Blackstone, a city unchanged by the passage of time, stood as she remembered it. She walked its cobbled streets, unchallenged by any guard, as though its lord had foreseen her coming and issued silent decrees.

But as she neared her former dwelling, two figures materialized from the shadows. An old crone with hair like spun moonlight, and a timid maid, barely a woman grown.

“Chang… Donghui… I have returned,” Song Zhi whispered, a fragile smile gracing her lips.

Beyond the city walls, Wang Lin stood where Song Zhi had departed, his gaze fixed on the ebony citadel. He withdrew his spiritual sense, a shadow of pity in his eyes. The woman was a tragic vessel, harboring within her the fragmented soul of Wan’er. This forced coexistence had twisted her memories, blurring the lines of her own identity.

He could have disregarded her frailty, her very existence, and ripped Wan’er’s essence from her, but such an act would have extinguished her life, scattering her soul to the winds.

Wang Lin, a cultivator weathered by millennia, often perceived as ruthless and cold, remained a man. He could not bear such a deed. For nearly two years, he had deliberately lingered on his journey, subtly infusing her body with his own vital energies, ensuring that the eventual separation would not shatter her spirit.

“She is innocent… yet through her, I found Wan’er. She does not deserve to suffer for it… This jade pendant holds a fragment of my soul. It will safeguard her for the rest of her days.”

“Ji Du,” Wang Lin commanded, his voice low and resonant, “ensure her well-being here. See to her protection.”

“As you command, Father!” A ripple of energy distorted the air behind Wang Lin, and Prince Ji Du materialized, kneeling with head bowed in fervent obedience.

“I have already informed the city lord, instructing him to guard Song Zhi with utmost care, preventing any harm from befalling her. I have even stationed personal guards within her residence,” Ji Du assured, knowing the weight this woman held in his adopted father’s heart.

In truth, upon his return to the Ancient Star System, Ji Du had remained in this region, believing Wang Lin would eventually appear. His patience had finally been rewarded.

Wang Lin betrayed no emotion at Ji Du’s presence. Had the prince not foreseen his arrival, he would have deemed him unworthy to contend for the throne of the Ancient Emperor.

“Let us depart,” Wang Lin said, casting one final glance at Blackstone before turning towards the horizon.

Ji Du, barely containing his excitement, hurried to follow.

“Prepare a place for me. I shall enter seclusion,” Wang Lin announced, his voice cutting through the wind.

“My palace contains a secluded chamber, Father. If it does not meet your needs, I will immediately command that a new one be built,” Ji Du replied, his voice laced with eagerness.

With a wave of his hand, Wang Lin warped the fabric of reality, transporting himself and Ji Du to the prince’s palace.

“This chamber will suffice. Let no one disturb me, on pain of death,” Wang Lin declared, selecting a suitable chamber and disappearing within.

As Wang Lin was about to enter the chamber, Ji Du hesitated, as if wanting to speak.

“If you desire to become the Ancient Emperor, then the Great Celestial Sovereign Song Tian is key. His endorsement will ease your path,” Wang Lin stated with finality, halting and turning back to look at Ji Du.

Ji Du sighed, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

“I know not why Sovereign Song holds me in such low regard. My offerings are often rejected, and even when our paths cross within the Imperial Palace, his gaze is cold. My brother, Huang Man, on the other hand, is favored. He now dwells on the Primeval Mountain, and whispers abound that Sovereign Song intends to take him as a disciple.”

“My father also favors Huang Man, making it increasingly clear that he is to be the next Emperor,” Ji Du lamented.

Wang Lin listened patiently, his expression unchanging.

“The Great Celestial Sovereigns of the clans can influence the choice of the next Emperor, but there are exceptions… I assume you have made preparations,” Wang Lin said, studying Ji Du intently.

Under Wang Lin’s penetrating gaze, Ji Du felt as though his every secret had been laid bare.

“I have prepared, and will continue to prepare. I cannot bear the thought of failing, of being relegated to a mere King with no chance of ever becoming Emperor. This is a chance I will not have again.”

“I am more intelligent and more capable than Huang Man!” Ji Du declared, kneeling.

“I beg you, Father, help me. Should I become Emperor, I will fulfill my promises without hesitation!”

“Besides your brother, there are others who stand in your way, are there not?” Wang Lin asked softly.

“There is my eldest brother… at his birth, the heavens themselves wept, and the Great Celestial Sovereign of the Ancient Path bestowed upon him a gift.”

“The position of Emperor is well within his reach!” Ji Du responded.

