Within the ancient Daoist Imperial Palace, Wang Lin strode towards the grand hall. Though surrounded by thousands, the mournful sigh of his master, Xuan Luo, echoed from the heavens, reaching his ears. But just moments before, far beyond the ancient city, within a desolate, barren peak, a far more curious scene unfolded.

The mountain’s heart had been completely hollowed, yet no sign betrayed this secret, not even to the divine sense of a Great Celestial. Within this empty mountain, a vast array pulsed with arcane energies, its complexity so profound it induced a dizzying illusion upon observation.

The array emitted a white, flickering light, imbued with an unsettling aura. At its very center, a hazy figure sat in meditative repose. This being shimmered with a rainbow of colors, hands moving in constant, silent incantations, gestures that imprinted upon the array.

As the multicolored sigils continued to fall, a spectral image materialized above the massive array—a miniature reflection of the entire Daoist Imperial Palace.

This shrunken palace shimmered within the array, filled with countless motes of black and white light. The black specks, numbering in the tens of thousands, paled in comparison to the white, which dominated the palace replica and seemed to multiply.

Most notably, between the grand hall and the palace square, a dense throng of nearly a thousand white motes clustered around a single, unique crimson speck. This speck radiated a bloody aura and remained motionless.

“Black represents the spirits of the dead, white the essence of the living… and this crimson… it is Wang Lin… Wang Lin, our paths cross once more!” The hazy figure, wreathed in rainbow light, spoke with a light chuckle, its voice hoarse.

“The Grand One tore out his… remnants of his soul, gifting them to this Daoist Emperor. As planned, the Emperor seeks a suitable vessel to house the soul, intending to crown him as successor…

And you, as I foresaw, have come to the Daoist Imperial Palace… Kill, mortal, kill! The more you slay, the greater the benefit to the Grand One!” The multicolored figure seemed to smile, but as it spoke of “remnants of his soul,” its voice trembled almost imperceptibly, recovering quickly. It raised its right hand, and a blinding white light erupted. As the right hand lifted, a black aura materialized. The emergence of these two lights transformed the figure’s rainbow colors into nine distinct hues!

Simultaneously, a wisp of gray mist manifested, swirling around the nine-colored being, merging with the light and transforming it into a ten-hued spectacle!!

“The Gray Essence, gathered from the Realm of Tears, grows ever stronger…” the hazy figure murmured, its voice cold and indistinct.

This Gray Essence was, in fact, the very shadow that Xuan Luo had failed to detect when Wang Lin departed the Realm of Tears!

“Alas, I am… bound by certain restrictions, only able to draw the death energy born from Wang Lin’s own killings. Otherwise, the Grand One could, in short order, gather the necessary amount and…” The figure paused twice, as if even the words themselves were too dangerous to utter fully, its voice hesitant to reveal the nature of its limitations or the purpose of its ultimate goal.

“Wang Lin’s killings within the Realm of Tears pleased me greatly. But since his arrival on the Immortal Astral Continent, he has slain far too few within the Immortal Clan. If only this were not the case, the Grand One would have achieved his objective much sooner and would not require the contingency plan involving the Daoist lineage… Fortunately, I was sufficiently prepared and retrieved her… the remnants of her soul.” Again, the figure’s voice trembled as it uttered the word “her,” then fell silent.

After a long pause, the figure’s eyes glinted with a chilling light.

“Now that I have chosen this path, there is no turning back. I shall cast aside fear, even if it means losing my mind. For once the Grand One succeeds…” The hazy figure began to tremble with excitement.

“The Grand One has prepared for so many years; failure is not an option! Consume the dead spirits of this palace!” With that, the hazy figure raised its right hand abruptly and, with a sweeping gesture, touched the miniature Imperial Palace shimmering above the massive array on the ground.

As the hand descended, all the black motes within the miniature palace quivered and seemed to dim, as if on the verge of being consumed by the array. But in a fleeting moment, an unknown force surged around the weakened black motes, abruptly bolstering them. The fading motes solidified instantly as they resisted the array’s power.

“They…” The ten-hued figure gasped, its expression shifting with alarm.

At that very instant, within the Daoist Imperial City, above the palace square, as the mournful sigh echoed from the heavens, Wang Lin stopped in his tracks. He seemed to have forgotten the danger surrounding him, forgotten the Thirty-Six Fiends rushing towards him, forgotten the Daoist Emperor within the grand hall, mere thousands of feet away.

The crimson light in Wang Lin’s eyes began to fade. The madness and savagery that had gripped his face slowly dissipated, replaced by a bitter resignation as he turned to face the familiar figure descending from the heavens.

He knew his master would come. He knew his master would try to stop him. That was why, upon entering the Daoist Imperial Palace, he had offered no explanations. He had sought only to slay the Daoist Emperor as quickly as possible, before Xuan Luo could arrive, and retrieve Li Muwan.

The Daoist Emperor’s intentions and actions had been laid bare to Wang Lin within the deductions from the Karmic Fire left by the Old Ancestor of the Great Soul Sect. He had even overheard the Daoist Emperor’s muttered soliloquies before his bed.

