Retreating swiftly, Wang Lin’s gaze, sharp as honed steel, remained fixed upon the fading form of the colossal tortoise. Not until the beast had dissolved entirely into the ethereal fabric of the Great Emperor Star did a triumphant fire ignite within his eyes.

“Never did I dream that within this star, an Ancient Soul Seal lay hidden!” Wang Lin gasped, drawing a deep breath that shuddered through his frame. It took considerable effort to quell the tumultuous excitement that threatened to consume him. He *could not* remain unmoved, for the implications were too profound.

Should he master all four Great Seals, and by some unimaginable stroke of fortune, fuse them together, he might glimpse the very essence of Sealing Arts. And should he truly succeed, Wang Lin’s fundamental power would no longer be a mere five Dao, but… six!

Six fundamental paths!

Such a feat, were word to spread across the cosmos, would send tremors through the hearts of all cultivators. Even the aloof and mighty Third Step cultivators would stare in disbelief, for those who understood the nature of fundamental power knew the true significance of possessing six.

Five Daos were already a wonder to behold, but to add another, to ascend to six, would be nothing short of earth-shattering. Yet, he knew that achieving true mastery over six Daos would multiply the already daunting challenge countless times over.

“The Shattering Seal, the Seal of Life and Death, the Seal of Ages… all I have claimed. Though time has been scant for their full exploration, should I now acquire this Ancient Soul Seal, my quartet of powers would be made whole… and then…”

Wang Lin’s heart hammered against his ribs, a drumbeat of anticipation. This good fortune, this unexpected blessing, had descended upon him without warning, catching him utterly unprepared.

“What manner of being was this Great Emperor, that he could weave an Ancient Soul Seal into the very fabric of a contest arena?” He felt a deep unease stir within him at the thought of the enigmatic emperor.

“Did he foresee my arrival? Did he orchestrate this encounter, predicting my inevitable attraction to this forbidden art?” Wang Lin fell silent, the fervor of his excitement slowly waning as calculation took its place.

“This Great Emperor Star… it is a place of riddles. A lack of a celestial wind barrier, strange and unfamiliar vegetation, and now, the Ancient Soul Seal…” With a swift motion, Wang Lin descended upon the sparsely vegetated northwestern region.

The ground beneath his feet was a barren expanse of grey earth. Kneeling, Wang Lin scooped a handful of the soil, examining it intently. A frown slowly etched itself upon his face as his unease grew.

A distant roar filled the air as celestial lights streaked across the sky. It was Shao, followed by other emissaries of the Great Emperor, bringing a fresh wave of cultivators in Wang Lin’s wake.

Casting a single, fleeting glance towards the approaching figures, Wang Lin turned and vanished in a blur, reappearing upon a colossal leaf, one of countless that carpeted the eastern reaches of the star, a realm of teeming vegetation.

There, he settled into a meditative pose, his gaze fixed upon the handful of grey earth he still held, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“This soil… it appears ordinary, yet I sense something amiss…” His eyes closed, and his mind drifted back to a time long past, to when, during one of the Heaven Defying Bead’s rare openings, he had ventured a single foot within, becoming one with the very essence of Chaos. He had floated within a sea of nothingness, eventually coalescing into a nascent cultivation star.

The memory was etched deeply within him. That experience had granted him a hazy understanding of many things.

He recalled vividly how, after becoming a cultivation star, he had endured countless ages. Volcanic eruptions upon his surface had spewed forth molten matter from his core, covering his entirety. Over eons, these materials had weathered into fine particles, ultimately forming the very soil that now sustained him.

It was within this soil that the first, most primitive forms of vegetation had taken root. Through cycles of death and rebirth, the soil had gradually gained a semblance of life, intertwining with the very essence of the star.

“Cultivation stars in their infancy possess no soil… soil is something that gradually forms afterwards… which means the lifespan of soil varies, and is always less than the lifespan of the star itself.”

Wang Lin’s eyes snapped open, a peculiar light shining within their depths. He stared at the soil in his hand, then whispered after a long silence, “Flowing Moon…”

An aura of great age suddenly emanated from him, enveloping the earth in his grasp. It was as if he sought to trace the passage of time, to witness the very birth of the soil.

But the soil’s creation lay so far in the past that Wang Lin’s power was insufficient to fully grasp it. However, he could still discern a few clues.

After a time, Wang Lin waved his hand, scattering the earth to the wind. Then, with a swift movement, he appeared beneath the sprawling canopy of vegetation, scooping another handful of soil from the ground below, and again invoking the art of Flowing Moon.

After a long while, Wang Lin released the earth, letting it fall from his grasp. Understanding dawned within his eyes.

“If this soil were formed naturally, its age would vary, with some portions older than others… but the soil here seems to have been born all at once, its lifespan uniform throughout! There are only two explanations for such a thing.”