“Very well. I will not interfere with your preparations, but I will meet this Song Tian, and determine whether I can sway him to support you.” Wang Lin offered.

Ji Du’s heart leaped with joy, but his face betrayed little emotion.

Wang Lin glanced at Ji Du and recognized the type of personality he had. He knew how to mask his emotions, and he knew his limits.

“This matter must wait until I emerge from seclusion. Do not disturb me unless it is a matter of life or death.” Wang Lin said, and then he went inside of the chamber, closing the door and locking himself in.

Ji Du knelt for a moment longer, then rose, a smile of pure elation lighting up his face.
Prince Jidu, with a heart ablaze with ambition, paced the chamber. “With Father’s vast cultivation, perhaps Song Zun will reconsider…” he muttered, “Yet my preparations must proceed. This is a gamble, a desperate throw of the dice! But if I succeed… in two centuries, Jidu will be the Primeval Emperor!”

He inhaled deeply, striving to master his surging emotions. Stepping out, he decreed the area a forbidden sanctuary, promising swift death to any who dared trespass. A legion of guards was summoned, their vigilance unwavering, to safeguard this pivotal place.

Meanwhile, within the shrouded depths of a secluded chamber, Wang Lin surveyed his surroundings. With a deliberate flourish, he unleashed a torrent of seals, their arcane energies weaving a cage around the space. Such was Wang Lin’s mastery that even a Great Celestial, unawares, could not hope to breach the defenses he had wrought.

He settled upon the floor, his eyes gleaming with purpose. His choice to align himself with Jidu and his quest for the throne was driven by more than simply returning Song Zhi to his home. A deeper, more profound motive stirred within him.

“A single drop of soul-blood is not enough to grant Wan’er’s body entry into the Primeval God Realm…” His thoughts drifted to the ancient tomes he had pored over during his time with the Purple Sun Sect, works that whispered of the God Realm.

When the realm first came into existence, none could say. Yet, Wang Lin had gleaned from those texts that a formidable pressure permeated the very essence of the God Realm. This pressure could eclipse the turning of the heavens. Those who perished within its confines found their souls barred from the cycle of reincarnation, as if the realm itself could defy the very laws of existence.

These descriptions echoed the words of the Daoist Gu State Preceptor, which was why Wang Lin had allowed the ancient formation to be activated a year prior, unveiling the Primeval God Realm.

“Wan’er’s physical form cannot withstand the pressure within the God Realm. According to the Daoist Gu Preceptor, soul-blood can alleviate this… but one drop is clearly insufficient.”

The Preceptor had gone to elaborate lengths to open the God Realm, tempting him with the promise of Wan’er transcending reincarnation, seeking to lure him into its depths. “Whatever his true motives,” Wang Lin mused, “To convince me, to make me venture within, he must be truthful, at least concerning Wan’er.”

“Otherwise, I need not go at all!” This was the core of Wang Lin’s alliance with Jidu: to acquire more soul-blood, he had to journey to the Ancestral Temple of the Ancient Clan, to endure the final tribulation, the Third Ancient Calamity.

Only through such trials could he once more earn the Ancient Ancestor’s favor, and perhaps, as he had during the Second Calamity, be granted the precious soul-blood.

“Daoist Gu, I cannot return. And the right to open the Ancestral Temple does not rest with the Great Celestials, but with each reigning Emperor. It is a privilege of the Imperial Throne.”

“Even if Luo Chen eventually gains recognition and becomes the Daoist Gu Emperor… I have no desire to return to Daoist Gu.” Wang Lin sighed, his expression clouded with complex emotions.

“As for the Extreme Ancient lineage, I have had little contact with them since arriving amongst the Ancient Clan. Thus, Primeval Ancient seems the most suitable path, particularly as Jidu, while ambitious, dares not defy my will.”

“Five centuries… the final five centuries!” Wang Lin inhaled deeply. With a wave of his hand, a soft luminescence filled the air, revealing a crystalline coffin.

Within, Li Muwan lay still, as if in a tranquil slumber. Wang Lin gazed upon her, his features softening with tenderness. He touched his forehead, and from between his brows emerged a wisp of iridescent light.

Within the light was a hazy image, a mere echo of Li Muwan’s fragmented soul.

“Wan’er, from this moment forward, your soul shall be whole. I vow to awaken you… not just for decades, but for an eternity.” He directed the light toward Li Muwan’s brow. As it gently merged, her eyelashes fluttered as if she were on the cusp of awakening. However, she remained still.

Yet, from the corner of her eyes, two crystalline tears trickled down her cheeks.