The emerald expanse stretched endlessly, untouched by any mist, revealing distant vistas with stark clarity. Wang Lin, a blur of motion, traversed the edges of winding valleys, pausing at times to close his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration as if sensing the very veins of the world. Then, his eyes would snap open, and he would surge forward. The mountain range, a colossal wall, loomed ever closer, its shadow growing as time marched onward.

After nearly a day’s relentless travel, Wang Lin halted at the mouth of a valley. The towering mountains were now within arm’s reach; passage through this vale would bring him to their very base.

His gaze swept over the valley, a thoughtful frown creasing his face. An unsettling aura clung to the place. After a moment of intense scrutiny, his eyes flashed. With a swift hand gesture, a shimmering barrier materialized, woven from arcane energy. He then touched his forehead, and a thread of darkness emerged, writhing as it transformed into a glyph of power. This glyph, pulsating with dark light, floated forward, engulfing the area.

As the dark aura settled, a faint, luminous glow flickered across the verdant grass, slowly coalescing into a strange, flowery sigil – a design resembling a plum blossom. The instant he recognized it, Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed. “The Eighteen Petals of Plum Doom!”

This intricate weave of power was no ancient relic; it had been laid but a day before, undoubtedly by the old crone in green. The Eighteen Petals of Plum Doom, an advanced form of warding, was a derivative of the Primordial Ruin Seal, one of the legendary Four Forbidden Arts. Had Wang Lin not journeyed to the Luo Tian Starfield, such a formidable barrier would have been impenetrable.

But within the Luo Tian Starfield, Wang Lin had inherited the Primordial Ruin Seal. Thus, this derivative, the Eighteen Petals of Plum Doom, posed little true threat.

“The crone laid this here, likely as both a trap and an alarm…” Wang Lin’s eyes gleamed with thought. He was about to proceed, but his foot paused mid-step. He studied the Plum Doom inscription with renewed intensity, sensing that something was amiss.

Unleashing his full spiritual senses, Wang Lin meticulously scanned every inch of the ground before him. His expression darkened as he located a faint, almost imperceptible flicker of blackness at the very center of the plum blossom design. It reminded him of the old crone’s methods when she absorbed the dragon’s essence and unlocked the Ninefold Celestial Binding.

He had noticed the peculiarity of her enchantments before, but without a chance to examine them closely, he had gleaned little understanding. Now, with the valley’s ward laid bare before him, he finally comprehended.

“She’s using the life force of all living things to forge a seal of death. This… it bears a striking resemblance to the Primordial Lifebane Seal, another of the Four Forbidden Arts…” He pondered, then knelt, his right hand wreathed in spectral light. He carefully brushed aside the earth near a patch of grass. His eyes sharpened.

The roots of the grass were already decaying, its life force waning. In mere hours, it would be utterly devoid of vitality, and the trap would spring fully to life.

“The crone, with Cangsongzi at her side, lacked the time for intricate weaving. She simply laid a basic ward, designed to feed off the verdant life of this place. Once it’s consumed, the trap would activate,” Wang Lin murmured, his respect for the crone’s cunning growing.

“But the ward is only half-formed. Perhaps… rather than dispelling it, I could imprint my own power upon it while it remains incomplete. I could, without her knowing, lay claim to her own creation…” A cold smile touched Wang Lin’s lips. He stepped back, made a quick hand seal, and pointed forward. The dark aura of the Ruin Seal imprint flickered violently, then shattered, dissolving into motes of black light that scattered across the grass.

“By fusing my Ruin Seal and Lifebane Seal, I’ll unknowingly gift her a creation that will, should she unwittingly set foot within it, face the strength of two of the Four Forbidden Arts… Even Cangsongzi would suffer grievous harm!” He cautiously advanced, threading his way through the field of grass with painstaking care until he reached the entrance of the valley. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief.

Glancing around, Wang Lin’s gaze settled on the far end of the valley, where it met the imposing mountain range. The peaks rose at precipitous angles, hinting at a formidable, untamed nature.

Without hesitation, Wang Lin shot forward, scaling the mountainside with incredible speed. As he climbed, his thoughts returned to the Lifebane Seal and the words of Li Yuan.

“In the dawn of creation, rules took form. Over eons, they gave rise to a single path, known as Warding, or Binding, or simply a Barrier. Names may vary, but the essence remains. Divided by Heaven, Earth, Xuan, and Huang, these represent the fundamental levels of enchantment. But above even the celestial grades lies another realm, one we call Emptiness. Emptiness splits into four, forming the Four Forbidden Arts.”

