Lady Nangong, her ethereal gaze fell upon the figure of Wang Lin.

The esteemed Daoist Lan Meng, his eyes too beheld Wang Lin.

Throughout the Immortal Realm, all who had once borne witness to Wang Lin in days of yore, now saw him again. A vision robed in purest white, hair the color of winter snow, the Boundary Sealing Sovereign they held sacred in their hearts!

Some, who had only ascended to the Immortal Realm in later years, though they had not been present for Wang Lin’s initial arrival, had heard countless tales of his early exploits, whispered through the ages.

Now, as they beheld him, the Immortal Realm erupted in a joyous uproar, the preceding anxieties and fears vanishing in an instant.

Nangong Zi, existing only as a nascent soul, was granted a boon beyond measure. With but a gesture, Wang Lin summoned the very essence of Heaven and Earth, weaving it into a corporeal form, a body perfectly suited for her spirit to inhabit, free of discomfort.

Daoist Lan Meng, upon Wang Lin’s arrival, gazed upon him with hesitant eyes, yet spoke no words. He waited until Wang Lin had crafted Nangong Zi’s new form, then seemed poised to speak, but in the end, only a sigh escaped his lips.

Wang Lin, with a warm smile, greeted those familiar faces that surrounded him. He noticed Xu Liguo and Liu Jinbiao in the distance, engaging several Immortal Realm cultivators in what seemed to be a spirited discussion. Upon Liu Jinbiao’s shoulder rested a diminutive sea dragon, no thicker than a finger, its spirit utterly deflated. One of the cultivators dared to touch it, earning a toothy snarl in response, followed by a chuckle.

Thirteen, as always, sought solitude. He sat in lotus position upon a patch of barren ground, eyes occasionally opening to regard Wang Lin with a deep reverence.

Drawing his gaze away, Wang Lin walked alone towards Daoist Lan Meng.

Daoist Lan Meng’s face was ashen, a clear indication of the grievous wounds he had sustained.

Wang Lin raised his right hand, and with a mere flick of his fingers, the energies of the surrounding Heaven and Earth surged forth, converging upon Daoist Lan Meng’s form. His injuries began to heal at an astonishing rate.

Soon, the pallor faded from Daoist Lan Meng’s face. He released a deep breath and offered a nod of gratitude to Wang Lin.

“And… my daughter Qianmei? Is she well?” Daoist Lan Meng asked, his voice laced with concern.

Wang Lin fell silent, taking a seat before him.

Seeing Wang Lin’s expression, a knot of dread tightened in Daoist Lan Meng’s heart, his face paling once more.

“What has befallen her, Wang Lin? Tell me everything.”

“I have not found her in her reincarnated form,” Wang Lin confessed, a hint of bitterness in his voice. Before Daoist Lan Meng, even as the strongest being in the Immortal Astral Continent, Wang Lin maintained the respect of a junior. This was the father of Li Qianmei, and a benefactor of his past.

“Not found her…” Daoist Lan Meng whispered, closing his eyes.

“She went to the Immortal Astral Continent for *you*. And you have not found her…? I trusted you!” Daoist Lan Meng opened his eyes and laughed, a hollow, desperate sound that spoke of profound disappointment and simmering rage.

Just then, a deafening roar ripped through the blood-red sky. The numerous cracks that marred the heavens began to crumble, on the verge of collapse, and a maniacal laugh echoed from beyond.

“You insects of the Cave World, clinging to your futile resistance! You believe this paltry array can hold back this old one? Soon, it will shatter, and you shall all become sustenance to fuel my ascension!” The voice, faint at first, swelled with each word, becoming a thunderous cascade that shook the very foundations of the Immortal Realm. All present turned their gazes skyward, their hearts filled with foreboding.

The precise extent of Wang Lin’s power was unknown to those of the Immortal Realm, but the fact that he had arrived undetected was proof enough of his formidable strength. But whether he could truly withstand the might of the Crimson Soul, few could say with certainty.

Nangong Zi, however, remained composed. He felt no fear. From the ease with which Wang Lin had woven a new body for him from the fabric of existence, he knew Wang Lin possessed a power far beyond comprehension.

He observed Xu Liguo and Liu Jinbiao, their eyes raised to the sky, a look of utter disdain upon their faces. Even the tiny serpent upon Liu Jinbiao’s shoulder exuded a similar contempt. His certainty grew.

Nearby, Thirteen watched the heavens, a frigid light gleaming in his impassive gaze.

“Her mark has faded; she must have regained her memories… I have searched and searched, but I cannot find her. Yet, I have a sense that she is somewhere in the Immortal Astral Continent, hidden in some unknown corner. She knows I seek her; she knows I exist…” Wang Lin spoke, ignoring the cacophony in the skies. He looked into the eyes of Daoist Lan Meng, his heart heavy with sorrow.

“If she were to release even the slightest trace of her aura, I would sense it instantly… Even now, returned to the Cave World, the faintest hint of her presence would not escape my notice.”

“Yet…” Wang Lin murmured, his voice thick with pain. “I feel that she… *deliberately* avoids me. She does not wish to be found…” Wang Lin closed his eyes, a sharp pain twisting in his chest. This ache was different from the yearning he felt for Li Muwan, but no less agonizing.

He would never forget the words she had whispered to him, years ago, her tone laced with an emotion he could not quite decipher.

“Wang Lin, gratitude… not love…”

Daoist Lan Meng listened to Wang Lin’s words, his face etched with concern. He understood the turmoil in Wang Lin’s heart, and he knew his daughter well.

Another earth-shattering boom echoed through the heavens as the cracks in the sky widened and multiplied, forming a gaping hole through which a torrent of crimson light spilled, accompanied by a triumphant, bloodcurdling laugh.

