The Thunderous Celestial Realm dwarfed even the Rain Celestial Realm of the Alliance Starfield, a testament to its preserved grandeur. Upon the jagged edge of a continent, splintered from the whole, stood a mountain perpetually wreathed in celestial lightning.

Tendrils of raw power, like silver serpents, danced ceaselessly across its slopes, stirring unease and awe in the hearts of any who beheld them. The sky above was a canvas of perpetual twilight, rent asunder by thunderbolts that plunged into the mountain’s heart, as if bound to it in eternal union. The roar of thunder echoed ceaselessly, a symphony of the heavens that lingered long after the lightning had faded.

Halfway up the storm-ravaged peak, nestled within a secluded grotto, sat Wang Lin. He was mending grievous wounds through meditative repose. Outside the grotto’s mouth, his Celestial Guardian, a being crafted of arcane energies, mimicked its master, drawing upon the potent energies of the realm to mend its own intricate workings.

On this day, Wang Lin’s eyes snapped open, twin stars of fierce intent gleaming within. Before him floated more than a dozen fragments, varied in size and shape, suspended as if cradled by an invisible hand.

Wang Lin’s gaze was troubled. He had never witnessed the Source Artifact of the Thunderous Celestial Realm, but suspicion whispered that these shards, seven in ten at least, were fragments of its shattered form.

He raised his hands, taking one shard and examining it with meticulous care before setting it down. Then he lifted another, and another after that, committing each imperfection and intricate detail to memory. Finally, he closed his eyes.

Within the cathedral of his mind, he labored as if crafting an intricate ward, painstakingly piecing together the shattered remnants, seeking the most perfect configuration.

Time ebbed away. An hour passed before Wang Lin opened his eyes, his brow furrowed in frustration.

“These fragments cannot form a complete artifact. Pieces are missing.” After a moment of contemplative silence, Wang Lin waved his hand. The shards before him, now enveloped in swirling celestial energy, began to move, interweaving and connecting until they formed the rough shape of a waterskin.

Scar-like cracks marred its surface where the fragments met, lending it a broken, yet haunting beauty. Yet, the vessel was incomplete; a gaping void remained on one side, rendering it imperfect.

After a long, silent observation, Wang Lin clapped his hand against the air, severing the connections. He gathered the fragments back into his storage pouch.

“Why did Xu Fenghan, a Yin Void cultivator, not carry a storage pouch…” The question had plagued Wang Lin since the moment he ended Xu Fenghan’s existence. After the cultivator’s death, his body had dissipated, and a sweep of Wang Lin’s divine sense revealed no trace of any means of storage. Such an anomaly defied explanation.

“A man of such prowess, venturing into the Thunderous Celestial Realm, would surely carry some provisions, if not enchanted tools. And if he found treasures here, how would he carry them, save in his bare hands?” Wang Lin’s brow furrowed deeper with each unspoken question, finding no satisfactory answer.

“There must be a reason I cannot comprehend. Or perhaps, his method of storage is known to none!” Suddenly, a glint of insight sparked in Wang Lin’s eyes. He remembered the demonic lotus within the Dao-Haunted Yellow Springs! “Could it be…”

His eyes gleamed with newfound purpose. A thought sent tendrils of Yellow Springs rippling around him, a manifestation of his will, capable of expansion or contraction. Now, reduced to a swirling aura, it encircled him. With a gesture, Wang Lin drew upon the Yellow Springs, unleashing a torrent of resentment. From within the swirling chaos emerged the demonic lotus of Xu Fenghan.

Wang Lin’s gaze was unwavering as he fixed upon the demonic lotus. It could not linger outside the Yellow Springs for long, lest it fade into oblivion. Only within the Yellow Springs could its demise be staved off.

The demonic flames that once danced upon it had long since been extinguished, leaving only a dim and lusterless lotus and its pedestal. Wang Lin wove a hand seal, directing his Celestial Force into his eyes, imbuing them with power.

One Day See Ancient! Within the lotus pulsed a vortex of turbid energies, not lifeless, but slowly turning. As Wang Lin observed it, its rotation accelerated, and from within, a chorus of howls seemed to emanate, attempting to extend along Wang Lin’s line of sight.

A chilling glint flashed in Wang Lin’s eyes. Instead of retreating, he allowed the strange energies their chance. In an instant, a black mist surged forth, coalescing into a grotesque demon that lunged at Wang Lin, its maw agape, intent on devouring him whole.

But as the creature rushed forward, its form shuddered, as if realizing a dreadful truth. With a piercing shriek, it turned to flee back into the lotus.

It was too late! Wang Lin’s Nascent Soul erupted from his crown, wreathed in crackling lightning, pursuing the demonic entity. With a grasping hand, he seized the wisp of black smoke, pulling it, despite its frantic cries, back into his physical form.

“I cannot refine a Scattered Demon, but a mere lesser devil? Wang Lin has no fear of it!” Wang Lin’s expression was serene. Within his sea of consciousness, the devil’s shrieks grew fainter and fainter, until they ceased entirely. It had been devoured by his Nascent Soul.

