A palpable miasma of dark sorcery erupted from the ancient demon, Tàjiā, coalescing above him into a grotesque and colossal fiendish shade. The monstrous silhouette strained against some invisible tether, yearning to break free and soar into the heavens.

Yet, as the crimson blade descended, the shadowy entity emitted a muffled groan. Its very form was forcefully pressed down, crushed beneath the weapon’s immense power. Raising its spectral arms in a futile attempt to resist, the demon shade found its limbs pulverized by the blade’s implacable descent.

Terror flared within Tàjiā’s eyes. While others might remain ignorant of the Four Holy Relics’ true origin, he, after careful observation, had arrived at a chilling certainty. “This… this is an artifact of the Primordial Celestial Dao!” he gasped inwardly. Above him, the demonic effigy, amidst thunderous roars, was utterly incapable of halting the encroaching sword. It watched, helpless, as the scarlet steel hurtled towards Tàjiā himself, cleaving through the phantom form that stood between them.

At that critical juncture, Tiānyùnzi, standing nearby, made a resolute decision. With a swift flourish of his sleeve, he became enveloped in a vibrant, seven-hued aura. Drawing a deep breath, he pointed a trembling finger forward and intoned, “Celestial Fortune’s Seven Radiance, by heaven’s mandate – rend and sever the crimson!”

As the words left his lips, Tiānyùnzi shuddered violently. The scarlet strand of light that had surrounded him peeled away from the rest, streaking towards the crimson blade poised above the ancient demon.

“Sunder the orange!” From the remaining six colours, the orange light detached itself. With each desperate cry, Tiānyùnzi shed a different shade, until all seven – red, orange, yellow, green, azure, indigo, and violet – streamed forth in a desperate attempt to buy time for the ancient demon, Tàjiā.

“Seven Hues Converge, become the Celestial Fortune Sigil!” Tiānyùnzi’s raven hair danced wildly around his head, defying the nonexistent breeze. With that final, desperate utterance, the seven streamers of light began to spin and coalesce, forming a vortex of vibrant, swirling colour.

From within the heart of the vortex, three wooden talismans materialized. Tiānyùnzi snatched them from the air, and with a swift, fluid motion, hurled them forward. The talismans collided mid-air and fell into a pattern that resembled a mystic diagram. Tiānyùnzi’s eyes locked onto the symbol, widened as he performed a complex hand seal, then with a surge of energy, jabbed a finger at the wooden charms.

“Borrow the Dao, Ascend to the Way!” As the words resonated through the air, an indescribable aura emanated from the three wooden talismans. The very presence of it caused the crimson blade to falter momentarily, as if a sleeping power within the talismans was on the verge of awakening. The aura surged outwards, causing the surrounding observers to recoil in astonishment. The venerable Kūnxū Elder, his gaze fixed on Tiānyùnzi, saw the Dao he walks with a newfound glint in his eyes.

“Tiānyùnzi’s Dao… it is not the fortune of heaven, but rather the ability to manipulate the very fortune to create his own way. That he is on this path, is astonishing, and he has been walking on this way for far too long!”

Even the ancient demon Tàjiā seemed to grasp a fraction of the truth, his breath catching in his throat as he looked at Tiānyùnzi with dawning shock.

Wáng Lín watched, his gaze fixated on the aura emanating from the three wooden talismans. The aura was disturbingly familiar, a haunting echo of something he had encountered before. In his storage pouch, he still held fragments of crystal taken from a wound on the skull of an eight-star Ancient God within the Immortal Burial Abyss. The aura emanating from those crystals was almost identical to that now surrounding the three wooden talismans.

As the aura surrounding the talismans grew more potent, the Vermillion Bird Holy Emperor’s eyes narrowed. Without hesitation, he unleashed the third tier of the Vermillion Bird Holy Relic, roaring, “Fire Heaven!”