Coupled with his own observations from his first visit to the palace—Song Zhi being asked to offer him wine—the Daoist Emperor could hardly have failed to notice Wang Lin’s unnatural behavior. His actions were simply the indulgence of a twisted mind reveling in the power to control a pair of bonded cultivators.

Thus, Wang Lin had unleashed that earth-shattering roar. He would kill Ye Dao! He would kill the Daoist Emperor!

He had considered concealing his rage, calmly re-entering the palace, and taking Song Zhi away. But could a dragon scale still be called a dragon scale if one could tolerate its violation!
To boil flesh before the very eyes of the Three Clans, while denying the Celestial Sovereign his intervention… such an act, though seemingly righteous, would have been a transgression tenfold more grievous! It would be assassination! In his station, an eruption of rage could have seen him storming the palace itself, deemed a fury consuming reason.

But to creep in shadow, to plot murder with cold deliberation, spoke of a chilling stillness in his mind. To commit such a deed with icy intent would inflict a wound upon the Xuan Luo that could never heal. Wang Lin understood this intricate consequence, and thus, he would never tread such a path.

No, Wang Lin would not choose this shadowed way. He would reclaim the fragmented soul of Wan’er, he would challenge the Dao Ancient Sovereign, and he would walk forward in righteous defiance. His only consideration now was the burden his actions would place upon his revered Master…

“Master…” Wang Lin clenched his fists, offering a profound bow towards the figure descending from the heavens. He remained kneeling, unmoving, even as the thirty-six demonic stars seized the opportunity, their murderous intent driving them forward with terrifying speed, poised to strike him down.

From the sky, the Xuan Luo descended, his face etched with a sudden, profound age. He raised his right hand, and with a dismissive wave towards the earth below, unleashed a power that sent the thirty-six stars reeling, spitting blood, their assault utterly broken. Beyond them, every member of the Dao Ancient Clan surrounding Wang Lin was swept away by a gale of raw force, driven back, leaving him kneeling alone within a thousand yards of desolate ground.

“Celestial Venerable, Wang Lin has invaded the palace, seeking to usurp the Emperor’s Consort! His insolence knows no bounds, unworthy of being your disciple! We beseech you, oh Xuan…” The Dao Ancient Sovereign, seeing Xuan Luo’s arrival, felt a flicker of cold triumph and stepped forward to pronounce his accusations.

But before the words could fully escape his lips, Xuan Luo whirled upon him.

“BEGONE!”

The Dao Ancient Sovereign recoiled, coughing blood, stumbling backward in utter disbelief. He stared at the crimson stain upon his hand, his eyes wide with shock. How dared Xuan Luo strike him down!

He prepared to unleash a torrent of outrage, but the killing glint in Xuan Luo’s eyes, the barely concealed fury radiating from him, stifled his words. He swallowed his defiance, his face darkening with rage, yet he dared not speak.

“Xuan Luo Great Celestial Venerable…” The Emperor’s father, the elder who had lost his arm, offered a weary sigh and bowed towards the figure in the heavens.

“This youth shows blatant disrespect for the Imperial Throne, but we know that you, Xuan Luo Great Celestial Venerable, as the guardian of the Dao Ancient lineage, will deliver just retribution. After all, this man has slaughtered tens of thousands of our Dao Ancient warriors, leaving our clan weakened and wounded! Such transgressions cannot be forgiven!” The elder was far more cunning than the reigning Sovereign, focusing the gravity of the situation on the sheer scale of Wang Lin’s slaughter.

Xuan Luo remained silent, his gaze fixed upon Wang Lin, his eyes filled with a lamenting sorrow, a deep regret, and a profound bewilderment. He seemed to age before their very eyes as he stared at his kneeling disciple, his lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.

“Why…” At last, in the eerie stillness of the Imperial Palace, Xuan Luo drew a ragged breath and spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

Wang Lin sighed deeply, lifting his head to meet Xuan Luo’s troubled gaze. The depth of his Master’s affection was a weight he could barely bear. He yearned not to disappoint him.

“Master… be at peace.” Wang Lin raised his right hand and struck himself fiercely upon the chest, expelling a torrent of blood. He waved his hand across the crimson pool, scattering it to mingle with the bloodstains upon the plaza. A blinding crimson light erupted, and within its radiant glow, the countless drops of blood danced and swirled, coalescing, drawn by Wang Lin’s own blood, forming bodies out of thin air.

Each and every one was a soul Wang Lin had claimed.

Years ago, with only the cultivation of a simple cultivator, he could, with a few drops of blood, conjure forth the Ancient Gods, Ancient Demons, and Ancient Immortals of the Cave World. Now, infused with the blood of an Ancient Ancestor, and with the inherited secrets revealed through its power, he could accomplish feats far exceeding even the most powerful of those early arts.

One by one, bodies took form, tens of thousands strong. As the last of them solidified, the blood vanished from the ground. Wang Lin, his face pale and strained, stretched forth his arms and, with a defiant gesture, released tens of thousands of souls, each merging with its corresponding body.

He had indeed slain tens of thousands, but he had only destroyed their physical forms. Their souls he had meticulously preserved, though his mastery was such that none present could perceive this hidden act.

Xuan Luo was his Master. How could he ever inflict such a devastating wound upon his heart?