From the forgotten dust of a derelict world, where Xie’s Lin Grotto lay lost to time, a low, guttural rumble echoed after half a year of unbroken silence. A tremor shook the very ground, casting aloft a choking cloud of ochre dust that veiled the heavens like a somber shroud. From this swirling haze emerged Wang Lin, his brow furrowed in thought.

Trailing behind him was a gaunt, emaciated puppet, its clenched fist crackling with the untamed fury of caged lightning.

Lei Daozi had yielded in the end, but Wang Lin had underestimated the capriciousness of crafting a Celestial Guardian. Even with the aid of the Thunder Beast from the Lei Xian Hall, the final ritual had ended in ruin.

“A Lesser Celestial Guardian boasts the strength of a cultivator at the very pinnacle of the first step,” Wang Lin mused aloud. “The First Guardian, infused with the essence of a Tian Gui, warped and twisted during the forging, achieving a realm akin to Yin Void.

“This Second Guardian, I imbued with the spirit of a Yin Void cultivator and the Thunder Beast, hoping to birth a Mid-Grade Guardian. Alas, failure again.”

Wang Lin sighed inwardly. So many things in this world seem within one’s grasp, yet prove to be naught but fleeting illusions, reflections in a shattered mirror.

“My Dao heart wavers!” He banished the frustration from his mind, regaining his accustomed serenity. Turning to gaze upon the desiccated husk that followed him, his eyes were alight with contemplation.

“Not all is lost, though,” he murmured.

In the Second Guardian’s failure, Lei Daozi’s primal spirit had been stripped of its sentience, becoming a strange orb of raw power, fusing itself to the ravaged flesh. The Thunder Beast’s essence, likewise ground to dust, was interwoven in this macabre union.

“Silver Zenith Peak.” Wang Lin averted his gaze. He had failed, yes, but in that moment of catastrophe, he had severed the binding threads of Lei Daozi’s soul, aborting the ritual and casting the Guardian down from the third step to the humble first.

Now, he possessed a body of Silver Zenith Peak strength, a half-formed Celestial Guardian. It could wield no celestial arts, yet its physical fortitude was immense.

Were Wang Lin capable of astral projection, he could attempt to manipulate the thing. But alas, his spirit remained tethered. He could only hope to guide it through his mind’s eye, urging it to perform simple actions – like the fist that had shattered stone.

Such meager control was useless in battle. Even if he could project his spirit, it would chafe against the lingering vestiges of Lei Daozi’s will within the flesh.

Once a Celestial Guardian was brought into being, only its own true spirit could command it freely. If the forging ritual failed at the third step, none could ever truly master it, save for one of such surpassing power as to seize its vessel through the dark art of soul-theft.

Wang Lin, his face an impassive mask, consigned the failed Guardian to his pouch and returned to his grotto.

He had too many tasks to dwell on one failure. He needed to center himself. The sting of the aborted ritual faded, and tranquility returned.

“I must first elevate my cultivation to match the depths of my comprehension,” he thought. Seated cross-legged within his grotto, his eyes shone with purpose as he gazed into the shadows ahead.

His three master souls, the Seven-Star Sword – all were safely stowed. But the Celestial Guardians and the twin blades of Ling Tianhou remained within, ever present.

Near the Celestial Guardians lingered the Thunder Beast, its third seal broken, crouched low to the earth.

The twin blades of Ling Tianhou floated in the air, radiating potent sword intent, and whispering on the wind.

Wang Lin’s gaze was fixed on the Thunder Beast.

Had his life not hung in the balance, he would never have broken the third seal of the Thunder Beast so hastily. The Star-Shooting Chariot was volatile, a careless act could result in being devoured by it.

Yet, in the past half-year, the Thunder Beast had behaved in an astonishing manner, showing no hint of rebellion and following his every command.

But it refused to undergo the transformation back into the Star-Shooting Chariot, or to return to his pouch.

With its third seal broken, the Thunder Beast was now thrice its previous size, radiating an even more imposing aura. The gold in its silver horns had spread, like sunlight piercing silver clouds.

As Wang Lin watched, the Thunder Beast raised its massive head and swept its luminous eyes over him, its nostrils exhaling twin bolts of lightning that danced along its flanks.

In that shared gaze, Wang Lin sensed something new in the beast: a glimmer of true intelligence, even reason.

Before, the Thunder Beast had been indomitable, but its eyes had never held such profound understanding.

Perhaps tiring of the scrutiny, the Thunder Beast looked away, lowered its great head, and with a low growl, flashed out of the grotto like a bolt of lightning, vanishing into the vast expanse.

Wang Lin smiled ruefully. This had become a common occurrence over the past months, the beast would often disappear for days before returning.

After a moment of thoughtful silence, a resolute light ignited in Wang Lin’s eyes.

