The two elders, their souls cleansed in the late Nirvana stage, exchanged a glance before fixing their gaze upon the last among them, an elder barely touched by the Shattered Nirvana. He was, it seemed, their leader.

This venerable man gazed upon Wang Lin, his expression serene, yet his heart stirred with profound shock. To slay Ren Tao with two fingers he could accomplish, but he was a Shattered Nirvana cultivator. This Wang Lin, however, was “plainly merely at the pinnacle of the Peering Nirvana stage.”

This forced him to regard the man before him with newfound respect. More importantly…

“The Nine Transformations of Xuan!” The elder’s mind quivered. He glanced about, and saw that within the ranks of the Vermillion Bird Holy Sect, nearly every elder’s gaze was fixed upon him. An invisible pressure weighed upon him, and after a moment of silence, the elder spoke, his voice calm:

“Hail the Holy Emperor!”

At these words, the two elders beside him inwardly sighed with relief, and cupped their fists in salute.

“Hail the Holy Emperor.”

Following their lead, those loyal to the three elders bowed their heads in reverence, voices rising in unison.

“Hail the Holy Emperor!” In an instant, the voices of nearly all within the star-strewn sky echoed as one. The voices of tens of thousands resonated, becoming a thunderous roar that shook the very heavens.

Wang Lin’s face remained impassive. Though surrounded by the chorus of obeisance, he knew that many among them harbored dissent. His cultivation, after all, was not yet sufficient to command the full respect of the Vermillion Bird Holy Sect. But such matters were of little consequence to him. Wang Lin’s heart was not within this sect.

At this moment, amid the echoing hails and the throng of Vermillion Bird disciples surrounding Wang Lin, there were a few absent, their hearts filled with a complex mix of emotions.

The first was Tarsan. He did not seek out Wang Lin, but remained in his former place, silently watching the sky. Though from his cultivation star he could not see Wang Lin, he could faintly sense the echoing cries of “Hail the Holy Emperor” resounding around him in the distant void.

His expression was fraught with conflict, and after a long silence, he sighed and closed his eyes, returning to his meditation.

Yet the turmoil within his heart refused to subside.

Another was similarly affected. This man sat atop a crumbling city wall upon a distant cultivation star, surrounded by a chaotic scattering of overturned wine jugs. He clutched one in his hand, taking a deep draught, his face etched with sorrow.

Compared to the raucous celebration surrounding Wang Lin, the elder cut a solitary figure, seemingly indifferent to all that transpired. Ling’er, in silent vigil, kept him company in this desolation.

Beyond Tarsan and the Dust Taoist, there was another whose heart was in turmoil within the burning starfield. It was Xu Liguo. Trapped within a vortex of flame, his curses echoed once more, seemingly without end.

“That damned Wang Lin! When are you going to release your grandfather Xu! You just wait! You just wait and see!”

In the following two days, the elders of the remaining three Holy Sects arrived, offering congratulations on Wang Lin’s ascension as the Vermillion Bird Holy Emperor. A festive air permeated the entire Vermillion Bird Sect. Wang Lin treated the elders of the Azure Dragon, Black Tortoise, and White Tiger Sects with utmost courtesy. The four Holy Sects shared a common origin, and these elders had witnessed Wang Lin’s prowess in the Land of the Demonic Spirits. Meeting him now, they harbored no arrogance due to his Peering Nirvana cultivation.

After polite exchanges, the elders of the three sects were lodged comfortably. They held the new Holy Emperor in high regard.

In particular, the three Grand Elders of the Azure Dragon Holy Sect were exceedingly respectful towards Wang Lin. They had learned of the Azure Dragon Holy Emperor’s fate three years prior from Wang Lin himself, and they were profoundly grateful for the news he bore.

The Emperor’s ascension required a grand ceremony, a tradition of the four Holy Sects. Wang Lin saw no reason to alter it, and the date was set for the sixth day.

In these days, Wang Lin should have been exceedingly busy, with little time for rest. He needed to familiarize himself with all matters concerning the Vermillion Bird Holy Sect, particularly as many of the sect’s elders did not fully accept him, acknowledging him only under the late Holy Emperor’s command.

But Wang Lin did not. His agreement to become the Holy Emperor of the Vermillion Bird Sect was, in its earliest form, merely a bargain with the old Holy Emperor.

In the subsequent three years, the old Holy Emperor’s imparting of all his knowledge was a kindness, despite its transactional nature. For Wang Lin, such kindness required repayment.

Yet, Wang Lin knew his own fate. He could not remain in one place for long. Especially in these three years, he had often felt unease during meditation, as if a foreboding sensation emanated from the void.

Such feelings, if only a few times, would have been dismissed, but as time passed, Wang Lin had experienced it no less than ten times over three years, and the feeling grew clearer. It seemed to emanate from the location of the Vermillion Bird Star.

Wang Lin knew well that as his cultivation grew, he gained a sense of precognition for danger. Clearly, this ever-increasing sense of crisis came from Tuosen! The ancient god’s roar, from when Wang Lin left the ancient god’s land over a thousand years ago, faintly echoed in his mind.

“One day, I will come for you and reclaim the inheritance of Tusi’s Memories!”

