From the Woven Sky, a cacophony arose, the very elements of earth and heavens rending flesh and bone. Then, the final cadence, a resonant hum of ancestral blood.

Thrice-blessed Golden Heaven stirred, its shadow mirroring the silver-eyed gaze of the Obsidian Earth. A mournful cry echoed, both melody and lament!

These Nine Cadences and Three Aspects, for ages untold upon the Celestial Continent, were steeped in legend. Every tale, however disparate, traced back to a single truth: when the Nine and Three aligned, a chosen heir would rise, blessed by the ancient Celestial Ancestor, or the primeval Ancient Ancestor.

Now, in the ancestral city of the Celestials, and within the tri-regal citadel of the Ancients, as fissures spider-webbed across the ancestral effigies, the Grand Empyrean of the Ancient Path, standing at the edge of the tempestuous Sea-Wall in the heart of the Desolate Basin, witnessed with his own eyes this prophesied moment.

Upon the Ancient lands, a colossal figure, forged from the very breath of the earth, now stood and breathed its last to the heavens. And on the Celestial lands, another immense form, similarly born of the earth’s essence, took shape.

These two specters seemed to shoulder the sky itself. Yet, between them, a third figure materialized, its radiance bathing the cosmos in blinding light.

This figure… belonged to Wang Lin!

This figure… *was* Wang Lin!

An entity beyond Celestial and Ancient!

With closed eyes, as the ephemeral avatar merged with him, Wang Lin felt the mingled power of Celestial and Ancient, a force within him that should have taken a century to complete a single cycle. Instead, it surged forth, completing a revolution in the span of a breath, accelerating still, birthing even more of this strange, blended energy within his being.

A revelation flickered in his mind. When his essence of Emptiness finally achieved corporeal form, the celestial and ancient energies within would fuse flawlessly. Henceforth, within him, there would be neither Celestial nor Ancient, only a power that was uniquely his.

At that moment, he would wield the strength to cast the net of consequence into the river of reincarnation, to haul forth his true self.

He knew not how long passed – an eternity of ages, or merely a fleeting instant. Then, Wang Lin opened his eyes. Above him, the Dao-Heaven technique, a colossal foot born of the Ancient Path’s power, plunged down, as if unshackled.

As it descended within mere dozens of feet, Wang Lin sighed softly. Fused with his avatar, blessed by the Nine Cadences and Three Aspects, his cultivation now surpassed all upon the Celestial Continent.

Even if the Celestial and Ancient Ancestors were reborn, he was worthy to stand against them.

Henceforth, the legends of the Celestial Continent would forever bear the footprints of Wang Lin alongside those of the Ancestors.

This technique of the Ancient Path, in Wang Lin’s eyes, was but a nascent attempt at the Sky-Stepping Realm. In silent contemplation, as the massive foot loomed only ten feet away, he raised his right hand and pointed a single finger.

At his touch, the titanic foot shuddered, collapsing into countless fragments that scattered before him. A sudden, furious wind swept these shards away, vanishing them into the void, and from the sight of the Grand Empyrean of the Ancient Path.

The Ancient Path fell silent, the lines of his face deepening with age, hinting at a weariness that was both profound and strangely freeing.

“I cannot halt your steps… but I ask that you, in three hundred years, when the Ancient God Realm opens, enter from the Ancient side…” The Ancient Path bowed deeply to Wang Lin, clasping his hands.

Wang Lin hesitated, then nodded.

“Thank you…” The Ancient Path closed his eyes, then opened them, his countenance restored. Once more, mist coalesced around him, shrouding his form, rising on swirling currents that carried him skyward, towards the lands of the Ancients.

Wang Lin watched him go, until no trace of mist remained, until the echoes of the battle faded into the howling of the Sea-Wall’s tempest. Then, he turned and strode into the storm.

To pierce the storm was to tread upon the fringes of the Celestial domain. Soon, he would enter the lands of the Celestials!

The battle was over, its echoes fading. The Ancient Path had fallen. Henceforth, the title of the strongest in all the Celestial Continent belonged not to the Ancient Path, but to… Wang Lin!

Yet, save for a few Grand Empyreans rushing towards the epicenter, the rest of the continent remained blissfully unaware.

Twelve days after Wang Lin’s departure, seven streams of light hurtled towards the Sea-Wall, converging to reveal seven figures.

These were the seven Grand Empyreans of the Celestial Continent!

Each knew the other, aligned to opposing factions, yet they harbored no desire for battle. They merely gazed upon the ravaged land, their divine senses probing the ruins, before falling into somber silence.

From within the Sea-Wall, the Celestial Empyreans dared not step into the Ancient domain, yet their divine senses pierced the boundary with ease.

Xuan Luo closed his eyes. The very air crackled with the echoes of an earth-shattering battle. Even now, the warp in the fabric of reality remained tangible.

“The remnants of this battle will linger for centuries…” Song Tian murmured, likewise feeling the unsettling distortions in the balance of the world.