“Since the beast refuses to be confined, let it roam free!” He raised his hand and the two blades of Ling Tianhou swept towards him, merging into his body. The Celestial Guardians took their place at the mouth of the cave, standing guard.

Wang Lin withdrew a pouch, once belonging to Lei Daozi. With Lei Daozi’s spirit now mingled with the Second Guardian, the pouch was now unowned, its brand wiped away.

Within were many items. Amongst them, four held his attention. The first was a jade slip.

One side of the jade was carved with a Thunder Beast, sporting golden horns and radiating bolts of celestial energy. The other side held a massive rune.

Its meaning was unknown to Wang Lin, but its function could be divined.

Rarely did a mere jade slip boast such embellishments, it must be a symbol of authority.
Wang Lin extended his divine sense, probing the artifact. Instantly, a surge of crackling energy erupted, a defiant barrier against his intrusion. Unperturbed, the cultivator scrutinized the lightning, a knowing smile slowly blooming upon his lips.

“Could it be,” he mused, a peculiar glint in his eyes, “that I possess the latent talent of a Thunder Celestial Hall disciple?” This electrical resistance would surely deter most, even those who had glimpsed the Second Step of cultivation.

But Wang Lin was not most.

Woven into the radiant energy was a thread of true celestial thunder, a genuine force of the heavens. It was clear that without the secrets of the Thunder Celestial Hall, understanding its nature would be impossible.

Yet, Wang Lin harbored a piece of a long-dead Thunder Dragon within his very soul. The dragon’s essence, drawn from the primordial age, far surpassed the jade’s paltry imitation. With a silent command, the primal thunder within his spirit stirred, merging with his probing sense. The electrical barrier shattered before him, revealing the secrets within the jade slip.

Even with his renowned composure, Wang Lin’s eyes widened. Within the jade were etched the details of but two arcane techniques. The first, *Cauldron of Heaven and Earth*.

This art detailed the method of forging a cauldron of pure intent, capturing the very essence of creation and destruction. By infusing it with one’s own Yuan energy, a being could unleash a torrent of unimaginable power.

This, of course, was the very technique the Thunder Daozi had used against him. Wang Lin felt the echo of its might resonating deep within his soul.

“Alas,” he murmured, “its demands on Yuan energy are steep. One must reach the realm of Yin Vacuity before wielding such a power.”

His attention shifted to the second technique, the one that had truly captured his interest. It was known as the *Thunder Yuan Art*.

*”Thunder Yuan Art – Fragment of a Low Celestial Technique*. Draws upon the Yuan energy contained within celestial thunder, channeling it into the body to accelerate the refinement of one’s own Yuan energy, shortening one’s stay within the realms of Yin and Yang, Reality and Illusion.”

*”This art is inherently dangerous. The influx of celestial thunder is too potent for any cultivator within the First Step. It is forbidden to practice.”*

Wang Lin’s heart quickened. Ordinary mortals might be incinerated by such power, but he, through a series of improbable fortunes, possessed a soul steeped in thunder. To him, this incomplete technique was priceless.

Even a complete Low Celestial Technique paled in comparison. The *Thunder Yuan Art*, though flawed, was precisely what he needed.

“No wonder the Thunder Celestial Hall holds such sway in this Roaming Heaven Star City. With this *Thunder Yuan Art*, their disciples can draw upon the ambient thunder, far outpacing others in their cultivation,” Wang Lin murmured, a sharp glint in his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

“With the *Thunder Yuan Art* and the *Cauldron of Heaven and Earth*, coupled with my Thunder Beast, even a true Emissary of the Thunder Celestial Hall would be hard-pressed to gauge my strength.”

After committing the technique to memory, he carefully tucked the jade slip into his storage bag and turned to the next item.

It was a sword, yet its form was not of steel or jade, but purely of crackling electricity. Wang Lin had witnessed the Thunder Daozi wield it, engaging the Celestial Guardians. Even their mightiest blows failed to shatter its ephemeral form.

He regarded the lightning blade for a moment, then added it to his growing collection.

The third item was a fist-sized chunk of silvery ore, pulsating with a faint electrical current. It drew his attention with undeniable force. He probed it with his divine sense, meticulously studying its composition, and finally, he reached out and touched it.

The moment his skin made contact, a torrent of raw energy erupted from the ore, surging up his arm, a miniature thunderclap echoing within his flesh.

For any other cultivator, this influx of power would be crippling, perhaps fatal. But Wang Lin’s soul, the repository of primordial thunder, opened and devoured the lightning.

As the energy vanished, a minute, almost imperceptible tendril of pure celestial Yuan energy unfurled within him. It was a mere whisper, yet it lit his eyes with burning light.

He drew a deep breath, his gaze locked on the ore. After a long moment of deliberation, he resisted the urge to absorb its entirety and placed the stone within his storage bag.

The final object was one with which he was intimately familiar: Celestial Jade.