Throughout his life, Wang Lin had grown accustomed to the scrutiny, to the weight of a thousand eyes upon him. His countenance remained serene, untouched by the swirling currents of expectation. Clad in flowing white robes, his silver hair still as frozen moonlight, he stepped forward into the void.

“Who… is he?”

“He comes alone, and dares appear as the ninth drumbeat echoes? Surely, he possesses some station of singular import?”

“A stranger to these halls…” Whispered murmurs arose, a subtle hum against the backdrop of grandeur. Amidst this ocean of gazes, Wang Lin passed the countless tables, swept by the hundred and eight forbidden, the seventy-two sainted, the thirty-six illustrious branches of the Daoist lineage…

With each step, the attention focused upon him intensified, the murmurs swelling into a palpable buzz.

“Where does he intend to sit?!” “He dares approach the fore, where the four seats are reserved for the Great Celestial and the Imperial Tutor! The other two are kept for the venerable patriarchs of the Dao and Ancient bloodlines!” The tables stretched before him, one foremost, three behind. As Wang Lin drifted above the eighteen Royal Princes, each turned to regard him, their expressions grave. Seven of the eighteen rose in unison, bowing their heads in salute.

This gesture unleashed a tempest across the plaza. The collective gasp of nearly ten thousand souls overshadowed even the fanfare granted to the eighteen princes and the nine Immortal Generals.

Wang Lin paused, his gaze lingering upon those who had offered their respect. A faint smile touched his lips as he inclined his head in acknowledgment, then moved toward the nine Daoist Immortal Generals wreathed in shadows.

Eight of the nine remained silent, but the one whose might was whispered to rival the Immortals who had pierced the fourteenth layer of the celestial trials, the Sky-Soarer, flickered his hidden eyes and emitted a low snarl, moving to rise from his seat, as if to bar Wang Lin’s path.

But as he began to rise, Wang Lin’s icy gaze locked upon him, a flicker of crimson murder dancing in his depths. An overwhelming wave of oppressive power emanated from Wang Lin, vanishing as quickly as it appeared.

Yet, in that fleeting instant, the Sky-Soarer General was seized by a tremor that wracked his very core. He could not rise; terror filled his eyes, and he crashed back into his seat.

His mind reeled. Cold sweat slicked his brow. Wang Lin’s gaze had plunged him into a vision of utter carnage, where he had been slaughtered countless times, a nightmare from which he could not escape.

Never in his life had he experienced such horror. It felt as if that single glance had ripped through his flesh, crushed his bones, and devoured his soul. His heart hammered against his ribs, threatening to explode.

As the Sky-Soarer sank back into his chair, Wang Lin descended, alighting at the very front of the fan-shaped array of tables. He turned, surveying the hundreds of platforms and the countless tables that stretched across the sky, then cast his gaze upon the thousands assembled in the plaza below. With a flick of his sleeve, he calmly seated himself.

This act ignited a raging inferno within the gathering.

“Who is he, to occupy the seat of the Daoist Great Celestial? This…this is…”

“The pressure he exuded just now was immense! It felt as if my very heart had stopped. His Ancient power is unfathomable. He is no ordinary being!”

“I heard the Daoist Great Celestial recently accepted a disciple. Could this be him?! But he is so young…” “It *is* him!”

“The White-Haired Sky-Soarer! I never imagined he would be the disciple of the Xuan Celestial!” “What?! The White-Haired Sky-Soarer? But isn’t he of the Immortal race? It is said he is second only to the Great Celestials themselves! Some even whisper that he is the Tenth Sun of the Immortal Galaxy!”

Those who recognized Wang Lin belonged to the Imperial families of the three Ancient bloodlines, much like the Prince Jidu. The Daoist clan was somewhat aware of Wang Lin’s deeds, but the other two lineages wore expressions of guarded complexity, their gazes tinged with a palpable wariness.

In truth, they were not entirely ignorant of him. Xuan Celestial had brought Wang Lin to the lands of the Primeval and Utmost Ancient clans. Thus, these emissaries to the Daoist line had sought not only to deliver gifts, but to glean insight into the Daoist’s true strength.

Among those observing Wang Lin, one gaze burned with fervor and adoration. This belonged to Prince Jidu, perched on a platform overlooking the plaza.

Jidu had watched Wang Lin’s arrival, the murmurs that heralded his presence, and the placid air that cloaked him. He released a slow, measured breath.

“The name of my foster father is known throughout the Ancient clans! His power inspires awe and fear. If he would but aid me…” Jidu clenched his fist, resolve hardening his gaze.

Wang Lin ignored the attention fixed upon him. As he sat, his eyes closed, turmoil raged within. Like a demon seed taking root, an insidious impulse threatened to overwhelm him.

This feeling had arisen upon his arrival at the Imperial Palace, a seed of disquiet that had sprouted from the earlier unease. It was now in full bloom, startling him with its intensity.

He could suppress it, but it muddied his thoughts. Were it not for this inner unrest, he would not have unleashed that burst of pressure upon the Sky-Soarer General, exposing a sliver of his true power.

Such a creature was not worthy of such a display. Indeed, for a fleeting moment, he had felt the urge to slaughter them all, to paint the palace red with their blood.

“What is this? Why am I plagued by such darkness within these Daoist walls?” Wang Lin focused his spirit, circulating the powers in his body, slowly calming his mind. But even as he achieved a semblance of peace, a shadow of unease settled upon his heart.

