A voice, raspy with ancient hate, crawled from the depths beneath the plaza. Instantly, the stone underfoot groaned and shattered, spider-webbing with fissures wide enough to swallow a man whole. The earth split and buckled, tearing the plaza asunder into fractured segments.

As the cracks multiplied, the very center of the plaza collapsed with a thunderous roar. The assembled Dao Ancient clansfolk recoiled in shock, some leaping into the air to escape the chasm that yawned before them.

From the abyss, a beam of violet light shot heavenward, piercing the firmament like a colossal amethyst pillar propping up the sky. As the light flared, the entire imperial palace was bathed in its eerie glow. This was no mere illumination, but the manifestation of countless interwoven enchantments, the awakening of the palace’s ancient, slumbering ward.

Slowly, a violet sarcophagus rose from the darkness, suspended within the spectral light. An aura of profound decay emanated from the coffin, mingling with the undeniable essence of the Ancient Clan. All eyes were drawn as the coffin stood upright and its lid splintered and fell away, revealing the skeletal figure within.

It was an ancient crone, barely recognizable as having once been regal. Her skin was ashen, like one resurrected from the grave. A few tattered strands of hair clung to her skull. She was clad in a faded imperial robe, her body a macabre tapestry of darkness.

Three daggers were embedded in her corpse. One pierced her brow, another her heart, and the final one her dantian.

“Hail, Holy Ancestor Empress!” A unified voice erupted from the surrounding Dao Ancient, as they bowed once more. Their voices merged, a wave of sonic force echoing through the heavens and earth.

Their reverence was akin to that shown for the phantom of the ancient progenitor, their eyes alight with a fanaticism that suggested the crone held a position of unimaginable significance.

Of all the Dao Ancient Emperors, only one had ever been granted the title of Holy.

Xuan Luo gazed upon the crone with a look of wistful contemplation, a sigh escaping his lips, his expression a mask of conflicting emotions.

“Ye Cha…”

Wang Lin remained aloft, his countenance serene. The appearance of the crone held no surprise for him. He had sensed a presence, something half-living, half-dead, lurking beneath the palace since the manifestation of the Ancient Progenitor’s phantom.

Even without that perception, he would not have been caught unawares. At the previous night’s banquet, four ancestral tables stood near the hall.

These tables were reserved for the Grand Empyrean, the Imperial Advisor, and the previous Emperor, the Dao Ancient Emperor’s father. Yet, three individuals only required three tables, and a fourth was present, showing a highly important person, not attending.

Wang Lin did not know who this person could be, but hearing Xuan Luo utter the name of Ye Cha, he recalled the histories of the Dao Ancient Emperors he had learned since coming to the Ancient Dao Sect.

Millennia ago, a woman had risen to power, the only woman ever to become Dao Ancient Emperor.

Her ascension sparked uproar, her legitimacy questioned by countless Dao Ancient clansmen. Only the declaration of the Grand Empyrean, sanctioning her rule, quelled the dissent.

This woman, a member of the Imperial Clan, led the Dao Ancient to its zenith, making it the most powerful of the three clans. After her abdication, millennia later, the Dao Ancient had declined to its weakest state.

For her service to the Dao Ancient, for leading it to power, she was granted the title of Holy Emperor by subsequent Emperors.

The descendants of the Dao Ancient revered her as the Holy Ancestor Empress!

Her name was Ye Cha. As the name resonated in his mind, Wang Lin saw her history he had learned.

Furthermore, Wang Lin also knew from the jade tablet that chronicled the Dao Ancient Emperors that his master, Xuan Luo, had become the Grand Empyrean during her time.

All of these thoughts raced through Wang Lin’s mind. His gaze hardened as he beheld the skeletal crone rising from the violet sarcophagus.

Song Zhi, his soul entwined with Li Muwan’s shattered essence, cowered in his arms, her fear palpable at the sight of the horror before them. Wang Lin tightened his embrace, offering her solace.

“Surrender the Immortal Ancestor’s Skull and the Immortal Emperor’s Soul, and I may grant you absolution! Otherwise, even if you can wield the Ancient Progenitor’s power, can manifest his form, do you truly believe you can trespass within the Dao Ancient Palace with impunity?” The crone rasped, her voice like the grinding of bones. The aura of death emanating from her intensified with each word.

“My cultivation may not surpass yours, but this is the Dao Ancient Palace. Here reside ten thousand formations, laid down by the Ancient Progenitor himself. The Emperors of old could only command two or three tenths of their power, but I, merged with these formations, am immortal within these walls. I can command up to seven tenths of their power!” The crone hissed at Wang Lin.

Wang Lin’s expression remained impassive, but the coldness in his eyes intensified.

“If you desire what is mine, you are welcome to try.” Wang Lin spoke slowly, the Grand Empyrean Yang swirling behind him. Wang Lin’s hair danced, the colors black and white surrounding him. Beneath the Grand Empyrean Yang, a Dao Ancient phantom materialized, mirroring Wang Lin’s own visage.

The Dao Ancient phantom seemed to carry the Grand Empyrean Yang on its shoulders, looking at the crone with an indifferent gaze.