The sky itself seemed to be collapsing, an infinite network of rifts tearing apart the fabric of reality. The Immortal Realm’s protective array, weakened by days of relentless assault, had finally succumbed to the Crimson Soul, leaving a breach wide enough to allow his forces passage. Soon, nothing would stand between him and the defenseless world.

The laughter reverberated throughout the Immortal Realm, a chilling proclamation of victory.

From the newly formed chasm, a swarm of crimson figures emerged, swarming the sky like a plague.

These were the puppets, the soulless warriors who served the Crimson Soul. They descended upon the Immortal Realm, their faces blank, their eyes fixed upon the mortals below.
After each of the crimson shadows manifested, a youth garbed in scarlet robes strode forth from the jagged fissure. His face shone with arrogant delight, laced with a palpable bloodlust. As he fully emerged, his voice echoed through the heavens and the earth.

“Pitiful formations! My esteemed master has shattered them! You base-born cultivators, how will you resist now? Mu Bingmei, once my master has… *refined* you, you will understand the difference between myself and this Wang Lin!” The crimson-robed youth cackled, stepping fully into the blood-red light. His eyes gleamed as he gazed downwards. But as his gaze settled, his words died in his throat.

He beheld Nan Yunzi on the ground, a chilling smirk playing on his lips, Nan Yunzi possessed of a physical form. He saw the exquisite Mu Bingmei, her face now a mask of cold disdain, regarding him as if he were already a corpse.

But what truly sent a tremor through his soul was the sight of a white-robed man seated cross-legged before the venerable Lan Meng Dao Zun. This man did not raise his head, yet the moment the youth’s gaze fell upon him, he shuddered. The man’s face held a haunting familiarity.

“This…he…” The crimson-robed youth stammered, his mind suddenly a tempest of crashing thunder. He could scarcely believe his eyes.

The man’s features were identical to the statues he had seen since childhood, the likeness of the Vermillion Bird Star’s founder!

“Ancestor…” He seemed driven mad, refusing to accept that the figure before him was the legendary Wang Lin.

Yet, the primal tremor in his very soul screamed the truth: this white-haired youth was indeed the founder of the Vermillion Bird Star, the former Sovereign of the Sealed Realm, Wang Lin!

“Even if it *is* him, what does it matter? He is no match for my master!” The youth’s face paled, and he recoiled, drawing in a sharp breath. Then, with a desperate snarl, he steeled himself. “Interesting… you’ve found someone who resembles him. Do you truly believe…”

His words were cut short as, from below, the white-robed figure finally lifted his head and gazed upon him. The man’s eyes were pools of serene stillness, but as they met the youth’s, a wave of terror washed over him.

“Thirteen,” Wang Lin said, his voice calm and devoid of emotion, “kill him.”

Nearby, Thirteen’s eyes flashed with icy resolve. Without hesitation, he surged skyward, each stride across the firmament imbued with power. He raised his right hand, and swirling emerald vapors coalesced, revealing the mastery of the Eight Extremes Dao: the Way of Extreme Fire!

From the moment they had met, Wang Lin had nurtured his disciple Thirteen, bestowing upon him techniques and arts suited to his very being. He had gifted him power from the very heavens, allowing Thirteen to ascend to greater heights.

Such a feat was impossible for most, but Wang Lin, with one foot already upon the threshold of the Transcendental realm, possessed a power akin to that of ancient ancestors. For him, it was a simple matter.

As the eyes of the countless celestial cultivators below converged, Thirteen, his face a mask of cold intent, stood wreathed in emerald vapors. The vapors swirled into a series of expanding rings, followed by a deafening roar. As the rings dissipated, the sky ignited with a raging inferno.

Within the flames, the crimson shadow puppets were utterly consumed, offering no resistance. The firestorm blotted out the sun. Then, a piercing scream echoed through the heavens. Thirteen emerged from the inferno, his right hand clutching a severed head, its face frozen in an eternal mask of despair.

The firestorm vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the heavens bathed in a diminished crimson glow. A gnarled figure appeared in the shattered sky, staring in dumbfounded horror at Wang Lin amongst the crowd below.

“Wang Lin!” The figure’s face contorted into a mask of disbelief, quickly replaced by a visage of pure, unbridled rage. The power of his Sky Tribulation cultivation erupted, shaking the heavens and trembling the very ground.

“You dare return from the Immortal Graveyard Realm! But even returned, you are nothing but an ant before me!” The figure, none other than Chi Hunzi, roared as he charged forth, a streak of light plunging from the fissure toward Wang Lin.

Wang Lin’s true cultivation remained shrouded in mystery, but Chi Hunzi believed the man was merely concealing it with some common artifact. Such tricks were commonplace on the Immortal Astral Continent. With his own Sky Tribulation power, Chi Hunzi was certain of his victory.

Wang Lin watched as Chi Hunzi hurtled towards him, his expression unchanged.

But before Wang Lin could move, a tiny serpent, no thicker than a finger, stirred upon Liu Jinbiao’s shoulder. It raised its head, its eyes glowing with feral intensity, and unleashed a heaven-shattering roar.

The roar reverberated through the heavens, deafening the celestial cultivators and causing Chi Hunzi to stumble, halting mid-air. He turned, his eyes widening in abject horror.

“That…this…”

The tiny serpent shot skyward, and to the astonishment of all, began to swell, growing larger and larger until it regained its true form: a colossal sea dragon, tens of thousands of feet long, filling the heavens with its terrifying presence. The dragon unleashed another earth-shattering roar at the paralyzed Chi Hunzi.

“Golden… Supreme… Sea…Dragon!” Chi Hunzi felt as if he were trapped in some waking nightmare…(To be continued)