“Something is amiss. Has some formation or ward been erected within this palace, to affect me so? Yet, I see no evidence of any such binding…” Wang Lin opened his eyes, his expression somber.

“Moreover, this madness is born of the unease I felt days ago. It has only grown stronger since I entered this place.”
A tremor ran through Wang Lin, a sensation unlike any he’d known. It felt as though a monumental event, one that would irrevocably alter the tapestry of his life, was about to unfold. Even facing the precipice of death countless times held no comparison to this oppressive weight in his soul. A subtle furrow etched its way onto his brow.

“This Ancient Dao Imperial Palace… I cannot linger,” he thought, resolve hardening his gaze. As he made his decision, the echoes of the ninth drumbeat faded into silence.

With the drums silenced, an unnerving quiet descended upon the square, encompassing the countless platforms that ringed the palace. All conversation ceased, every eye drawn to the imposing main hall.

“His Imperial Majesty approaches!” A voice, sharp and piercing as a shard of glass, erupted from the hall, its resonance shaking the very air. The immense doors to the hall groaned open, revealing their inner sanctum.

All gazes focused on the figure seated upon a colossal dragon throne at the hall’s end.

Clad in resplendent imperial robes, a crown of jade and gold resting upon his head, the man exuded an aura of awe-inspiring authority, a palpable pressure that choked the breath from the lungs. It was the Ancient Dao Emperor himself!

“We, your subjects, pay homage to His Imperial Majesty!” From the square to the platforms, every soul, including the eighteen Royal Princes, rose as one, bowing in unison toward the Emperor.

Those not of the Ancient Dao bloodline were permitted to remain standing, but every true son and daughter of the Dao knelt on one knee. Wang Lin, in silent contemplation, rose and offered a bow, but remained upright, refusing to bend his knee.

His expression remained outwardly serene, yet within, a tide of savage bloodlust churned and roared, threatening to overwhelm him. He felt on the verge of losing control.

This feeling intensified tenfold with the opening of the hall and the Emperor’s grand entrance.

“Rise, my subjects. Today is a day of rejoicing, a day of celebration for the entire Ancient Dao race. Let us feast and drink together in harmony!” The Emperor offered a thin smile, his eyes briefly flicking over Wang Lin, a flicker of displeasure and veiled threat hidden beneath a mask of geniality. He inclined his head toward Wang Lin with a feigned warmth, as if holding him in high esteem.

“It gladdens my heart to see representatives from other realms grace our halls. I shall keep my words brief. Let us raise our cups in toast, to the glory of the Ancient Dao and the prosperity of our allies!” The Emperor raised his hand, and a spectral servant materialized, offering him a goblet of wine.

Simultaneously, throughout the square and upon the platforms, all present reached for the goblets upon their tables, raising them with respectful deference.

Wang Lin sighed inwardly, taking up his own cup. He planned to offer his master’s gift and depart as quickly as possible after this single drink. The turmoil within him painted his face with a subtle pallor.

The Emperor sipped from his cup, and a chorus of cheers and felicitations erupted from the thousands gathered. Wang Lin merely touched the rim of his goblet to his lips, placing it back on the table along with the others, about to speak when…

“On this auspicious day for the Ancient Dao, I have another announcement to make! An announcement of which some may have already heard whispers. Xuan Luo, Grand Empyrean’s disciple, the White-Haired Sky Sovereign of the Immortals, Wang Lin, shall henceforth be the Protector of the Ancient Dao!”

The Emperor paused, smiling widely. “Wang Lin, step forward and receive your decree!”

Wang Lin moved a few paces, halting just outside the entrance to the hall, offering another bow.

“Do you refuse to kneel?” the Emperor’s voice hardened, his gaze fixed upon Wang Lin, devoid of warmth. He spoke no further, simply waiting.

A palpable tension gripped the square, as the eyes of the assembled guests turned upon Wang Lin, discerning the undercurrent of conflict.

Among those gazes, one belonged to Prince Jidu, who fought to suppress his elation. This was the day he had been waiting for, the day Wang Lin defied the Dao.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” Wang Lin said, his patience wearing thin, “I offer my Master’s gift in his stead, but urgent matters call me away.” His gaze, icy and unwavering, met the Emperor’s. For reasons he could not comprehend, the Emperor’s presence sparked an inexplicable surge of murderous intent and visceral aversion.

With a flick of his sleeve, Wang Lin summoned the ornate box gifted to him by Xuan Luo, sending it gliding forward. A spectral figure intercepted it and presented it to the Emperor with due reverence.

“Wang Lin, I bestow upon you the title of Royal Protector of the Ancient Dao! If pressing matters compel your departure, then so be it. I expect your presence at tomorrow’s grand ceremony.” The Emperor gave Wang Lin a penetrating look, his expression conveying an unsettling indifference. He turned his gaze away, dismissing Wang Lin as if he were of no consequence.

“Let the Empress be brought forth!” the Emperor announced, his voice resonant.

The inner turmoil within Wang Lin intensified. He turned to leave, preparing to transform into a streak of celestial light, when a sound like the tinkling of silver bells on a silken cord reached his ears. An inexplicable sensation washed over him, as if the storm within his soul had abruptly ceased.

Wang Lin froze, turning back to face the hall. He beheld a woman clad in a Phoenix robe, walking towards the Emperor with graceful poise.