A strand of hair, fragile as gossamer, settled into Wang Lin’s palm. An unsettling familiarity surged through him, a resonance he couldn’t explain. It was as if this single filament was a missing piece of his very being.

In his grasp, the hair offered no harm, remaining as inert as any stray strand. It lay suspended, poised to dance with a passing breeze.

Within the hallowed halls of the Immortal Dao Palace, a heavy silence had fallen. It was finally broken by the voice of the Immortal Emperor.

“…This token was not intended as a reward for you. But since you desire it, take it.”

Wang Lin’s carefully chosen words of gratitude had been crucial. This was his coronation, a spectacle witnessed by the entirety of the Immortal Clan. The celestial lion, a product of his very ascension, had birthed this strange hair. To deny him now would invite unwanted whispers.

Before the Immortal Dao Palace, Grand Astrologer Shangxuan Dao, his gaze laden with hidden meaning, addressed Wang Lin.

“…The blood offering concludes, marking the final trial of your coronation. Wang Lin, all present may challenge you, but only thrice. After these three trials, the Immortal Emperor’s decree shall stand!”

At the Astrologer’s pronouncement, from the teeming throngs below, the patriarchs of three of the Four Great Houses, save for House Li, raised their heads in unison. These were ancient men, each a cultivator of the Ascended Lord realm!

One among them, clad in crimson robes, blurred into a streak of light, halting a hundred paces from Wang Lin. He bowed deeply, his voice resonating with barely suppressed power.

“…This old one seeks the honor of being the first to test the mettle of the White-Haired Ascended Lord!” The elder’s eyes gleamed with an unsettling light. Even before Wang Lin could respond, he seated himself cross-legged in the air. Raising his right hand, his skin tightened, revealing veins like thick cords beneath. A dark miasma began to seep from his body, coalescing into a monstrous, shadowy figure.

This apparition wore armor of abyssal black, its face obscured, its eyes sealed shut. Yet, its mere presence twisted the very fabric of reality around the imperial palace, conjuring a tempestuous maelstrom.

“…Wang Lin, show us your strength!” the elder roared, biting his tongue. A spray of crimson blood, like a spectral mist, enveloped the shadowy form. Stoked by the vital essence, the apparition’s eyes snapped open, burning with infernal light.

With a guttural growl, it raised a hand, conjuring a long, black spear. It lunged towards Wang Lin with impossible speed!

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t recognize the man, but from his position amongst the gathered cultivators, he surmised the challenger was from one of the Four Great Houses.

The shadowy figure pulsed with immense power, its advance a sonic boom threatening to cleave the sky. Wang Lin did not retreat. Instantly, the Celestial Bull Soul Armor manifested, engulfing his form in shimmering protection. He raised his right fist, each knuckle blazing with power.

His fist met the tip of the black spear at the moment of impact. An earth-shattering roar ripped through the air!

Under the force of the blow, Wang Lin staggered, his right hand slowly retracting. But the shadowy figure before him shattered into a thousand pieces, swirling back into the void. The seated elder paled instantly. With a desperate cry, he slammed both hands against his forehead!

He sacrificed his very life force, his remaining years of vitality, pouring forth an even denser wave of black miasma. With each expelled breath, the elder withered, his face becoming gaunt and sunken, as if he had clawed his way out of a forgotten tomb.

The amplified darkness solidified the shadowy figure. Beneath it, a spectral warhorse materialized, its nostrils flaring, its eyes burning with spectral fire. The steed screamed, charging towards Wang Lin with its armored rider.

Wang Lin’s expression hardened beneath the Soul Armor. As the dark figure descended, he placed his hands above his head, arching his back in a defiant stance, then launched himself forward in a brutal, headlong charge!

The Celestial Bull Ram!

Behind Wang Lin, the colossal spectral form of the Celestial Bull materialized, bellowing a primal challenge. Its massive horns, gleaming with celestial energy, slammed into the shadowy figure.

*BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!*

The black figure, steed and rider alike, collapsed, unable to withstand the force of the impact. The Celestial Bull’s shadow pierced through the dissipating miasma, charging directly towards the Grand Astrologer Shangxuan Dao, standing serenely before the Immortal Dao Palace!

It seemed a mere coincidence, the Celestial Bull roaring towards him. Yet the Grand Astrologer remained impassive, his face betraying no hint of surprise. He simply raised his right hand, and with a gesture of subtle calculation, pointed a single finger forward.

His finger met the charging Celestial Bull’s shadow, which shuddered violently.

“…*Wu*, Nothingness, is a facet of the Great Dao. Because existence is, when it is lost, it becomes *Wu*.” As the Grand Astrologer spoke, his voice echoing with timeless wisdom, the Celestial Bull’s shadow vanished into nothingness before him.

From existence, it was extinguished, and became *Wu*. The scene mirrored his very words.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed. In that instant, he had felt an unimaginable power emanating from the Grand Astrologer, a profound understanding of the Dao, far beyond his own comprehension.

With the Celestial Bull dissipated, and the sacrifice of the elder wasted, the shadowy figure vanished completely. The elder, still seated in the air, his face ashen and weathered, rose with a weary sigh. He bowed towards Wang Lin, offering no further challenge, and descended to the earth, returning to his clan’s ranks.

