A hush fell over the grand hall as tens of thousands materialized, an impossible sight that widened the eyes of the thousand ancient clansmen standing guard outside. Even the Daoist Emperor, a figure of formidable power, faltered, his brow furrowing with dark suspicion.

His father, the one-armed elder, gasped, for he had perceived no hint of such magic. Now, his gaze upon Wang Lin was heavy with a newfound dread.

As the souls, sprung forth from Wang Lin’s very being, rejoined their former vessels, ten thousand pairs of eyes flickered open. A moment of disoriented confusion clouded their faces, then vanished as true consciousness dawned.

A chorus of cries echoed through the hall, each reborn soul realizing they should have met their end. Yet, here they stood, as if awakened from a haunting dream, returned to life.

Their power, alas, was not what it had been in life. The mystical art, though potent, could not fully restore the ancient essence to so many. Still, the ichor of Wang Lin’s soul coursed within them. Though weakened, their ancient strength would return with decades of diligent training.

Such sorcery, only achievable by one bearing the Soul Blood, bordered on the divine, akin to the feats of the ancient ancestors themselves. Silence followed their exclamations of wonder, each gaze fixed upon Wang Lin, filled with a tangled web of emotions.

Amongst them were the nine warriors loyal to Xuan Luo, their hearts filled with a profound sense of relief. Their souls had once resided within Wang Lin’s grasp, and they understood now that their rebirth was a gift from him.

Wang Lin’s face was ashen. The Soul Blood granted him unimaginable power, but wielding it in such a grand display had taken a heavy toll. Yet, for Xuan Luo’s sake, he had braced himself for this sacrifice before storming the palace.

Whether he succeeded or failed, he had resolved to claim the souls of those he felled, resurrecting them for Xuan Luo’s benefit.

Faced with this impossible spectacle, Xuan Luo was deeply moved. His keen perception revealed the source of Wang Lin’s power: the very essence of the Soul Blood coursing within him.

“Three drops of Soul Blood… enough to raise a single clan to greatness…” The ancient whispers, passed down through generations of the ancient tribes, suddenly rang true in Xuan Luo’s heart.

“Master… your disciple has not truly slain a single Daoist tribesman…” Wang Lin spoke, his voice a mere whisper, his pale face conveying a near-fatal weakness.

“He may not have taken lives,” the Daoist Emperor snarled, “but he has drained the strength of my warriors and desecrated the sanctity of the palace! This shall be known to the ancient and extreme tribes, and my clan will be forever shamed. He must still die!”

“Wang Lin, tell me why.” Xuan Luo’s gaze softened. He had feared that his disciple had disregarded his feelings, causing irreparable harm and loss. It had broken his heart, filling him with despair.

He had cherished Wang Lin, his only disciple, fulfilling every role a master should. He had prepared him for his trials, challenged the Great Celestial Ancient for him, even toiled on crafting a treasure for him.

But when he had arrived at the palace, he found only carnage and the demise of his people. All of it was the work of his disciple, which left Xuan Luo shaken to the core, filled with terrible disillusionment.

But seeing Wang Lin, at great personal cost, resurrect the fallen with the strength of the Soul Blood, caused his heart to ache.

He knew that his disciple respected him, for Wang Lin must have planned this before the assault: to collect the souls in his body, enabling their resurrection.

“He considered my feelings before he acted…” A flicker of tenderness shone in Xuan Luo’s eyes. He understood his disciple’s nature and realized that a profound reason must have driven him to such madness.

Perhaps, a transgression against Wang Lin’s deepest values!

Xuan Luo had a suspicion.

“Song Zhi harbors a fragment of my wife’s soul… I must claim her…” Wang Lin replied in a steady voice, his pallid face betraying the immense cost of his actions. “The Daoist Emperor knew this, yet still refused. Therefore, I must slay him!”

“Absurd! You seek to steal my Empress? I will not allow it! And this tale of a soul fragment… ludicrous!” The Daoist Emperor’s face changed, as he loudly dismissed the claim.

“You stormed my palace without explanation! Why should I simply hand over my Empress?” He sneered, though a flicker of fear betrayed his bravado.

“Now, I have offered an explanation. I intend to take her.” Wang Lin turned, his gaze as cold as winter, and fixed upon the Daoist Emperor within the grand hall, guarded by a thousand ancient tribesmen.

“Laughable! Your words carry no weight! If I allowed you to simply abduct her, I would be the laughingstock of the realm! Besides, I could fabricate a thousand tales to counter your claim. I could say that she was my consort in a past life! What then?” The Daoist Emperor roared, refusing to yield.

