Before the grand hall, the path leading to its maw was a crimson river of carnage. Broken bodies, numbering near a thousand, lay strewn in grotesque repose, their silent testament fueling the dread that consumed all who dared gaze upon the hall’s shadowed entrance.

As Wang Lin strode into the hall’s oppressive air, the Daoist Emperor, pale as a winter moon, recoiled, his eyes locked in a fearful stare.

“Wang Lin! If I fall, she dies! And dare you strike me down! The Ancient Dao Grand Empyrean guards me. No mortal hand can extinguish a scion of my ancient lineage!”

Wang Lin paid no heed to the Emperor’s desperate words, nor the gnarled, robed elder who stood sentinel at his side. His gaze was fixed on Song Zhi, a woman whose essence whispered of forgotten familiarity. The storm of madness in his eyes softened, replaced by a tender light. He moved towards her, drawn by the echo of a soul he had sought for millennia.

But as he advanced, wraithlike figures shimmered into being, ephemeral strands of spectral smoke that lunged at Wang Lin with ethereal claws.

He saw them not. His world held only Song Zhi, her eyes veiled in a mist of lost memories. With each stride, a thunderous boom shook the hall as unseen forces were hurled from existence. Specters, ripped from the veil of reality, materialized only to burst into crimson ruin, their forms shattering into fragments.

Scores of phantoms materialized, clawing and grasping, but none could impede his progress. They were as dust before a gale. And then, Wang Lin stood beside her, Song Zhi, whose eyes held only a nascent, confused light.

She looked up at him, her lips parted as if to speak, but the words were lost, swallowed by the mists of amnesia. She searched his face, a stranger yet somehow familiar, and in her eyes, the first sparks of recognition flickered, struggling to ignite.

“Who is he?… Who is she?… Who am I?… If I am her, then who are Aunt Chang, Dong Mei?” Her brow furrowed in torment, her hands clutched her head, her body trembling with the agony of fractured memories.

A pang of heart-rending sorrow twisted Wang Lin’s features. He raised a hand, pointing sharply behind him. A chilling shriek tore through the air as a shadowy figure, attempting to strike from the blind spot, was impaled through the skull by Wang Lin’s unseen power, collapsing into dust.

“Fear not…” he whispered. “I know not Aunt Chang, nor Dong Mei, but I know this: you are Li Muwan, the wife I have sought through countless ages!”

The name, “Li Muwan,” struck her like a thunderbolt. A sound like shattering glass echoed in her mind, as if the very foundations of her being were cracking. The name resonated within her, a forgotten truth yearning to be remembered. It was a name whispered by her soul, a name that felt, somehow, truly hers.

“Li Muwan… Li Muwan… Song Zhi… I… who am I?” Tears streamed down her face, driven by the fierce battle raging within her mind.

Behind Wang Lin, the Daoist Emperor’s eyes gleamed with venomous intent. He was poised to strike, but a chilling snort from Wang Lin stopped him cold.

The sound, a thunderclap of condensed power, ripped through the Emperor, causing him to howl in agony as blood gushed from his orifices. He staggered back, clutching his head in torment. With blinding speed, Wang Lin’s hand shot out, touching her brow. A single drop of ancient ancestral blood, fused within his own, flowed from his fingertip into her being. At that touch, her body convulsed.

Silken strands, thin and almost imperceptible, emerged from her crown, connecting her to the Daoist Emperor lurking behind.

Without hesitation, Wang Lin’s other hand rose, and with a decisive chop, he severed the ethereal cords!

As the silken strands parted, the Daoist Emperor roared in a torrent of blood, his face contorted in disbelief and fear.

“Impossible! The Violet Seal cannot be broken so easily! It is a secret of our lineage, dissolvable only by a Grand Empyrean! Arise—!” The Emperor screamed, but dared not approach Wang Lin, retreating further into the shadows.

Ignoring the Emperor’s ranting, Wang Lin turned to the woman writhing in agony before him. Gently, he caressed her hair.

“Fear not,” he whispered, echoing words spoken ages ago. “I will take you… to kill.”

The moment those words echoed through the hall, and within her heart, her trembling ceased. The internal struggle intensified, a thousandfold more potent than even the recognition of “Li Muwan.”

The words were more than her name; they were the foundation of a love millennia in the making.

A tempest raged within her mind as the phrase reverberated through the ruins of her memories. She had dreamt of those words, heard them whispered in the depths of her soul, searching for the speaker, but always failing to grasp the truth.

The familiarity had stirred during the night banquet, when she heard Wang Lin murmur “Muwan”. The name had triggered a powerful resonance, but eluded her grasp. Even “Li Muwan” had sparked only a tremor of recognition. Yet, now, hearing “I will take you… to kill”, the dream became reality. The words from her forgotten past were no longer whispers, but a clarion call, echoing the voice of the man before her.

She recalled the mists of the Demon Spirit Land, and a cavern where she had stood guard with a pale face, protecting something precious.

She remembered a figure meditating behind her, consuming the power of pills, on the precipice of Core Formation!

