From the demonic lands he fled, carried away upon a wagon’s wheels. This youth was Wang Lin! Two years past, within that blighted realm, he had suffered wounds grievous and deep. His mortal form was nigh shattered, and his very soul threatened to unravel, a cruel torment spurred onward by the words of the sorceress, Mu Bingmei. Thus wounded in body and spirit, he had fallen into a deep and haunted slumber.

Upon awakening, he found himself seated upon a slab of purest white stone, and behind him stood an ancient, wizened figure, none other than the Vermillion Bird Emperor himself.

For two long years, Wang Lin had separated his essence, dividing it between his true self and a phantom twin. His true form descended into the heart of the Vermillion Bird Sect’s celestial sphere, while his spectral echo remained seated upon the white stone, each striving for the balm of healing.

In those years, the power of flame within Wang Lin had surged with unnatural speed. He had tasted the whispers of Nirvana within the demonic lands, yet between the glimpse and the true transcendence lay a gulf of understanding, a truth of the spirit that must be grasped before the final step could be taken.

Such insight could not be forced, for the harder one grasped, the further it drifted. Thus, Wang Lin stilled his mind, welcoming the flow of fiery power, until the boundless energies within him swelled to a fever pitch.

“The Vermillion Bird’s Nine Transformations,” the Emperor intoned, “each mastered grants tenfold increase in one’s power. Yet these arts are deeply arcane, mastered fully by few even amongst the Emperors of our line.” He raised a hand, placing his aged fingers upon Wang Lin’s back.

A torrent of primal energy surged from the Emperor’s touch into Wang Lin’s very being.

“With your cultivation, and the strength granted by your twice-awakened spirit, especially with the emergence of the White Vermillion Bird, and the Armor of Living Flame, you possess the potential to master the first of the Nine Transformations!”

A sudden burst of flame erupted from Wang Lin’s body, echoing across the blasted starfield, reverberating like thunder among the burning planets.

Upon one of the Vermillion Bird Sect’s training worlds, a towering peak of fire pierced the sky, perpetually wreathed in flame. Yet, miraculously, amidst such inferno, life persisted. Not in verdant green, but in trees of crimson and violet that clung to the mountainside.

A gentle breeze, heavy with heat, rustled through the fiery leaves, their whispering chorus intertwining with the thunder from above, creating a symphony both haunting and strange.

Upon the summit, sat a figure in meditation. His head was large, almost comically so, upon a small, squat frame. With eyes closed, he drew in breath, a slow, measured rhythm. As the thunderous boom echoed across the sky, he opened his eyes and gazed upwards, his expression placid.

“The master’s training continues,” he murmured. “I too must hasten my adaptation to this new form.”

This was none other than Da Tou. His original flesh had been rent asunder in the demonic lands. Arriving within the Vermillion Bird Sect, he had been aided by the Grand Elders of Shattered Nirvana, who had fashioned a new body for him. From fire they formed flesh, from wood they crafted bone, from the power of the heavens they wove veins. A perfect replica of his former self, reborn by the sheer force of his will.

This new form, however, required constant attunement and refinement, until it could bear the weight of even greater powers than before.

He was not alone upon the fiery peak. In a nearby hollow, Lei Ji sat in breathless meditation, sweat pouring down his face. Before him, a scattering of crimson vials held the elixirs he required for his training.

The thunderous echoes faded into the distance, reaching ever further into the burning starfield. On a misshapen planet, a storm of fire-red sand howled across a vast desert.

The tempest reached towards the heavens, swirling sand in a dizzying vortex that sparked with countless embers. The very air that blew from its heart was like a furnace blast.

As the thunder sounded, the storm hesitated. Then, at its core, a swirling vortex opened, revealing a figure seated in meditation.

He was vast, a mountain of flesh, almost entirely unclothed, and drenched in sweat that seemed to do nothing to diminish his size.

Wiping his brow, the mountainous elder gazed upwards, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Ever since I crossed paths with Wang Lin,” he sighed, “I have been plagued by misfortune. The Wu Demon slain, and myself wounded nigh unto death. Yet, I must concede, he is not without compassion. Within the Vermillion Bird Sect, I am safer than I would be elsewhere.”

The seals that Wang Lin had placed upon him had long since been dissolved, but even without them, he dared not challenge the younger man. Wang Lin’s spirit had grown too potent.

The sight of Wang Lin’s magic in the demonic lands, the mere memory of the dwindling moon’s power, sent shivers down his spine. To even recall the image of that colossal fist descending from the sky was enough to fill Fu Fengzi with dread.

The thunder continued its relentless march, echoing ever outwards.

Upon a small training world, a great circle of red fire was carved into the surface. The flames blazed like a bonfire, and in the center sat a man whose features held a certain sinister charm. As he breathed, an aura of dark energy emanated, a palpable miasma that radiated in all directions.

