For months the rain had fallen, an unending torrent that weighed heavily upon the hearts of the Gui Yuan Sect disciples. The ceaseless patter, the oppressive blanket of grey, seemed impossible to dispel.

Ten days had passed since Wang Lin arrived at the Gui Yuan Sect.

Sun Yun had long since returned from her master’s side. In the intervening days, she had secretly investigated the thirty-one mortals brought from the north, but her efforts bore no fruit.

She had also observed Wang Lin, yet found nothing amiss.

Even her master, Lü Yanfei, deeply concerned by the matter, had personally invoked her powers, seeking some clue. But the results were the same.

In Sun Yun’s mind, the image of the white-haired figure did not fade with time, but grew ever more vivid. Often, she would awaken from meditative slumber in the dead of night, the white-robed specter and its single, masterful finger ever before her eyes.

“Who is he?” This question relentlessly plagued her.

One afternoon, Sun Yun opened her door. Raindrops spat from the eaves, a few striking her face. With a delicate frown, she lifted a hand of jade to wipe them away, her beauty tinged with a hint of troubled grace. She stepped outside.

Rain danced harmlessly, half a zhang from her form, as if deflected by an invisible shield that channeled the water away. Walking through the courtyard, Sun Yun gazed at the various medicinal herbs planted there. Suddenly, she looked up toward the dwelling where Wang Lin resided.

He was her first suspect! Yet, these past days, the youth called Zeng Niu had seemed no more than a true mortal, distinguished only by his composure and calm.

For reasons she could not explain, Sun Yun found herself drawn to his abode. She hesitated outside for a moment, then, her brow furrowed, thrust the door open.

“You were charged with tending these herbs. Have you so much as glanced at them these past days?” Sun Yun’s eyes fixed upon Wang Lin, who sat by a small table within, engrossed in a scroll of wood. Of late, his presence stirred within her an unease, disrupting the tranquility she knew as a Yin Void cultivator.

Wang Lin set aside the scroll he had borrowed from the Gui Yuan Sect’s archives. It contained no secret arts, being readily available to all new initiates. Within its pages was recorded the history of the Moro Continent, and a simple introduction to the Sea of Clouds Star Region.

These scrolls were intended to grant newcomers a better understanding of the cultivation world and the Sea of Clouds, that they might grasp the immensity of all that lay beyond and thus, cultivate with greater zeal.

While perusing the scroll, Wang Lin’s mind was not entirely consumed by its contents. He was also pondering matters of alchemy and spirit beasts.

Casting a perfunctory glance at Sun Yun, Wang Lin remained seated. “Has any herb withered, lost a single leaf?” he asked slowly.

Sun Yun paused. The herbs had, in truth, flourished even more than before. Some, which she had all but given up as lost, had miraculously revived.

Wang Lin said nothing more, retrieving the scroll and resuming his reading.

The more he behaved in this manner, the more Sun Yun’s brow furrowed. She stepped into the room, and a delicate fragrance filled the small space. Wang Lin was familiar with this scent, having detected it near her meditation site.

“That the herbs did not die has nothing to do with you. It is merely that this place is rich in spiritual energy, and these plants are of a watery nature, allowing them to absorb the power of Heaven and Earth within the rain,” Sun Yun stated coldly, her eyes locked upon Wang Lin.

“Oh,” Wang Lin replied casually, scarcely glancing at her. He turned the wooden scroll to continue reading.

“Zeng Niu!” Sun Yun’s beautiful eyes widened at his dismissive attitude.

Wang Lin frowned, placing the scroll down once more and looking coolly at Sun Yun.

A storm of words gathered on Sun Yun’s tongue, ready to lash out, but as her gaze met Wang Lin’s, she swallowed her rebuke. Her expression faltered.

“It is my duty to ensure these herbs do not perish. If you have no other purpose, I would appreciate it if you did not disturb me.” Wang Lin’s voice was flat, and without another glance, he picked up the scroll once more. Under his gaze, Sun Yun’s heart inexplicably trembled.

“Could it be him?”

Sun Yun remained silent for a moment, offering Wang Lin a final, profound look. She pursed her lips and turned, leaving the room.

Late that night, an oil lamp flickered upon the table. Outside, darkness reigned, punctuated only by the hiss of rain and the distant thunder that followed fleeting flashes of lightning.

The wind, sweeping through the mountains, gathered into swirling eddies within the Gui Yuan Sect basin, whispering through the trees. Wang Lin set aside the wooden scroll, closed his eyes, and pondered.

From the scroll’s vague descriptions, he had gleaned much. He had gained a rough understanding of the Sea of Clouds. More importantly, through days of contemplation and study of a jade slip he’d viewed four days prior, his understanding of alchemy had deepened. Opening his eyes, Wang Lin lifted his gaze, as if to pierce the walls of his dwelling, soaring upward through the falling rain and the serpent-like lightning, to fix upon the heights of the Gui Yuan Sect.