“Lason will soon emerge…” Wang Lin sat cross-legged on the edge of a volcano of this main star. Below him, the volcano belched forth thick, rolling smoke, carrying with it searing flames.

Tuosen was like a sword hanging over Wang Lin’s head, ready to strike at any moment. In these thousand years, Wang Lin could not ignore this danger. As his true form reached five stars, and with the aid of the memory inheritance of the powerful eight-star ancient god, he analyzed Tuosen’s strength in detail.

The results of his analysis shook his soul.

With such a powerful enemy ready to break free and scour the world for him, Wang Lin could not possibly reside in comfort within the Vermillion Bird Holy Sect.

To do so would only lead to the destruction of the four Holy Sects at Tuosen’s hand.

After more than a thousand years of cultivation, Wang Lin was no longer the mere Core Formation cultivator of old. Though Tuosen was strong, Wang Lin was not without preparation.
“If the Immortal Emperor Qing Lin could be resurrected,” Wang Lin mused, his gaze sharp as obsidian, sweeping across the burning landscape below. “How would he fare against Tuo Sen?” The sacred grounds of the Vermilion Bird Sect were engulfed in flames, a crimson sea reflecting in his eyes.

“The Old Sacred Emperor’s grace, I repay for now with the rescue of the Azure Dragon Sacred Emperor. Should I evade Tuo Sen’s pursuit and attain power enough to vanquish La Sen, I will repay the Old Sacred Emperor in full, ensuring the Vermilion Bird Sect’s safety and restoring its former glory… But should I fall beneath Tuo Sen’s hand…” He fell silent, a bitter grimace etching itself upon his face as he gazed at the horizon.

“La Sen… I will not allow him to escape so easily. All mortals harbor greed. I wonder how many will be tempted by an Eight-Star Ancient God…” A chilling smile played on his lips.

At that very moment, a streak of fire blazed across the heavens, halting before Wang Lin as a crimson-robed elder materialized. His expression was serene as he addressed Wang Lin, “Sacred Emperor, emissaries from the Corpse Yin Sect, Luo Tian, and the Auspicious Cloud Kingdom await in the Vermilion Bird Rear Hall. Shall you receive them?”

This elder was not one of the Six Elders who ventured to the Demon Spirit Land years ago. Known only as Xu, his cultivation had reached the mid-stage of Fragmentation Nirvana, granting him considerable respect among the Vermilion Bird Sect’s elders.

In recent days, emissaries from various factions within the Alliance had arrived, bearing congratulations. Wang Lin had refused them all, leaving their reception to the elders and clansmen of the Vermilion Bird Sect.

But this was the first arrival of envoys from Luo Tian and the Corpse Yin Sect. Wang Lin pondered, the initial dismissal warring with the plan forming in his mind regarding La Sen.

“Let them come,” Wang Lin declared, rising to his feet, his voice calm yet resolute.

The elder Xu observed him closely. “Sacred Emperor,” he began, his tone even, “may Xu dare inquire as to your intentions upon assuming this mantle? This question is not mine alone, but that of many elders. We implore you to speak plainly and ease our doubts.”

“Rescue the Azure Dragon Sacred Emperor!” With those words, Wang Lin turned from the elder, transforming into a streak of light that shot towards the horizon.

Elder Xu reeled, his face paling as he watched Wang Lin vanish. “Azure Dragon Sacred Emperor!” He gasped, his mind reeling. Those four words struck him like a thunderbolt.

Beyond the Old Sacred Emperor and the three Great Elders of the Azure Dragon Sect, none were privy to the fate of the Azure Dragon Sacred Emperor. The revelation was a tidal wave crashing over Xu’s understanding.

For the first time, he felt a profound and unsettling sense of Wang Lin’s unfathomable depths.

The Vermilion Bird Rear Hall, crafted entirely from scarlet jade, stood as a beacon against the fiery landscape. Surrounding it, ancient trees with crimson leaves stood sentinel, their branches intertwined above a pathway paved with stones the color of blood.

An oppressive heat radiated from within the hall, permeating the air.

Inside, sat three figures: two men and a woman.

The woman, possessed of a captivating beauty, wore a gown of sapphire silk, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. Her eyes danced with a subtle allure as she observed the two men across from her. One was a wizened elder cloaked in crimson robes, exuding an aura of immense power. The very air around him seemed to twist and distort, as if he were a being out of place, further emphasizing his formidable cultivation. The other was a bald-headed man, seemingly unremarkable in a simple tunic of green cloth. His face was placid, though a fleeting expression of bewilderment flickered in his eyes before vanishing.

Yet, the woman noticed that each time the bald man’s gaze became vacant, the very essence of the surrounding world seemed to falter.

Were Wang Lin to behold them, he would recognize them both.

A young clansman of the Vermilion Bird Sect entered, bearing a tray laden with tea and fruit, placing it before the three visitors before retreating.

The alluring woman lifted a cup, blowing gently upon the surface before turning towards the crimson-robed elder. “You must be Venerable Lie Yunzi of the Luo Tian Starfield,” she purred, her voice like honeyed wine. “I am Li Yingzhi of the Corpse Yin Sect. It is an honor, Venerable.”