The masked Grand Empyrean of the mysterious Archaic lineage, stood silently, a hint of shock in his eyes.

“The Grand Empyrean of the Ancient Path… who could have faced him in battle? Yet, it seems the Ancient Path was victorious!”

“Could it have been… Wang Lin…?” Xuan Luo opened his eyes, uncertainty creeping into his gaze.

Within the howling Sea-Wall, the four Celestial Empyreans stood in similar silence, withdrawing their divine senses, gazing upon the desolate battlefield. They could not imagine the scale of the battle that had unfolded here days before.

“Surely, it wasn’t him…” Dao Yi murmured.

“To fight the Ancient Path, and leave such devastation… to witness such a battle would have been a boon beyond measure to my cultivation…” Jiu Di sighed. He too wondered who had faced the Ancient Path, and if it could have possibly been… Wang Lin.
Lord Wu Feng gazed upon the battlefield, his eyes shadowed with a complex mix of emotions. The very fabric of reality had fractured here, the air thick with chaotic energies that obscured all but the immediate vicinity. The shattered remnants of power offered no solace, no lessons learned.

They had journeyed here, driven not only by the cataclysmic resonance of the battle that had warped the heavens, but also by a desire to witness its truth with their own eyes. Now, that hope lay in ruins.

The Twin Celestial Grandmasters, their youthful forms merged into a single, breathtakingly beautiful woman, stood in silent contemplation. Even she, despite her profound power, wrestled with the identity of the one who had dared to challenge the ancient Dao.

Time trickled by, and after what seemed an eternity, the seven gathered there locked eyes, a palpable tension building in the air, a foreboding chill that spoke of inevitable conflict.

“Venerable lords of the Ancient Clans,” Jiǔ Dì declared, breaking the oppressive silence, his gaze flashing with an idea. “I have a proposition.”

Sòng Tiān and the two others of their clan turned towards Jiǔ Dì, their expressions cold and wary.

“Our conflict offers no immediate resolution, nor will we venture beyond the tempestuous sea of wind,” Jiǔ Dì continued, “thus, further bloodshed would be meaningless. You have come here seeking to witness the truth of this battle, but as you see, the fight has long ended. The very air twists with shattered rules of this world, and I foresee that in mere days, this land will collapse into a desolate wasteland.

“Soon, none but the combatants themselves will be able to discern the secrets of this place, and we shall lose forever the opportunity to learn from this event. I possess a powerful art, an ancient magic capable, should we seven combine our wills, of temporarily reversing the destruction, of restoring a semblance of the battle as it was. We could then project our consciousness into the past, witnessing the encounter as though we were truly there!

“What say you, lords of the Ancient Clans?”

Jiǔ Dì paused, his gaze holding theirs. “I seek only to witness the battle, nothing more. I swear it upon my very essence!” Wu Feng, standing beside Jiǔ Dì, nodded in agreement. “I, too, shall offer such an oath!”

Dao Yi hesitated for a moment, glancing between Jiǔ Dì and Wu Feng, then nodded his assent. The Twin Celestial Grandmaster, after a period of silent deliberation, also agreed.

Sòng Tiān and his companions exchanged a knowing look, then chose to accept the offer. They were figures of such immense power, their words carried a weight of truth. Furthermore, they possessed their own means to guard against treachery from Jiǔ Dì.

After another period of preparation, Jiǔ Dì produced an ancient jade scroll, revealing its secrets to each of the six others. Then, as one, the seven began to weave their magic, chanting the arcane words and shaping the ether with their hands.

Seven beams of celestial light erupted, swirling and intertwining above the battlefield. An earth-shattering boom echoed through the shattered landscape, and the seven lords watched with bated breath.

Gradually, within the layers of shimmering light, two figures began to materialize. One was the ancient Dao Celestial Grandmaster, his features obscured by a veil of primal energy. The other, while equally indistinct, possessed an aura that was instantly recognizable to all seven witnesses.

“Wáng Lín!”

“It is truly him!”

A wave of shock reverberated through their minds. But what they witnessed next sent them reeling in disbelief.

They saw the Dao Celestial Grandmaster unleash his full power. They saw Wáng Lín’s single, earth-shattering step. They saw the final, decisive moment when Wáng Lín pointed a single finger, shattering the Grandmaster’s earth-shattering defense, forcing him into a silent retreat.

The Ancient’s words, his true face remained hidden from these witnesses, but the spectacle alone was enough to leave them speechless with awe.

As the vision faded and the silence returned, the seven remained lost in their thoughts. They knew, with a certainty that resonated deep within their souls, that the skies of the Immortal-Astral Continent had forever shifted.

The strongest being on the continent was no longer the ancient Dao, but Wáng Lín.

Dao Yi trembled, his heart gripped by a fear he had never known before. Wáng Lín’s power was unfathomable, a terror that shook his very foundations.

*Could it be him* Jiǔ Dì thought, his mind recalling the vision of a century ago – the sight of a gaze descending through the heavens, just before the seventy-two tribes began their desperate cries to the heavens.