“…The second chal—” The Grand Astrologer, still standing before the Immortal Dao Palace, smiled faintly. But his words were cut short, his brow furrowing.

Not only him, but Wang Lin also turned, his gaze scanning the distance. Many of the assembled cultivators had noticed the disturbance. They too, frowned in unison.

“Hmph! What audacity! Such a grand spectacle, and you dare not invite this King? Have you…have you forgotten who I am!?”

“Little Red, Little Green, Little White, Little Blue! Clear the way for your King!” From beyond the nine gates of the imperial palace, bathed in the shimmering light of a teleportation array, emerged a boisterous procession.

At its head was a young man, clad in flamboyantly patterned robes, wielding a folding fan with practiced ease. His face contorted with mock outrage, he fanned himself vigorously, causing his hair to dance wildly in the artificial breeze.
Pale as a wraith, Xu Liguo trembled beside him, his legs threatening to buckle under the very weight of the Imperial City. The youth in jade robes fared no better, his face drained of color, replaced by a burgeoning terror. He clutched at the sleeve of the flamboyant, flower-clad nobleman, his voice a desperate whisper, barely audible above the murmur of the crowd.

“Lord…Lord, this is the Imperial Palace!”

“The Imperial Palace can go hang itself! I am a Lord! Now you, worm, clear the path!” The nobleman, clearly displeased, seized the jade-robed boy and shoved him forward.

“Little Hong, unleash the arrogance you wielded in the Li Manor, lest you tarnish my name! Or you’ll regret it when we return!” The nobleman’s boot connected with Xu Liguo’s backside. The man, quaking under the gaze of thousands of cultivators gathered in the plaza, gritted his teeth. He took a few faltering steps, feigning bravado, only to erupt in a gout of crimson. Clutching the point of impact, he convulsed briefly before falling still.

“Ah? Dead?” The nobleman blinked, staring down at his foot, a flicker of perplexity crossing his features.

High above, Wang Lin watched the unfolding scene, his eyes fixed on the flower-clad nobleman in the distance. Though his appearance was altered, Wang Lin recognized him instantly. It was the Madman.

The nobleman flourished his painted fan, circling Xu Liguo’s motionless form, punctuating his orbit with a series of prodding kicks.

“Hmph, feigning death, are we? Trying to deceive your Lord? I once knew someone else who feigned death…hmmm, who was it…” He mumbled to himself, racking his memory in vain before shrugging it off. Abandoning the prone Xu Liguo, he swaggered forward, radiating arrogance. Every cultivator he encountered recoiled, their faces etched with weary resignation as they hastily yielded way.

“Homage to the Lord!”

“We greet you, Lord!”

The cries followed him in an unbroken wave, fueling the nobleman’s self-importance. He continued his soliloquy under his breath.

“Why are there so many people today? Could it be my brother’s hosting a bride-choosing ceremony? Ah, Old Luo, what happened to you? You look withered, like a plucked flower.” The nobleman halted before the elder who had dared to challenge Wang Lin, his eyes widening with theatrical concern as he boomed his question.

“Who dares bully Little Flower’s Grandfather?! By the ancestors, I’ll teach them a lesson! Old Luo, tell me, who did this to you? Tell me!” The nobleman puffed out his chest, his fan a blur in his hand.

“Was it him?! It has to be him! I’ve never liked that fellow. Acting so youthful despite his ancient age. It was you! I…I’ll strangle you!” The nobleman pointed a finger at the national preceptor, who stood before the Immortal Dao Hall, his brow furrowed. He dashed forward, seemingly intent on fulfilling his threat.

But the jade-robed youth, ever clinging to the nobleman’s shadow, threw his arms around his leg.

“Lord, the Royal Envoy… He…He is the National Preceptor! Lord, let us return…” The youth was pale with fright, his grip unyielding despite the nobleman’s attempts to shake him off.

“He insulted Little Flower’s Grandfather! I cannot let it stand! You refuse to release me, you wretch? Fine, I’ll take you with me!” The nobleman fanned himself with renewed vigor, dragging the unfortunate youth along, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light as he vowed to throttle the National Preceptor.

Wang Lin, suspended in the air, watched the Madman’s antics with a complex mix of emotions. He had journeyed to the Ancestral City to see if his old friend would recognize him.

He watched as the nobleman, fan fluttering, dragged the pleading youth towards the Immortal Dao Hall. Xu Liguo, still lying prone in the distance, flickered his eyes open. He glanced at the flower-clad figure, then promptly snapped them shut once more.

“Dao Fei!” Just as the nobleman, hauling the jade-robed youth, stood before the National Preceptor, baring his teeth and raising his hands to strike, the Immortal Emperor’s weary voice echoed from within the Immortal Dao Hall.

“What’s going on! You hold a bride-choosing ceremony without informing me! You…You are insufferable!” The nobleman glared at the Immortal Emperor enthroned within the hall.

“Dao Fei, cease this childishness. Today is the Ennoblement Ceremony for your benefactor. See your benefactor, and pay your respects!” The Immortal Emperor’s words resonated with gentle power, effortlessly pushing the Madman back a score of paces from the National Preceptor.

“Benefactor?” The nobleman tilted his head, confusion clouding his features.