In the heart of a bitter winter, as snowflakes danced upon the wind, two figures descended from the hallowed peaks of the Violet Sun Sect. One followed closely behind the other, and they were none other than Wang Lin and his companion, Liu Jinbiao.

A year of quietude had passed, a year in which Wang Lin, yearning for the familiar embrace of his homeland, had devoted himself to meditation and the rhythmic practice of Qi cultivation. This diligence had borne fruit, for the Wood Origin within his being had reached near perfection. The attainment of a true body formed of Wood essence was now tantalizingly close.

His Thunderous True Body, imbued with a rare and potent origin, had reached its zenith within the Eastern Serenity Sect. No longer would he need to seek further unique origins to empower it; it was complete. As for his Five Elemental True Body, the Wood Origin now stood on the precipice of true manifestation, while the Golden Origin lagged behind, still in its lesser phase, yet to reach full maturity. Wang Lin knew what was required to bring the Golden Origin to completion – but a shard of the Immortal Extremes Sword, and it would be so.

Should the Golden Origin achieve its grand culmination, then even without the physical manifestation of a true body, the Five Elements would coalesce into one. This convergence would elevate Wang Lin’s cultivation from the middle stage of Void Tribulation to the glorious realm of the Golden Paragon.

Lastly, there was the Origin of Emptiness. Having grasped the concepts of Life and Death, Cause and Effect, and Truth and Illusion, Wang Lin had, within the Eastern Serenity Sect, glimpsed the fourth facet of Emptiness: Reincarnation.

He had only brushed against the edge of this Reincarnation Origin, as if pushing open a door to a vast and unexplored chamber. He had acquired a seed of this origin, which now lay dormant within him, awaiting the nurturing touch of continuous meditation and profound contemplation.

“The cultivation of a Golden Paragon is not difficult… it is the Origin of Emptiness that presents the true challenge…” Wang Lin murmured to himself, his voice barely audible against the howling wind. “The journey to the Imperial City, a place once graced by the Immortal Ancestor’s presence, may hold the key. Perhaps there, I shall sense the aura of the Immortal Extremes Sword once more.” He continued his trek into the teeth of the storm.

The distance between the Violet Sun Sect in the East Continent and the Imperial City in the Central Continent was vast, a daunting expanse that would test even the most seasoned cultivators. Swift flight alone would prove insufficient; the passage required the use of teleportation arrays.

With a determined stride, Wang Lin’s silhouette was lost to the swirling snow, dissolving into the very fabric of the world. Employing the arcane art of spatial compression, he carried Liu Jinbiao and the Sea Dragon away from the East Continent, diminishing the distance between them and their destination with each step.

Behind them, at the gates of the Violet Sun Sect, stood the solitary figure of Reverend Lone Cliff. By his side, two young girls, their eyes filled with melancholy, watched the departing figure until it vanished into the horizon.

“Will he return?” the child called Wawa asked, her voice tinged with sorrow.

“Will we see him again?” echoed Hanhan, gazing into the distance with equal trepidation.

“He shall… most likely…” Lone Cliff replied softly. “I have entrusted him with a jade scroll. Should he face an insurmountable crisis in the Central Continent, you shall be alerted without delay. This is our pact with him. And when the time comes, the Twin Sovereigns shall lend their aid.”

“Indeed. Little Wang Lin chose us, and we shall not allow anyone to harm him!” Wawa declared, glancing at Hanhan. The two girls nodded in unison, their young faces etched with solemn resolve.

The Central Continent, the very heart of the Immortal Clan’s domain, was a land of immense scope and profound spiritual energy. A place of unparalleled prosperity and talent. At its core lay the Imperial City.

Its sprawling expanse rivaled that of an entire continent, making it the grandest and most imposing city within the entire Immortal-Astral Continent. Even the imperial cities of the Ancient Clans’ thirty-six prefectures could not compare to this bastion of the Immortal Clan. This city was known, throughout the Immortal Clan, as the Ancestral City!

Within the Ancestral City, only one sect held sway – the sect of the Imperial Clan’s Grand Tutor, Superior Daoxuan. This sect’s origins were ancient, its roots intertwined with the descendants of the Immortal Ancestor. Their fates were bound together, rising and falling in unison.

Throughout the ages, the sect had borne different names, each one bestowed upon it by the reigning Immortal Emperor upon ascending the throne. This pledge of loyalty was sealed when the Emperor’s Immortal Ancestor bloodline awakened and they inherited the title of Grand Sovereign of the Eight Extremes. At that time, they would bestow upon the sect a new name.

The current Immortal Emperor, Lian Daozhen, had named this enigmatic sect the Gate of Dao! The current sect master of the Gate of Dao was none other than Superior Daoxuan, a close advisor to the Immortal Emperor and a figure of immense power.

Superior Daoxuan possessed unfathomable cultivation, particularly in the art of divination. His prowess was such that he could stand alone against the combined might of the three Grand Tutors of the Ancient Clan!

The Gate of Dao was located somewhere within the Ancestral City, but its exact location remained a mystery. Throughout the ages, few had ever truly discovered its whereabouts. However, all secrets, no matter how well-guarded, eventually yield to the relentless march of time. Over the countless years, various speculations had arisen regarding the location of this mysterious sect.

Some believed it resided within a void space that overlapped with the Ancestral City.

Others claimed it lay within a spatial rift hidden somewhere within the city, its entrance concealed within the Imperial Palace itself.

Still others insisted it was nestled deep beneath the very foundations of the Ancestral City.

Of these varied conjectures, perhaps one held the key to the truth.

The Ancestral City was divided into four districts, each aligned with one of the cardinal directions: east, south, west, and north. The central area, forbidden to all but the privileged few, housed the Imperial Palace.