Above him, a block of pure ice hung suspended, radiating chilling air. With each cycle of the fiery circle, a portion of the gathered flames was drawn into the ice, where it was transformed and channeled outwards, to be absorbed by the man below.

This process slowly healed his wounds, making him stronger than ever before. More importantly, the venom within him was being slowly contained by the dual pressures of fire and ice.

As the thunder echoed across the heavens, the man’s eyes snapped open. Sweat poured down his face, despite the icy presence above. The heat was almost unbearable.

“I can’t take it anymore!” he roared, leaping to his feet and embracing the block of ice. He shivered with pleasure, but his moment of bliss was cut short by a cold voice from nearby.

“If you do not wish to succumb to the poison, then release the ice.”

“This blasted place is too hot! If it weren’t for my brother here, I’d be long gone!”

The man clung tighter to the ice, greedily drawing in its frigid essence.
A crimson streak tore through the heavens, descending with the fury of a falling star. It halted before the encased figure, coalescing into an elder, his brow furrowed with concern. This was a Master of the Shattered Nirvana Realm from the Sacred Sect of the Vermillion Bird. With a sweep of his hand, he shattered the spell that bound the figure to the glacial prison.

“Sima Nan, you imp!” the elder boomed, his voice echoing like thunder. “I am charged by the Sacred Emperor to purge the poison from your veins! You will heed my commands, or face the discipline you so richly deserve!”

The man was indeed Sima Nan, grievously wounded in the Demon Spirit Land. Had it not been for the Vermillion Bird Sect, he would have succumbed to the insidious venom two years past. Yet, these past years were a torment, the root of which was this infuriating elder. No amount of pleading would sway him. The elder was relentless, never straying beyond a hundred paces, ever ready to unleash his power at the slightest misstep.

“Shattered Nirvana, pah! You old goat,” Sima Nan muttered, scrambling to his feet. “Just you wait! One day, I’ll show you what it’s like to be boiled alive!” He retreated to the foot of the glacial prison, resuming his meditative breathing, though his heart seethed.

A subtle smile played upon the elder’s lips. Over these two years, he had grown fond of the wayward Sima Nan. Though he intervened to prevent the youth from absorbing the glacial energy, it was for his own good. His interventions were always measured, never intended to cause harm.

“I shall await that day with anticipation,” the elder chuckled, his eyes twinkling.

“You just wait,” Sima Nan grumbled, rolling his eyes. Deep down, he knew the elder acted in his best interest, yet the relentless heat was unbearable. More than that, his freedom had been curtailed. Memories of his princely life before surged forth, prompting mournful sighs and wistful recollections.

“And you harpies of the Phoenix Orchid Star, your reckoning will come as well!”

A thunderclap echoed through the desolate expanse, fading into the distance.

Far away, a figure known as Wang Lin inhaled deeply. His hands moved in swift, intricate gestures, and the alabaster stone beneath him glowed, emitting waves of searing heat that flowed into his body.

Behind him stood an even more ancient figure, his face ashen, his aura heavy with the chill of death. His voice, a mere rasp, betrayed his failing strength. “I fear my time draws short… I pray that before I depart this world, you will master the Nine Mysteries’ First Transformation. Only then can I entrust the fate of the Vermillion Bird Sect to you with a peaceful heart.”

“Only by mastering the First Transformation can you wield our Sect’s ancient, sacred artifact.”

Wang Lin withdrew his hands, the heat receding into his core. He exhaled slowly, opening eyes that defied description. They were like twin stars, brilliant and all-encompassing, capable of humbling any gaze that met their own. Within their depths lay the wisdom of ages, the power to discern all things.

“Rest assured, Sacred Emperor,” Wang Lin said, his voice calm and resolute. “I will do all within my power.”

“You spoke of your suspicion that the Azure Dragon Sacred Emperor is trapped within the Rain Immortal Realm. This is grave news indeed… But the opening of the Rain Immortal Realm lies within the dominion of the Cultivation Alliance. They have obtained the majority of its ancient secrets and hold the Rain Immortal Crystals, without which it cannot be entered.

“Our Four Sacred Sects do not yet possess the strength to challenge the Alliance. I will endeavor to acquire the Rain Immortal Crystals. Once obtained, the task of rescuing the Azure Dragon Sacred Emperor will fall to you.”

The elder’s voice was heavy with exhaustion. His spirit was weary from countless trials and the torment of the Third Celestial Tribulation. It was only his unwavering dedication to the Four Sacred Sects that kept him tethered to this realm.

“Do you have any word of my brother, Clear Water?” Wang Lin asked, pausing before resuming his meditation.

“The name of Clear Water Immortal Lord was renowned in my day. The Four Sacred Sects have exerted every effort to trace his path, but the last confirmed sighting placed him within the central region of the Alliance Star System, near their headquarters.”

“I suspect the Alliance’s two-year lockdown is connected to Clear Water!” the elder replied after a moment’s reflection.