“Kindle the fragrant incense!” the ancient Vermilion Bird declared, his playful demeanor vanishing in a sudden tide of solemnity. His very presence radiated authority, a weight of command that echoed through the air, interwoven with an undeniable sense of dominion.

It seemed the very laws of existence bent to his will. At his pronouncement, three colossal, unlit incense sticks, each a hundred spans thick and thousands of spans in length, erupted from the colossal turtle’s back. These were crafted of a pale, ethereal stone, pointing heavenward like silent sentinels. From afar, the immense tortoise appeared as a living altar, upon which these fragrant titans stood in mute anticipation. “This trial for the Heir Apparent of the Forsaken Lands is straightforward,” the Vermilion Bird continued. “These three incense sticks represent the three realms: Heaven, Earth, and Man. You shall enter each with your soul, and ignite them! The task itself is not complex, but the perils are twofold. First, kindling these incense sticks is fraught with danger! Second, once lit, these pale incense sticks, despite their immense size, will be consumed in the blink of an eye. Your task is to burn them as slowly as possible! And you must, before they are utterly reduced to ash, wrench your soul free and return to your mortal form!”

The Vermilion Bird’s gaze burned into Wang Lin, his expression grave. “Every trial holds peril. If you falter, so be it. But once lit, should you fail to escape before its consumption, your soul will be trapped within, consumed by the fire. While I would not allow you to truly perish, I would be greatly disappointed.”

“Throughout the ages, only two have succeeded. I was the first. Before you, another possessed peerless talent, holding the first incense for five breaths, the second for nine, and the third for a staggering fourteen. Even I cannot match such skill.” The Vermilion Bird’s eyes blazed, piercing Wang Lin. “Do you dare attempt this trial? Answer me!”

“What is there to fear?” Wang Lin replied, his voice steady, his face calm.

“Excellent! I anticipate a third surprise!” The Vermilion Bird roared with laughter. A wave of his hand conjured a furious gust of wind, engulfing Wang Lin and hurtling him like a bolt of lightning toward the vast turtle’s back.

As Wang Lin approached the first incense stick on the left, Si Mozi’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of hidden malice dancing within them. His face was marred with a livid purple, the mark of the Vermilion Bird’s casual contempt, defying even his most potent arts. He dared not openly defy the ancient beast, but his murderous intent toward Wang Lin burned with greater intensity. “This trial of the Forsaken Lands has been studied extensively by the Elder Council,” Si Mozi sneered inwardly. “This whelp’s cultivation is far too weak to succeed!”

Beside him, the High Priestess Yun Luo stood, her face a mask of cold calculation. Her fingers danced in a silent ritual within her sleeve, a hidden divination, her eyes subtly flicking toward the distant Venerable Miao Yin.

The Venerable Miao Yin, perched upon a cloud, squinted, a peculiar light gleaming in her eyes. “This whelp must be Wang Lin, spoken of by Dao Child Shui… Has the Venerable of the Sealed Realm not perished? Shui should not dare to deceive, but I must tread carefully. I intervened then for the generous rewards offered by the Elder Council, but now… they must be willing to pay dearly for my assistance.” She sighed softly, watching Wang Lin’s descent. “I underestimated him. He brought ruin to the Flash Thunder Clan and forged such a deep connection with the Forsaken Lands. As one of the Five Ancients, I bear the burden of protecting the Ancient Star, yet this boy and Yue’er…” Her gaze softened as she glanced at her daughter beside her, a hint of conflict shadowing her eyes. “I care not for the Elder Council, nor even the Grand Venerable upon his return. However, if Meng’er were to ask, what should I do?” The memory of his wife’s departure, her transformation into a stranger, pierced his heart.

The elder clad in beast hides remained impassive, his eyes tightly shut, as if all the world’s affairs paled in comparison to a confrontation with the Vermilion Bird. The colossal lizard beneath him exhaled twin plumes of vapor from its nostrils, its reptilian eyes narrowed in equal disinterest.

Below, tens of thousands of cultivators stilled, their gazes fixed upon Wang Lin as he approached the first incense stick. Thoughts and emotions churned beneath the surface. “He is fortunate to have gained the favor of the First Heir Apparent, but this trial is perilous. He will surely fail!”

“Even the First Elder of the Fallen Life Sect, with his cultivation at the Fifth Decay of Heaven and Man, dared not attempt this trial. Though favored by the Great Emperor and the First Heir Apparent, success is a delusion.”

Under the gaze of the thousands gathered at the Great Emperor Star, Wang Lin reached the first colossal incense stick, landing upon the turtle’s shell. In comparison to the monolithic structure, he was but a speck. The incense stick towered like a mountain, emanating a subtle fragrance that invigorated the mind. Wang Lin inhaled deeply, raising his hand and placing it upon the ancient stone. The moment his palm made contact, his eyes closed, and his body stilled. *Soul follows incense… the first trial, the illusion of the realm of Man.* A symphony of flowing water reached his ears, interwoven with the distant murmur of a bustling city, its sounds growing ever clearer until they drowned out the water’s gentle song.

Above, the sky stretched, an expanse of exquisite azure silk adorned with scattered puffs of pristine white clouds. But it was strangely unreal. Wang Lin stood upon a bridge, the river flowing beneath. In the distance, a few boats drifted, carrying whispers of distant music. On either side, a bustling street teemed with faceless figures. He felt as if he had stumbled into a dream, where nothing possessed any true substance. Even the bridge beneath his feet seemed ephemeral, on the verge of vanishing. Everything in this realm was a phantom, save for himself.

This was a humble mortal city, crowded with people, where merchants hawked their wares in a ceaseless chorus. But all remained obscured, separated from him. “So this is the first trial…” Wang Lin mused, turning to leave the bridge. But he froze, his head snapping back toward the river. A great boat glided toward him, carrying a young man with a wine cup in hand. Before him, dancers swirled; behind him, attendants stood in silent servitude. “Heaven and Earth are but a temporary inn for all things. Time, a fleeting guest for a hundred generations. Life is but a dream! How much joy can one find? How much joy is there to be found?” The youth laughed, his voice seemingly weak, yet brimming with a wild abandon. He drained his cup. Wang Lin had perceived everything around him as blurred and indistinct, but the moment his eyes landed upon the young man, his features sharpened with unnerving clarity, a stark contrast to the surrounding obscurity. At that moment, Wang Lin froze, his mind reeling. He knew that face, intimately knew it. It was almost… *Yesterday’s weariness extends into today, against my will. This chapter is a thousand words short. I will repay it double on another day. Forgive me.*