was made, and the ancient protection was forever incomplete!

Wang Lin’s vision faded, and he awoke, silent for a long moment. He knew that only those who bore the Sky Bull Soul Armor could perceive this vision.

One of the Sky Bull’s Seven Points had fallen.

Hours later, the earth-shattering echoes slowly subsided, fading into the distance.

This sudden cataclysm instilled a sense of foreboding in all the warriors of the Skyreach Plains. Speculation ran rampant, but all knew that a grave event was at hand.

In the two months that followed, the warriors of the Skyreach Plains lost their ease, growing ever more grim. The celestial roar returned not once, but twice more!

Three times the heavens shook, three times mournful wails echoed across the land, and the dread in their hearts grew threefold.

Then, on the seventh day of the following month, a streak of light descended from the direction of the Sky Bull Continent, hurtling towards the Skyreach Plains’ underground palace. It coalesced into a black-robed elder, weary and disheveled.

This elder was not of the Great Soul Sect, but of the Returning Unity Sect!

“Skyreach Plains, Sky Bull Third Point, hear me! By decree of the Returning Unity Sect and the Soul One Order of the Great Soul Sect, you are commanded to depart this place at once! Retreat a million leagues to the Heavenscrap Peaks, where allies await. Obey and depart without delay!”

“Sky Bull Third Point, possessor of the Soul Armor, I am Ouyang Zhen! I beg an audience on matters of grave import!” The elder called out from the sky, his face etched with urgency, yet still maintaining an air of respect. For the bearer of the Soul Armor deserved respect!

As he bowed, Wang Lin’s eyes snapped open within the underground palace. In a blur, he vanished, appearing in the air before the elder.

Ouyang Zhen was taken aback by the youth of the one who bore the Soul Armor. Yet, he dared not underestimate him, for the ability to hold this place signified a great strength.

“The Sky Bull First, Second, and Seventh Points have been destroyed by the Green Devil Continent. The three Soul Armor wielders… have been extinguished… Ouyang has been sent to inform you: journey via teleportation array to the Returning Unity Sect, to undertake a mission of utmost secrecy!”