The floating Daoist temple, supported by eight colossal pillars of stone!

From that temple, Wang Lin could clearly sense a surge of not inconsiderable qi.

With a flicker, he vanished from the room, appearing an instant later atop one of the stone pillars, outside the temple’s doors! Here, the winds and rains of the heavens unleashed their full fury, and the roars of thunder boomed with vengeful intensity.

Wang Lin remained unperturbed. He pushed open the temple doors and stepped within.

The temple was small. Aside from a few scattered ornaments, the most striking feature was a vast spatial rift in the very center, pulsing with purple light that bathed the room in an ethereal glow. Behind the rift, a rack shimmered with protective enchantments. Upon it rested three items:

A long sword, a jade slip, and a single pill.

The moment Wang Lin entered the temple, the purple light from the rift intensified, and a massive serpentine head emerged, its tongue flickering, its eyes fixed upon Wang Lin.

The serpent’s scales were pitch-black, its eyes burning with an intense purple fire. Under that gaze, most would have felt their minds tremble. But Wang Lin was unaffected.

Without even acknowledging the purple-eyed serpent, Wang Lin strode forward. The creature hissed, fear creeping into its gaze as it recoiled, allowing Wang Lin to pass unharmed.

Four days prior, Wang Lin had already ventured to this place. Were the serpent to be judged by cultivation alone, it would be a match for a late-stage Nirvana Scrying cultivator, but Wang Lin knew that he could slay it with ease.

There was no great struggle, he had nearly decapitated the serpent, but decided that as he was to dwell within the Gui Yuan Sect for some time, it would be unwise to slay their guardian beast so soon after his arrival. Thus, he had spared its life.

Reaching the rack, he waved his hand, and the enchantments faded. Wang Lin took the jade slip and studied it once more. The Gui Yuan Sect’s cultivation techniques and powers held little interest, but the descriptions of spirit beasts and alchemy drew his attention.

After yet another careful examination, Wang Lin’s eyes shone with understanding. He set down the slip and picked up the pill, an unassuming thing. He had not noted any particular properties when he first saw it four days ago.

But now, after studying and pondering the arts of alchemy, he had returned to claim this pill.

“According to the slip, in this Sea of Clouds Star Region, spirit beasts are ranked in thirteen tiers. Pills made with spirit beast souls are likewise divided into thirteen tiers. This, left behind by the ancestor of the Gui Yuan Sect, is a Soul Separating Pill of the eighth tier. But alas, it is a flawed thing, for it lacks the essence of an eighth-tier spirit beast!” Wang Lin’s eyes shone with regret.

Through his study of the jade slip, he had begun to understand the core of alchemical practices in the Sea of Clouds. His return to this temple was to verify his suspicions.

Looking now at the pill in his hand, he knew he was right.

He sighed softly, placing the pill down. He would not take these treasures, heirlooms of the Gui Yuan Sect’s founder. He would not commit such an act, severing the fate of the sect, not when there was no enmity between them. His cultivation was above such petty things.

To see was enough!

“Now, I must personally practice alchemy as it is done in the Sea of Clouds, to refine pills. Within this Star Region, my goal is to increase my cultivation by any means!” Wang Lin’s eyes flashed with determination. He was about to leave when he suddenly looked up, his eyes blazing with a strange light.

Far to the west, along the borders of the Moro Continent, flashes of lightning illuminated the sky, and muffled booms echoed, as if someone was bombarding the world from without.

The Moro Continent floated in the Sea of Clouds Star Region, shielded by the gentle light emanating from a black pagoda. This pagoda, besides repelling some of the star mist, served as a protective barrier.

It protected not only the cultivators within, but also, and more importantly, against the countless savage beasts of the Sea of Clouds! In the Sea of Clouds Star Region, beasts were of two types: those domesticated by cultivators, known as spirit beasts, and those that roamed the star mist, locked in eternal conflict with cultivators, known as savage beasts!

Now, the protective light of the black pagoda on the western borders of the Moro Continent twisted and buckled under the onslaught. At last, with a deafening crash that drowned out the thunder and the rain, it shattered!

The roar that split the heavens immediately overwhelmed the sounds of thunder and rain, echoing across the entire Moro Continent, and reaching clearly to the Gui Yuan Sect!

A vast beast, hundreds of zhang tall and pitch-black, slowly forced its way through the shattered barrier, its form resembling that of a *zhen*, its shadow flickering amidst the lightning.

Had it been alone, this beast could not have pierced the barrier of the Moro Continent. But atop its back, an arrogant old man slowly withdrew his right hand. Around his hand swirled a violet wind.