And she remembered the moment her strength had failed, the horde of demonic cultivators closing in, their snarling faces a prelude to death. She had fallen back into warm embrace, and in her ear, she heard a chillingly calm voice speak words that warmed her soul for the first time in her life:

“Fear not… I will take you… to kill!”
Her form trembled, tears streaming down her face. The mists of confusion that clouded her eyes began to dissipate, replaced by a dawning recognition as she gazed upon Wang Lin, a face becoming ever more familiar.

“Wang… L…in…” Her voice, raspy as if long unused, echoed through the hall, each syllable sending tremors through Wang Lin’s very soul, like the thunder of a thousand storms crashing within his mind.

Overwhelmed with elation, Wang Lin roared with laughter that shook the rafters. He swept her into his arms, then turned his gaze, filled with a murderous rage, upon the ashen-faced and terrified Emperor and his son, the Daoist Emperor. Though shaken, the Daoist Emperor held a sliver of composure deep within his eyes.

As their gazes met, the Daoist Emperor saw the chilling intent in Wang Lin’s eyes and his heart plunged.

“I am the Daoist Emperor! I am protected by the Grand Empyrean of the Ancient Dao! You cannot slay me!” The Daoist Emperor stumbled backward. But Wang Lin’s killing intent burned with celestial fire. With Li Muwan cradled in his arms, he blurred forward, a phantom of vengeful wrath, directly towards the Daoist Emperor.

In a heartbeat, Wang Lin stood before him, eyes blazing with murderous intent. He raised his right hand, a palm strike aimed directly at the Daoist Emperor.

“Grand Empyrean of the Ancient Dao, save me!” the Daoist Emperor shrieked, his voice cracking with fear.

But as Wang Lin’s palm descended, a blinding flash of violet light erupted around the Daoist Emperor, deflecting the attack with a resounding boom.

Seeing the violet aura, the Daoist Emperor threw back his head and roared with triumphant laughter. The terror in his eyes vanished, replaced by an arrogant certainty. He turned his snarling face towards Wang Lin.

“I am the Daoist Emperor, a direct descendant of the Ancient Ancestor! I am protected by the Grand Empyrean of the Ancient Dao! How can you hope to kill me? No one in this realm can harm me!” With a dramatic flourish of his sleeve, the Daoist Emperor bellowed towards the courtyard beyond the hall.

“All warriors of the Daoist Clan, annihilate this man! Disobedience will be met with the punishment of a traitor!” His words echoed across the palace grounds, reaching the tens of thousands of clansmen already gathered, and the scores more arriving. They turned as one to stare at the hall, their forms like a dark cloud descending upon the scene.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed, his killing intent reaching a fever pitch. He raised his right hand again, pointing a finger at the Daoist Emperor. Once more, the violet light flared around him, deflecting Wang Lin’s magic with another earth-shattering boom.

This only fueled the Daoist Emperor’s mad laughter. He stood defiant, his eyes locked on Wang Lin’s, a venomous smirk twisting his lips.

“Why would you think you could kill me, Wang Lin? You are nothing but an insect from the Cave World! My Daoist Clan numbers in the tens of thousands, and they are descending upon you! I will see to it that you die a painful death, and after I have sated myself upon this woman, she will be buried alongside you!” The Daoist Emperor’s laughter echoed through the courtyard.

“So, I cannot kill you?” Wang Lin whispered, his hair swirling around his head as if caught in an invisible gale. Behind him, the sun of his Grand Empyrean Soul manifested, bathing the courtyard in black and white radiance. Within his body, the Soul Blood coursed, surging with power, resonating and becoming manifest throughout his being. A mournful wind echoed from the heavens, the very sound of the wind-song of the firmament.

Thunder cracked, the very voice of Celestial Judgment.

The clouds followed, dancing to the tune of thunder, giving birth to the music of the mortal world, born of the cloud flute.

Rain poured, shaping all of the natural world, sounding out the song of nourishing rain. The very sounds of Heaven and Earth, interwoven within the nine movements of the Ancient Ancestor’s song, now swirled within Wang Lin, his very being now the seventh movement of his divine music.

The eighth movement reverberated from his very organs. This indescribable melody, a symphony beyond words, echoed through the heavens and earth of the Daoist Imperial Palace.

“Within this cosmos, besides the Grand Empyrean of the Ancient Dao, there is one other who has the power to end you… the Ancient Ancestor himself!” Wang Lin intoned, his voice low and resonant. As the words left his lips, the drop of Soul Blood within his core unleashed the final movement of the nine-part song!

This final movement was the song of blood, and at the very moment it became manifest, Wang Lin’s eyes turned to pure, molten silver. The silver light blazed with an ancient power, an absolute and unyielding dominance.

Behind Wang Lin, towering above the Imperial Palace, a gigantic phantom materialized in the heavens. This ethereal figure stood with his hands clasped behind his back, long hair streaming around him, gazing skyward with an expression of utter contempt. The very image of the towering statue in the heart of Sky City: The Ancient Ancestor himself!

“The… Ancient Ancestor!” On the courtyard, in the palace, throughout the entire Daoist Imperial City, every single member of the Ancient Bloodlines who witnessed the spectacle froze, their faces contorted in awe, fear, and profound reverence.

“We, your descendants, bow before the Ancient Ancestor!” Some unknown figure was the first to kneel, and in an instant, the entire courtyard, the palace, and the scores of thousands of clansmen bowed in unison, their heads to the ground, as one.