“The Four Forbidden Arts – the Ruin Seal, the Lifebane Seal, the Ancient Soul Binding, and the enigmatic Time Ward. Even the enchantments of the Immortal Realms are born of these Four Forbidden Arts. ” Scaling the mountain, Wang Lin mused, “When I departed the Luo Tian Starfield, Li Yuan said that if one could master all four, and with great wisdom, one could glean the art of Emptiness from them… Emptiness is the pinnacle of all Warding! Yet, since the dawn of time, when Binding first split from the rules of creation, no one has ever managed to comprehend Emptiness.” With a sigh, Wang Lin abandoned these thoughts, focusing his full attention on tracking the trail of Cangsongzi and the crone.

Half a day passed. Bathed in the seven-hued light of the sky, Wang Lin stood atop the mountain’s highest peak. The light wove around him, making him seem like a deity descended from the heavens.

The immense mountain wall formed a complete ring, separating two distinct regions. A dense fog blanketed the area within, concealing all that lay beyond. It was like a sea of darkness, its surface stirred by unseen tides.

Gazing into the fog, Wang Lin could clearly sense Cangsongzi’s presence within. His eyes grew cold, and he leaped from the peak, descending the mountain towards the veiled depths.

Cangsongzi, clad in his divine demon armor, moved with extreme caution. Every step within the fog required intense concentration. The old crone in green, wreathed in shadowy energy, walked beside him. Silence reigned, broken only by the soft crunch of their footsteps.

“That man of the Lu family should be dead by now,” Cangsongzi thought, calculating the time. “Pang Decai is skilled in soul searches and should have found some reward, especially with the Spirit Shackling Mark. A great divine art of the God Sect!” He had collaborated with Pang Decai many times; a single glance was enough for them to understand each other’s intentions. “Pang Decai should be on his way.” His eyes flickered almost imperceptibly.

“Cangsongzi, how much further?” The old crone had remained silent until now.

“Not far. It should be just ahead,” Cangsongzi replied, but halted abruptly, and the crone paused as well, their eyes darting cautiously forward.

Dimly visible through the fog were the blurred forms of colossal stone statues. They seemed to shift and sway as the fog ebbed and flowed, as if they were in motion.

They exchanged a look and cautiously approached. They soon stood beneath the statues, craning their necks to gaze upwards. It was a stone figure, hundreds of feet tall, sculpted to resemble a man looking towards the heavens, a pensive expression on his face. On his brow was a mark shaped like a lightning bolt. “This is…” The crone gasped, staring at the mark. Her face suddenly paled.

Suddenly, ethereal voices echoed through the dense fog, eerie whispers filled with a soul-piercing energy. They came from everywhere and nowhere, impossible to pinpoint. “Remember the words… The path to imprison the heavens… All beings must endure countless trials… Leave the prison of deep attachment… Offer devotion to the path of true cultivation…” “Remember the words… All beings from beyond measure… Unravel the worldly confusion… Escape the idea of heaven… Obtain the path of rebirth… Offer devotion to the path of true cultivation…” “Remember the words… Lock the fate of the dying sky… Imprint the realm of darkness… Those who cannot find the true path will sink into endless suffering, forever lost. Offer devotion to the path of true cultivation…” These verses reverberated through the fog, weaving through the very air.

Cangsongzi’s face turned ashen, and he looked around in terror. The crone gasped, the eerie words lodging themselves in her mind, shaking her very soul and unsettling her resolve. “Who are they… What do these words mean?” the old crone asked Cangsongzi.

“They are the Rememberers…” Cangsongzi barely spoke before the fog churned, and a spectral figure darted forth, passing between the two like a cold gust of wind.

The haunting verses echoed through their minds.

“Cangsongzi, what is the meaning of the Rememberers?” The old crone’s face was pale, the verses echoing relentlessly in her mind.

“Lost ones, they have lost their own path, wandering aimlessly through this realm of seven colors, seeking meaning…” Cangsongzi said softly, his voice low. “Rememberers possess a realm of truth, but their minds shattered after glimpsing the Way, and they cannot be reformed. They linger within this fog, seeking endlessly… They may be dead, leaving only a lingering obsession.”

“The Way?” the old crone breathed, her eyes gleaming with intensity.

Cangsongzi looked up, his eyes filled with fevered excitement. “Yes, the Way! I never heard of it before finding this realm, but through countless clues, I learned of it… A scripture formed from the very blood of Heaven itself…”

“Is that what they are speaking of?” The crone inhaled sharply. The knowledge she had uncovered was earth-shattering.