Within the gilded walls of the Dao-Ancient Imperial City, a tempest raged. Wang Lin, a disciple of the Xuan Luo, had dared to breach the sacred palace, a debt of honor etched upon his soul. Before a thousand watchful eyes, he struck down the Dao-Ancient Emperor himself. Even the venerable Sage Emperor Ancestor, Ye Wei, could not stay the hand of fate, nor prevent Wang Lin’s departure.

These events, whispered on the winds by departing members of the other tribes, spread like wildfire across the Ancient Lands. All who possessed the right to know spoke of naught else.

Though a monumental event in its own right, the deed was soon eclipsed by tidings of even greater import: the premature awakening of the Primordial God Realm, a revelation that sent tremors of anticipation through the Ancient Tribes and the entire Immortal Astral Continent.

The Azure Sea that once divided the Ancient Tribes and the Immortals had been rent asunder, replaced by a colossal chasm, its depths unfathomable, exhaling the fetid stench of decay. At its very heart, the once churning ocean, now turned upright, echoed with thunderous roars.

Within this swirling vortex of water, a gateway shimmered, formed of nine colossal pillars that pierced the heavens. The sight drew the gaze of countless powerful beings across the Immortal Astral Continent, their curiosity piqued. Yet, upon close inspection, one by one, they departed in solemn silence.

Even the Immortal Emperor himself ventured forth, but the tempestuous waters defied his passage. His divine power was not enough to pierce the storm, nor to reach the enigmatic gate. With the aid of his celestial Sea Compass, he divined that the Primordial God Realm would not fully open for nearly five centuries.

And when it did, it would be an opening unlike any seen before – a complete unveiling of its mysteries.

Dao Yi, Wu Feng, and several Grand Empyreans, including Xuan Luo, arrived from the Ancient Lands, each pausing at the edge of the watery maelstrom, observing for a time before retreating into the shadows.

But a message from the Ancient Dao Mountain descended, reaching the ears of the Grand Empyreans and the royal family of the Three Veins of the Ancient Tribes. The missive was simple: cease all observation of the Primordial God Realm. In five hundred years, it would open. The Three Royal Clans and their Grand Empyreans were to prepare for war during that time.

The Ancient Dao Mountain offered no comment regarding the death of the Dao-Ancient Emperor. This strange oversight silenced those among the Dao-Ancient Tribe who clamored for vengeance against Wang Lin, those who begged the Ancient Dao Grand Empyrean to intervene. They spoke no more.

A similar decree echoed across the Immortal Lands. From the Ancestral City’s Imperial Mountain and the Immortal Royal Palace, a proclamation was sent forth, announcing the Primordial God Realm’s opening in five hundred years. The seventy-two provinces were ordered to pour their efforts into nurturing their strongest cultivators, especially those at the Heavenly Venerate and Transcendent Venerate levels. Hope blossomed in their hearts, for the Primordial God Realm was a gateway to untold power. Success within could elevate them to the rank of Grand Empyrean!

The Immortal Astral Continent was swept by a tide of anticipation, yet restrained by the five-century wait. Undercurrents swirled, belying the surface calm, hinting at the storm to come.

Across both the Immortal and Ancient Lands, those who believed themselves worthy of entering the Primordial God Realm felt the oppressive weight of expectation, sensed the clandestine activities of each province, and knew that, when the gate finally opened, a grand convergence of destinies would unfold.

And such a gathering might reignite the flames of war that had long slumbered on the Immortal Astral Continent, a conflict that could rage for an eternity.

The Ancient Tribes prepared themselves… and so too did the Immortals.

Five hundred years… a blink of an eye for the powerful, an age for mortals and the lesser cultivators of the three races.

Even as the seeds of war sprouted upon the Immortal Astral Continent, a county bordering the Shi-Ancient region, within the Dao-Ancient’s Twelve Counties, was shrouded in relentless rain. A persistent drizzle, typical of the season, created a veil that seemed to stretch on forever.

Within the downpour, the cities of the Dao-Ancient stood in their familiar splendor, while the surrounding lands lay in tranquil slumber. Rain pattered on leaves, collected in trickling streams.

Beneath a hazy sky, a lone figure stood upon a low-lying mountain, a white-robed youth beneath an oiled-paper umbrella. Beside him stood a woman, her beauty striking, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

“These… are these the stories between you and the fragment of soul within me, the one called Wan’er?” she murmured, turning from the rain-swept landscape to face the man.

This man had stormed the Dao-Ancient Imperial Palace, slain the Dao-Ancient Emperor, and walked away unscathed, carrying her with him.

She knew not their destination, but his tenderness and care had warmed a place deep within her soul.