The Ancient Progenitor’s phantom required the burning of his soul blood, and it had been used once, only to reappear. Now, the soul blood was scattered, and would require some time to gather before it could be burned again.

The crone’s dim eyes flickered. Her withered, skeletal hand rose, poised to grasp at the air, when a sigh escaped Xuan Luo’s lips.

The sigh reached the crone, her hand trembled.

“Ye Cha… she is my disciple.”
Xuan Luo gazed upon the ancient crone with a complexity of emotions, a flicker of tenderness softening his stern eyes. Before him, the aged woman seemed not withered or grotesque, but radiant as the fair maiden he remembered from ages past.

“He was once your disciple,” the crone rasped, breaking the silence. Her own dim eyes held a mirroring complexity as she fixed her gaze upon Xuan Luo. “I know you favored Ye Dao among his peers. In his youth, he inadvertently stumbled upon your secluded sanctuary, and you sensed a kinship between your soul and the child’s…”

“Though I held no great hope for the boy, for he was arrogant and brook no dissent,” Xuan Luo countered, his voice heavy with regret. “I never desired to anoint him Emperor. Yet, he bore within him a trace of your essence, and so I acquiesced.”

“But today, he drove my disciple to such a precipice, severing the bond between Master and student, banishing him forever from the lineage of Dao-Gu. Do you deem his actions just? As Emperor, should he behave thus? And do you truly believe this grand formation can imprison Wang Lin?!” As he uttered the final words, a roar escaped Xuan Luo’s throat. Anguish twisted his features, a pain that intensified with each glance he cast upon Wang Lin.

He would forever be haunted by that tearful smile, the bow that followed, the kneeling supplication, and the palm strike that shattered the bond of mentorship. He knew then that the sacred connection between Master and disciple, forged in years of tutelage, had dissolved with Wang Lin’s crumbling resolve, vanished like smoke in the wind.

The crone fell silent, her response a rasping whisper after a long pause.

“Ye Dao deserves death, it is true. Yet, as Emperor, he cannot be slain without due cause. If Wang Lin does not surrender the Celestial Ancestor’s skull and the Celestial Emperor’s soul, I shall unleash a war! Furthermore, I believe this formation will hold!”

At those words, Wang Lin laughed, his eyes gleaming with a chilling light. With a swift movement, he invoked the Eight Extremes of the Celestial Ancestor, unleashing their power in a roaring display.

Wisps of emerald smoke materialized – the Dao of Extreme Fire! Ripples of azure water surged forth – the Dao of Extreme Water! Threads of golden vapor shimmered into existence – the Dao of Extreme Metal!

Six of the Celestial Ancestor’s Eight Extremes, mastered during his trial within the Celestial Reverie, now danced at Wang Lin’s command. Wood and Earth intertwined with Water, Fire, and Metal, completing the quintessence of the Five Elements. And the sixth Dao, the Dao of Death giving birth to Life, pulsed with raw power.

Though he lacked true inheritance for the seventh Extreme and the ultimate Extreme of the Celestial Dome, Wang Lin could sense their potential, their swirling energies within him. Given time, he knew he could master them.

As the Celestial Ancestor’s power manifested, Wang Lin raised his right hand, his index finger suddenly wreathed in shimmering silver light – the Art of the Ancient Ancestor’s Single Finger, fully coalesced.

The crone’s pupils constricted at this display. She had believed that even a Great Celestial would only possess a thirty percent chance of survival against the formation’s crushing power. She had expected Wang Lin to face near-certain death.

Now, however, she wavered. She stared at the six Extremes swirling around Wang Lin, sensing the terrifying destructive force they contained. And the Art of the Ancient Ancestor’s Single Finger… She had dared not reveal herself earlier, yet even then, she felt its potency. She had believed it to be a one-time attack, a manifestation of the Ancient Ancestor’s jade slip. But now, she realized that Wang Lin could command it at will.

As she hesitated, Wang Lin smirked. His hair, once streaked with gray, began to darken, slowly shifting towards a complete obsidian black. An aura of unimaginable, world-rending slaughter emanated from his very being.

The crone’s expression twisted in alarm.

“Ye Wei… I swore in my youth to protect you for all time… to safeguard the lineage of Dao-Gu for eternity… I am weary…” Xuan Luo’s voice was weak, his face etched with age. “Let him pass. You are no match for him. This formation cannot hold him. I do this to save you…” Even as his body aged, the love in Xuan Luo’s eyes, a love that had endured for tens of thousands of years, remained unchanged as he looked upon the ancient crone.

After a long silence, the crone raised her right hand and with a wave, banished the violet grand formation that shrouded the palace.

Wang Lin cast a brief glance at Xuan Luo, a sigh escaping his lips. In the instant the formation dissolved, he, along with Song Zhi, now one with Li Muwan’s lingering spirit, shot towards the heavens, seeking escape. But as he reached a certain point in the sky, he paused, a soft sound of surprise escaping him. From his vantage point, he could clearly see a large man amongst the Dao-Gu clansmen, gazing up at him with a knowing smile.

Their eyes met. Wang Lin froze.

“It’s you…”