The crimson blade emitted a piercing shriek as flames erupted from its surface, engulfing the heavens. It was as if all fire in the cosmos were drawn to the blade, becoming one with its essence. The fiery torrent surged through the breach torn in the sky by the demon spirits, flooding into the void and turning almost half of the celestial domain into an inferno.

An aura matching that emanating from the wooden talismans emerged from within the blade, stronger than before! The blade descended, striking with the force of a collapsing star upon the three wooden talismans.

The collision was cataclysmic, a deafening roar that shook the fabric of reality. The three wooden talismans shattered instantly, and even the seven-coloured vortex behind them was ripped asunder, torn apart by the overwhelming force.

Tiānyùnzi coughed up a mouthful of blood as he was thrown backward, reeling from the backlash.

The blade pressed on, cutting through all opposition, and landed squarely above Tàjiā’s head. In that fateful instant, the demon roared in defiance, and from his brow, a swirling black mist coalesced. It was his Ancient Demon True Spirit, erupting from his flesh with an aura of defiance, hurtling towards the descending blade.

He was an Ancient Demon, one of the ancient demon race, a race defiant to the heavens.

But the moment his True Spirit appeared, a flash of scarlet light erupted from the heart of the blade. The blood of the Ancient Vermillion Bird that now formed the core of the Holy Relic surged forth. The red light flashed once, then plunged directly into the Ancient Demon’s brow. “This… this blood! It isn’t the blood of the Ancient Celestial Dao…” The Ancient Demon True Spirit screamed in agony as its brow seemed to melt away. The True Spirit retreated, returning to Tàjiā’s mortal form even as the blood solidified into a crimson seal on the demon’s brow! Tàjiā shuddered violently, then collapsed to the ground.

The Vermillion Bird Holy Emperor swayed, his spectral form flickering. He was merely a soul avatar, and the toll of wielding the Primordial Holy Relic was immense. To activate the first or second tier was manageable, but the third… Only he, of the Four Saint Sects, could accomplish it, and the price it extracted was unimaginable.

His form blurred further, yet with a final gesture, he directed the crimson blade toward the retreating Tiānyùnzi. In an instant, it was upon him, poised to cleave him in twain. Following in the blade’s wake, the azure dragon spear, the white tiger blade, and the basalt halberd manifested, each poised to strike. The Vermillion Bird Holy Emperor clearly intended to end Tiānyùnzi’s life.

Tiānyùnzi’s face contorted in fury and desperation. In this moment of ultimate crisis, he raised his right hand to his brow and tore at it with savage ferocity, ripping apart the third of his seals. The third! It was only that half, but still, unleashed a wave of power. The aura it created was enough to push back the incoming four Saint Sects Holy Relic and buy enough time to escape.

Thunderous roars echoed through the heavens, unleashing a wave of destructive force. Tiānyùnzi vomited another mouthful of blood and fled desperately, tearing a rift in the sky and vanishing from sight.
The crimson blade hung motionless in the air, a silent sentinel.

The Vermilion Bird Emperor, his form now barely a whisper against the ether, watched the receding figure of Tian Yunzi. He shook his head, a weariness etched into his fading essence.

“Alas, I am old,” he murmured. “In my prime, Tian Yunzi would never have escaped the second layer of the Four Sacred Artifacts…”

He sighed, his gaze sweeping over the assembled figures before settling upon the Kunxu Elder. “Old friend,” he spoke, his voice a fading echo, “do you once more stand against the disciples of the Four Holy Sects?”

The Kunxu Elder considered, his eyes flicking between the sealed Ancient Demon, Ta Jia, and the still-floating, unsheathed Sacred Artifact. To act now, with his own cultivation, he must only fear the ancient power of the Artifacts.

“I came to repay a debt to Qing Lin,” the Elder finally declared. “The Ancient Demon is sealed, and my task is done. Farewell!” He abandoned his plan, wary of the ancient might of the Four Sacred Artifacts. The power displayed this day was but a fraction of their true potential, yet if the Four Holy Sects were pushed too far, they might resort to a blood sacrifice.