Within these four districts resided numerous mansions, each representing a powerful force. Though not sects, they possessed strength surpassing that of most.

Among these, the Four Principality Mansions stood supreme, each guarding one of the cardinal districts. The Li Mansion in the north, the Luo Mansion in the south, the Shan Mansion in the west, and the Meng Mansion in the east. They were like four colossal behemoths, holding the five continents in check.

Beyond these, within the Ancestral City, lay a power that seemed to rival the Imperial authority itself – Mount Fengzhi, situated between the eastern and western districts. It was known simply as the Imperial Mountain!

Imperial Mountain!

One mountain, one man, one Everlasting Sovereign, cast a shadow over the Ancestral City and the Imperial Palace, a weight that threatened to crush them both.

Many speculated that the mysterious Gate of Dao existed solely to counter the growing influence of the Imperial Mountain, which threatened to eclipse the Emperor’s authority.

Such was the framework of the Immortal Clan’s Ancestral City. Few outside its walls knew the details so intimately. Only a Grand Sovereign could perceive them so clearly. It was during his year at the Violet Sun Sect that Wang Lin, preparing for his journey to the Ancestral City, had received this knowledge. The Twin Sovereigns, employing the Soul Fusion technique, had imparted to him this information about the Ancestral City.

The Immortal Clan’s five great continents, along with the seventy-two lesser continents, each experienced the changing seasons in their own distinct manner. The harsh, wintry winds that swept from the East Continent had taken months to reach the Central Continent, blanketing it in a shroud of snow and ice.
The year turned in its celestial cycle, and upon Ancestral City fell the season’s first snow. A tempestuous flurry it was, cloaking half the venerable city in a silvery shroud. At the Eastern Gate, the swirling snow-blossoms blurred the very horizon, obscuring stone and spire alike.

Within these walls dwelled no mortal soul. Ancestral City was a rarity upon the Immortal Lands, a sanctuary solely for cultivators. The air thrummed with such potent celestial energy that it coalesced into a palpable, divine pressure. A mere mortal could not long survive within its embrace.

On this day, beyond the city’s Eastern Gate, across an endless plain blanketed in drifts of white, a lone figure emerged from the swirling storm. Clad in a humble rain cape and shadowed by a woven hat, he pressed onward, each step a defiant act against the howling wind and driving snow.

The hat concealed his features, but his bearing suggested a youth, not an elder burdened by years. Yet, despite his apparent youth, an aura of profound experience clung to him, an immutable testament to time’s relentless passage, untouched by the storm’s fury.

As he drew nearer, halting leagues from the city’s walls, the cloaked traveler raised his head. His gaze, as though piercing the veil of snow, locked upon the distant, imposing silhouette of Ancestral City.

“Immortal Emperor…” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the wind. “Wang Lin has arrived…” He stood motionless as snowflakes settled upon his cape and slowly erased his footprints, leaving no trace of his passage.

“This shall be my final pilgrimage within the Immortal Lands,” Wang Lin thought, a silent vow etched upon his heart. “I seek the Madman, to see if memory yet lingers… Then, I shall have no regrets.” He lowered his head, the brim of his hat shielding his face from both the elements and prying eyes, and resumed his relentless march towards the city.

He could have avoided Ancestral City, knowing the perils it held for him. Yet, he could not deny the pull that drew him here.

For in the tapestry of life, some actions are undertaken solely for the sake of a life without regret. Some pursue love with unwavering devotion, while others cling to friendships, seeking solace in shared memories.

Still others, driven by love for kin, will scale impossible cliffs, hand over hand, to reach those they hold dear.

Wang Lin was a soul bound by such affections. Family, love, and friendship were precious jewels in his solitary existence, few and far between.

To lose one was to lose a part of himself forever.

The Madman had shown him kindness. Their shared decades within the Dream Dao on Vermillion Bird Star forged a bond that could not be ignored. Wang Lin had to see his friend, to know of his well-being.

Driven by this unwavering thought, he ventured forth.

The wind buffeted him, the snow hindered his progress, yet he pressed on. As twilight painted the sky in hues of grey and purple, Wang Lin reached the Eastern Gate of Ancestral City. Standing before the towering structure, he felt dwarfed, a mere ant before a titan.

The city gate possessed no guards, unlike those of mortal realms. Ancestral City needed no such protection, for within its walls resided two Great Celestial Sovereigns and the veiled power of the Daoist Sect. Even the Ancient Clan, save for the Ancient Dao Great Celestial Sovereign, dared not tread lightly here, not even the formidable Xuan Luo.

As the dying light faded, and the crunch of his boots upon the accumulating snow echoed in the gathering gloom, Wang Lin passed through the Eastern Gate. His footfalls fell upon the ancient cobblestones of Ancestral City.

A wave of concentrated divine pressure washed over him as he crossed the threshold. This celestial force, capable of shattering the bodies of mortals, was easily withstood by cultivators, even proving beneficial to those who sought to absorb it. Some considered it a superior source of energy than even the most revered mountains and sects.

Yet, for Wang Lin, the pressure held no sway. He had long transcended the need for such crude absorption. He walked among the ancient stones, his gaze sweeping over the cityscape.

Despite the harsh weather, the city bustled with activity. Cultivators hurried about their business, none taking to the skies, instead moving on foot, as if mere mortals.

“Even dragons must coil within Ancestral City, and tigers must crawl,” Wang Lin mused, his voice a silent whisper. “Even the mightiest Celestial Sovereigns must abide by these unwritten laws… Or so it seems.” A flicker of cold light gleamed in his eyes, hidden beneath the brim of his hat.

“Except for me.”