“The first is that the star’s volcanoes erupted simultaneously across its surface in some bygone era, shortly after the star’s birth, wiping out everything and forming the earth… but this doesn’t quite hold true. The primitive vegetation that imbued the soil with life could not have appeared and died simultaneously…”

“If that conjecture is false, then only one possibility remains… everything here was created artificially, eons ago, through divine powers beyond comprehension!” Wang Lin inhaled sharply. Even as a cultivator of vast power, he could scarcely imagine the sheer might required to fashion a cultivation star from the void itself!

Shaking his head to dispel the improbable notion, Wang Lin conceded that even he found his own theory hard to believe. He did not know that were his deduction to be revealed to others, it would incite absolute astonishment.

For it was unheard of for a cultivator to glean so much from such paltry clues as a handful of dirt. Even if one possessed the ability to do so, one would be helpless without a complete understanding of the birth and death of a cultivation star.

Until this moment, Wang Lin was the first to use soil to unravel the origins of this cultivation sanctuary.

If the enigmatic Great Emperor were to discover Wang Lin’s insight, he would surely be taken aback. This feat, in his eyes, would be even more shocking than Wang Lin’s wonder at the creation of stars themselves.
The difference between cultivators lies not only in the depths of their power, but in the understanding of the Dao. The Dao, in truth, is a principle, a truth woven into the fabric of existence. To grasp these principles, to know the cause and consequence of all things, and to wield the power that aligns with such knowledge… such a being is terrifying beyond comprehension.

Having brushed away the clinging earth, Wang Lin sat upon the gargantuan leaf, gazing at the mournful, grey sky. He was a man of contemplation, and it was through such deep thought that he had navigated the treacherous currents of his life, surviving crisis after crisis.

Though his words had been bold, even arrogant, when addressing Yun Luo, Grand Scribe of the Eternal Reverence Sect, and the enigmatic Si Mozi, Wang Lin held deep reservations within his heart. He knew not what the Grand Emperor sought, but this did not prevent him from using the Emperor’s influence as a weapon, forging it into a part of his own strength.

Such tactics were invaluable in the brutal world of cultivation. For only those who knew how to harness the currents of power could find their desired destiny and purpose within this strange, multifaceted land.

Across the sky, streaks of light continued to tear through the air, signs of more and more entering the Grand Emperor Star. Wang Lin watched them come, his hand absently stroking the massive leaf beneath him.

Suddenly, he stilled. In that fleeting moment, as his fingers grazed the leaf’s surface, he felt a faint, uncontrollable drain upon his inner essence. A wisp of his own power, small and insignificant, escaped his hand and was drawn into the leaf.

Yet, upon closer inspection, he found nothing. It was as if the sensation had been a figment of his imagination.

He rose, eyes narrowed. Though he could find no tangible proof, a chill of unease settled within his soul. He ascended into the air, casting his gaze down upon the alien landscape below.

Endless vegetation swayed gently across the land.

“This Grand Emperor Star… it is permeated with the strange,” Wang Lin muttered. Unwilling to tread upon the leaves any longer, he transformed into a streak of light, soaring across the landscape, his divine sense spread wide, ever vigilant.

Dusk painted the sky, broken only by the occasional flashes of light as more cultivators arrived. As the light waned, Wang Lin spotted a lake nestled amidst a thicket of alien flora, and by its shore, a lone figure garbed in white robes.

An old man sat there, a simple fishing rod in hand, patiently waiting for a catch. A flagon of wine rested beside him.

Wang Lin’s eyes sharpened. This was the first being he had encountered, apart from the Grand Emperor’s emissaries and the incoming cultivators. After a moment of consideration, he descended slowly, landing a short distance behind the aged fisherman.

The old man ignored him, continuing to gaze at the still waters.

Wang Lin settled into a cross-legged position, offering no greeting. Silence settled between them, broken only by the faint whoosh of passing cultivators in the distance, sounds that blended seamlessly into the tranquility of the setting.

The water of the lake was pristine. Though the bottom remained hidden, one could discern that the lake was, alas, empty of fish.

The old man and the young cultivator sat in quiet contemplation, divided by the flagon of wine. Time flowed onward, until the darkness deepened and the moon ascended, bathing the landscape in its silvery light.

A gentle breeze stirred, rustling the foliage around the lake, but even this sound failed to disturb the pervasive serenity.

Subtle ripples danced across the water, as if the wind was stealing fragments of the moon and hiding them in the depths. Looking at the lake, one could not tell whether the moon hung in the sky or was buried in the water.

With the moon hanging in the sky and buried in the lake, it displayed a beautiful painting. Amidst all of that quiet, Wang Lin found his heart relax from all his travels.

“You… do you partake in the wine?” The old man finally asked.