Along their journey, he had shared a tale, a saga of chance encounters and a fateful invitation: “I’ll take you to kill.”

It was a story that culminated in a promise etched in defiance: “If the heavens demand your death, I will steal you back!” Leaving behind thousands of years of longing and sorrow.

Wang Lin met her gaze, a gentle light flickering in his eyes.

She fell silent, understanding that the affection he showed was not for her alone, but for the sliver of soul residing within. She turned her gaze back to the rain-swept world, and after a long while, she asked.

“Where are we going?”

“To where we first met,” Wang Lin replied, embracing Song Zhi, who was intertwined with Li Muwan’s remnant soul, and strode into the rain, toward the horizon.

He did not hurry, mindful of Song Zhi’s frail form and the fragile soul within. The journey had already taken nearly a year since the day he slew the Dao-Ancient Emperor.
The year passed, and Wang Lin encountered no pursuit from the ancient mountain of Dao. The Dao-Ancient lineage remained silent on the matter. In the ensuing peace, Wang Lin walked with the woman, gradually reaching the edge of the Dao-Ancient lands.

Beyond lay the domain of the Shi-Ancient.

“The place of our first meeting… was it not the Black Stone City?” The woman nestled in Wang Lin’s arms, her dark hair tossed by the wind, a few strands brushing against Wang Lin’s face, mingling with his white.

Wang Lin remained silent, guiding her onwards, disappearing into the rain.

Months later, Wang Lin and this Song Zhi emerged from the Dao-Ancient domain, stepping onto the lands of the Shi-Ancient. Upon their return, Song Zhi’s spirits seemed to lift. She gazed upon the sights of the Shi-Ancient, and a sense of familiarity stirred within her.

Yet, her words grew fewer. When facing Wang Lin, she was often silent, her heart heavy with turmoil. For over a year, he would occasionally send a warmth into her body. She knew not its nature, but sensed that within her, the merging souls slowly began to separate.

“He is severing the presence of the maiden called Wan’er from my being… perhaps when the soul is fully purged, I shall cease to be… Yet, to see my home once more, to see Aunt Chang and Winter Plum before my end… it is enough.” A bitter resignation filled Song Zhi, and her silence deepened.

She was afraid, yet helpless.

Wang Lin saw it all. He offered no explanations. Black Stone City drew nearer with each passing day.

More months drifted by.

“Shall we reach Black Stone City by the morrow?” As dusk crept over the sky, extinguishing the sun’s last embers, Song Zhi gazed into the distance from atop a desolate hill and softly addressed the man beside her.

Wang Lin had told her that on the following day, she would return to Black Stone City, her home.

Wang Lin nodded.

Song Zhi fell silent for a time, then a gentle smile bloomed upon her face. With a sigh, she turned to Wang Lin, studying the man who had kept her company for over a year. She saw in his youthful features, the deep lines of a life lived.

“I am… happy. I hope you and she find happiness for all time.”

The next day, at midday, the Black Stone City became visible in the distance, its walls constructed of gigantic black stones. The sight filled Song Zhi with the warmth of home.

“Would you… allow me to touch your face?” Less than a league from the city gates, Wang Lin halted. Song Zhi looked at him, her voice barely a whisper.

Wang Lin gazed upon the woman before him for a long moment, then gave a slow nod.

Song Zhi smiled, and a delicate flush rose upon her cheeks. She raised her hands and gently caressed Wang Lin’s plain face. After a long pause, she rested her head against his chest, as if to hear the beating of his heart.

The rhythmic thumping lulled her into closing her eyes.

Wang Lin lowered his gaze, his right hand rising to stroke her dark hair. A subtle fragrance drifted up to him. The two remained in that embrace as time slipped away.

As the sun cast its final crimson rays across the land, Song Zhi raised her head, drawing back from Wang Lin’s embrace.

“If I die, please…”

“You shall not die.” Wang Lin said with a calm certainty. With that, he reached out and touched the woman’s brow. Song Zhi’s vision blurred. She slowly fell to the ground as though overcome by sleep.

Half an hour passed. When she awoke, confusion filled her eyes. She looked around, silent, then pressed her hand to her head, her brow furrowed. After a long moment, memory seemed to return.

The sun had almost set, and darkness gathered around them. Song Zhi stood, her gaze instantly drawn to a jade pendant around her neck, radiating warmth.

She could feel it, the lingering soul of Wan’er was gone. She was Song Zhi, untouched by harm. Only a strange melancholy filled her heart. She looked with a complex expression at the empty landscape, then turned and walked towards Black Stone City in the distance.

It was her home.