The Elder sighed inwardly and ascended into the sky, glancing back at Mu Bingmei as he rose.

Mu Bingmei, her face etched with sorrow, watched Wang Lin’s retreating back. She bit her lip, pleading softly, “Just one look… let me see him, just once!”

The Vermilion Bird Emperor paused, his eyes sweeping over Wang Lin before falling silent.

Wang Lin, his face ashen, was teetering on the edge of his endurance. His spiritual core crumbled, threatening to dissolve. Mu Bingmei’s words struck him like a physical blow, a surge of agonizing pain erupting within him.

He did not turn. He did not answer. Instead, he addressed the Vermilion Bird Emperor. “Will you take me back to the Vermilion Bird Holy Sect?”

The Emperor nodded, his gaze unwavering.

“And those who were injured because of me, take them as well. Heal them… I will agree to any conditions of the Vermilion Bird Holy Sect.”

The Vermilion Bird Emperor smiled faintly. “It shall be done.”

At his words, the disciples of the Four Holy Sects scattered, tending to the wounded. The cultivators of the Alliance retreated, their eyes wide with apprehension.

“Many of my friends have lost their physical forms…” Wang Lin said.

“The Four Holy Sects will aid them in their restoration!” the Emperor replied.

“My brother, Situ, suffers from a deadly poison of the Corpse Yin Sect…”

“I shall personally oversee his treatment!”

“My benefactor, Zhou Yi, needs Qing Lin resurrected!”

“You shall have her body! And if the Four Holy Sects’ aid is needed, it shall be given!”

“Within this Demon Spirit Land, I have a direct disciple…”

“We shall find them and bring them to the Vermilion Bird Holy Sect!”

“The cultivators of the Alliance… they sought my death! I want their Immortal Souls!” A chilling glint shone in Wang Lin’s eyes. He had no mercy for those who had wronged him, and they were like demons to him. The immortals, their faces etched with terror, turned and fled, scattering like startled birds.

The Vermilion Bird Emperor’s eyes flashed with cold light. “Easily done.” With a wave of his sleeve, the floating Sacred Artifact trembled and shattered into four fragments, each a streak of crimson death sweeping across the battlefield.

Cries of agony filled the air.

Witnessing Wang Lin’s coldness, Mu Bingmei bit down on her lip until it bled once more. Pain twisted her features as she cried out, “Wang Lin! I must see him! Please, just let me see him once!”

He could not see her pain, but he knew his own, a darkness that would haunt him for a lifetime. Wang Lin closed his eyes, his voice flat. “I owe this woman a life-saving elixir and a debt for saving my life.”

The Vermilion Bird Emperor smiled. “I will find a way to repay her, to satisfy the Kunxu Realm. Is there anything else?”

Wang Lin hesitated, then shook his head. “Let us go…”

With a grand gesture, the Vermilion Bird Emperor lifted Wang Lin into the air. Surrounded by the Emperor’s power, Wang Lin drifted toward the opening in the Demon Spirit Land.

“Wang Lin! He is my child! I must see him!” Mu Bingmei’s face was ashen. Her body trembled as she stared at Wang Lin. Her hands were clenched tightly.

“You are not worthy!” Wang Lin roared, turning abruptly. He had suppressed his emotions for so long, but he could no longer restrain himself. His voice, raw and primal, unleashed centuries of pain and despair.

He was already gravely wounded. This cathartic roar, born of years of torment, tore at his very soul. Coughing up a mouthful of blood, Wang Lin’s world descended into darkness…

The Four Holy Sects… were gone. They had taken everyone.

Tears streamed down Mu Bingmei’s face. An unbearable ache blossomed in her heart, and she collapsed, spitting blood as she fell.

The Kunxu Elder sighed, then gestured with his right hand, carrying Mu Bingmei away.

Only his aged voice echoed through the void.

“A cursed fate…”