Such an ability was rare among cultivators, often born of esoteric demonic practices. But Wang Lin possessed it due to his past incarnation as a Soul Devourer.

As he consumed the devilish essence, a flicker of darkness danced within his eyes, a hint of demonic taint. But in an instant, a bolt of lightning purged it, restoring his clear gaze.

He licked his lips, a newfound clarity washing over him. He could feel his Nascent Soul, not only fully restored, but even subtly enhanced, as if its energies had been compressed and refined.

Within the Yellow Springs, the demonic lotus, devoid of its black essence, was no longer clouded. Wang Lin could now see that within the lotus lay another space, and within that space floated four translucent orbs, each radiating a brilliant light. But their existence was tenuous, on the precipice of collapse.

Even as he watched, one orb shattered with a silent explosion.

Seeing that the remaining orbs were on the verge of annihilation, Wang Lin swiftly reached into the space, grasping two of the orbs. As he reached for the third, it crumbled into nothingness.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed as he retracted his hand, gazing at the two luminous orbs that floated above his palm. Once freed from the lotus, their decay had halted. A sweep of his divine sense revealed their nature, and Wang Lin’s expression changed.
“A most wondrous arcane art!” whispered Wang Lin, drawing a sharp breath. “To fashion a pouch of holding from the very fabric of one’s Dao-mind!” He understood now why Xu Fenghan bore no earthly satchel.

“To weave a pocket dimension with the essence of one’s soul… to safeguard treasures within…” Wang Lin mused. “Such a feat offers unparalleled protection. This art is potent indeed!”

The demonic lotus, robbed of its glowing orb and shadow-essence, withered as though a thousand years had passed in an instant, crumbling into brittle, sere leaves before vanishing altogether.

Wang Lin dismissed the sight, crushing a luminous pearl with a flick of his wrist. From within materialized a sealed vial, its wax unbroken and marked with the delicately etched character “Xu”.

The moment the seal shattered, a breath of pure celestial energy washed over him, invigorating body and soul. Within the vial lay a single, unidentifiable elixir, its allure whispering of extraordinary power.

After a prolonged study, Wang Lin carefully pocketed the pill. He then crushed another pearl. This time, a plain paper talisman fluttered down, unremarkable in every way.

Upon it was scrawled a simple sigil in vermillion ink.

“What is this…?” Wang Lin muttered, picking up the talisman and scrutinizing it closely. It resembled nothing more than the rudimentary charms employed by low-born cultivators from his early days of cultivation, almost indistinguishable.

“That Xu Fenghan would hide this within his Dao-mind suggests it holds more than meets the eye!” A frown creased Wang Lin’s brow. He studied the talisman for an age, yet discerned no hidden power.

After a long, contemplative silence, he pocketed the talisman, setting aside the puzzle for now. With a subtle shift, he strode from his cave, the Immortal Guardian coalescing into a shadow that melded with his own.

Before him stretched the fragmented continent of the Thunder Immortal Realm, bordered by a seething expanse of lightning, tinged with the hues of rusted iron, reaching into the abyssal darkness beyond.

“The Rain Immortal Realm held teleportation arrays,” Wang Lin murmured. “But here, the raw power of thunder prevents their creation. All must be traversed by foot.” He hesitated, then chose not to rush. Instead, he flew low, his divine sense weaving through the land, seeking pockets of lingering celestial energy.

Suddenly, his expression tightened. In the distance, twin blades of light streaked towards him, bearing a male and female figure.

The man, garbed in deep blue, held his long hair back with a ribbon of pale azure. His age was around thirty, his gaze sharp, his features handsome. The woman beside him, perhaps twenty-seven, possessed a striking beauty marred by a hint of cruelty in her phoenix-shaped eyes.

Their flight faltered as they spotted Wang Lin. They cautiously scanned him, their tension easing upon recognizing his nascent soul, peak stage. They exchanged a quick glance and moved away without a word.

As they appraised Wang Lin’s cultivation, he did the same to them. Both were nascent soul, peak stage, yet lacking any further breakthrough.

Their nascent souls contained only a modicum of Yuan energy, nothing akin to his own state of saturation.

The pair, wanting no confrontation, hastened away. Wang Lin dismissed them, his gaze returning to the land.

The Thunder Immortal Realm had been opened many times. Each subsequent visit yielded fewer rewards, but those discovered often proved to be of the highest quality.

Drawing upon his experiences in the Rain Immortal Realm, Wang Lin began his search, familiar with the subtle signs. Weeks drifted by. He encountered few cultivators, perhaps three or five in total.

None were Soul Transformation cultivators. Most were at the nascent soul stage, with a lone Soul Formation stage cultivator among them.

After a month, Wang Lin had scoured the entire continent without success. He paused, considering, then turned and retraced his steps.

One day, as he was flying, his eyes narrowed. Upon the ground, in a place he was certain had been barren before, lay a concealed formation.

Though cleverly hidden, it was unmistakable to Wang Lin, the master of restrictions. He knew he had not seen it when he passed this way before.