He believed that Wang Lin would not dare to strike him, especially with Xuan Luo present. He saw the bond between master and disciple. He can use that.

If he did not use this opportunity, he would be a bad Emperor.

After all, he was the Daoist Emperor! Who dared to strike him, lest they face the wrath of the Great Celestial Ancient!

Confident and unfazed, the Daoist Emperor would not surrender, for he already planned to take Song Zhi’s virginity and conceive an heir, plunging Wang Lin into despair.

“If you seek to take my Empress, present proof!” The Daoist Emperor bellowed, gesturing with his sleeve.
Wang Lin stood as a statue, a tempest of killing intent raging within him, threatening to shatter its restraints. It yearned to unleash itself upon the thousand souls blocking his path to the throne room, to cleave through flesh and bone until he stood before the Dao Ancient Emperor himself.

But he could not. A pallor fought with a burgeoning flush on his cheeks as he wrestled down the murderous tide.

He gazed upon Song Zhi, sorrow etched in his eyes. Wang Lin, a being of power rivalling the Great Celestials, found himself paralyzed before these paltry emperors. The very essence of Wan’er lay within reach, yet he was chained to the spot, unable to claim her soul.

The chains were forged of loyalty. He could not bring despair to Xuan Luo, could not force his benefactor to choose. He could not inflict such grief upon the one who had shown him immeasurable kindness.

Closing his eyes, Wang Lin offered a bitter smile to the cruel irony of fate. When he opened them again, his hand rose, summoning a jade slip from the void. Focusing his divine sense upon it, he shattered it in a flash.

At that instant, the visions he had gleaned from the Grand Soul Sect Elder’s deductions, the Dao Ancient Emperor’s own murmured words in those spectral scenes, erupted forth. A wave of iridescent light engulfed the chamber, revealing the truth to all.

Within the light, images flickered, sharp and undeniable:

*”The Royal Tutor claims this fragment of a soul will allow me to become the true Emperor, uniting all three Ancient bloodlines. Therefore, I shall elevate this woman to Empress, the ultimate reward. Though she lacks beauty, she possesses a certain charm. I wonder where the Royal Tutor acquired this soul… she likely had a lover, one who mourns her loss even now…”

*”Alas, he shall never know that she is now in my grasp… it would be amusing to witness this lover. Perhaps I could catch a glimpse of him, see his face before me. If fate should ever bring them together, would he even recognize her…? This matter can wait. After the coronation, I shall savor the exquisite pleasure of that soul merging with her flesh.”*

The Dao Ancient Emperor’s voice, echoing from the shattered jade slip, hung in the air. Even upon hearing these words for the second time, Wang Lin’s grip tightened, his body trembling with renewed, yet again repressed, fury.

The revelation crashed over the assembled court. The Dao Ancient Emperor, however, betrayed no outward sign of panic, though within, a tempest of shock raged. Never had he imagined such insidious sorcery existed!

“Such a convincing illusion,” he sneered, a chilling smile playing on his lips. “Impressive, Wang Lin, that you could fabricate such a thing. But it is all a fabrication. I have never uttered those words. This talk of fragments of souls is utter nonsense!”

Wang Lin remained silent, but the killing intent within him spiralled out of control. A third wave crashed against his resolve, shaking him to his core, igniting a crimson fire in his eyes. Yet, he brutally suppressed it. Each act of suppression drew a tribute of blood from his lips.

As the Dao Ancient Emperor’s scornful laughter filled the hall, Xuan Luo above frowned, his hand rising towards Song Zhi within the throne room.

But as he reached out, a sudden flash of violet light enveloped Song Zhi, abruptly shattering Xuan Luo’s grasp. The expression on Xuan Luo’s face shifted.

“The Violet Seal Ancestral Incantation, along with the Divine Lock!” The crippled, robed elder gasped, recognizing the arcane power.

The Dao Ancient Emperor’s smile widened, turning a gaze of cold amusement between Xuan Luo and Wang Lin, his laughter growing more unrestrained.

“She is my Empress, and none shall take her from me! I have bound her with this lock, an heirloom of the Ancient Ancestor. If I die, she dies with me. A mere thought, and she cannot stray more than ten paces from me. None can break this lock, and none can take her! Her life is in my hands, Wang Lin. Do you dare to strike me down? For if I fall, she too shall perish!”

“Wang Lin, kneel before me, you dog!” the Dao Ancient Emperor roared, turning his gaze back towards Wang Lin.