## Chapter 1416: The Accursed Vermillion Bird of Three Generations

Within the Heavenly Domain, Wang Lin gazed intently at the colossal statue that dominated the world before him.

The statue’s likeness was exceedingly strange. Never had Wang Lin beheld such a visage. It bore little resemblance to a cultivator; rather, it seemed as if the Vermillion Bird itself had taken on mortal form.

After a moment of thoughtful silence, Wang Lin clasped his hands in reverence, bowing deeply toward the likeness. “This humble descendant, a Vermillion Bird of the Sixth Generation, pays respects to the Ancient Ancestor.”

At the instant his words echoed through the domain, the nine-hued flames blazing upon the statue’s brow surged with violent intensity, erupting in a radiant cascade of multicolored fire that enveloped all around. And from behind its closed eyelids, a glimmer of light flickered.

“To awaken four times with such a meager bloodline, you are… commendable,” a resonant voice, filled with ancient power, boomed through the heavens and the earth.

“Ancestor…” Wang Lin began, his expression serene, prepared to speak further.

“Pose your questions within the trial. My wounds from ages past remain unhealed, and my awakening is fleeting. For every five breaths you endure within this trial, you shall be granted the chance to ask one question!” The dispassionate voice cut him off, brooking no interruption.

As the decree was uttered, a fiery inferno erupted beneath Wang Lin’s seated form. The flames, wavering between illusion and reality, underwent nine rapid transformations, each shift amplifying their destructive power exponentially.

“These are not ethereal flames, but the very fire of my divine essence. In my time, these flames were known as the Vermillion Bird’s Forest of Hellfire.”

While Wang Lin faced the trial, within the Ancient Tomb of the Primordial Star, a hundred-zhang fissure belched forth an ancient and sorrowful aura, which permeated the Primordial Star, stirring the cosmos. This aura spread inexorably, drawing in all the motes of dust within its vast reach.

The accumulated dust swirled, growing into a raging storm, a vortex of celestial debris spiraling around the fissure. From afar, it resembled a spinning nebula.

The maw of the storm widened, consuming all in its path, shaking the very foundations of the Primordial Star. A dread power emanated from the heart of the vortex, threatening to annihilate all life. Even desolate, long-abandoned stars found their trajectories altered by the vortex’s insatiable hunger, crashing into its depths to be pulverized into stardust, fuel for the storm’s unholy growth.

Far to the north of the Primordial Star, nineteen celestial spheres, once havens of cultivation, were aligned in a perfect line. Upon the tenth sphere, centered in the alignment, a world almost entirely covered in water, a lone figure sat in profound meditation within the ocean’s fathomless depths.

He was an ancient cultivator, his white hair floating upon the currents. With each breath, the ocean surrounding him would roar, sending monstrous waves crashing outward, echoing through the void.

The moment the Ancient Tomb cracked open, unleashing the chaotic vortex, the ancient cultivator’s eyes snapped open, revealing abyssal depths mirroring the sea itself.

“Something is amiss!” the cultivator hissed, his gaze sharp. He hesitated for a moment, lost in thought.

“Upon the Emperor Star, I cannot seize the Heavenly Jewel. I shall deal with that later… My Avatar! Return swiftly! Investigate the source of this vortex and tell me what you find!”

This ancient one was none other than the Myriad Sound Daoist, one of the Primordial Five. The graceful young noble seen upon the Emperor Star was merely one of his three Avatars. Simultaneously, beyond the Land of the Fallen, an enormous, ovoid beast, its size rivaling that of a celestial sphere, drifted through the void, its countless tentacles undulating. Upon its back, an old man with a yin-yang face, who had been lost in meditation, suddenly opened his eyes, staring into the distance with a curious light in his gaze.

“What is…” he began to mutter, but before he could finish, the gargantuan beast, Wang Yue, froze, its eyes fixed on the horizon. Its massive body trembled, a mixture of terror and excitement warring within its crimson eyes. It threw back its head and unleashed a piercing shriek that tore through the silence of the cosmos.

The yin-yang faced elder hesitated only for a moment before turning Wang Yue toward the rift and the vortex, urging it to full speed.

Upon the Emperor Star, the tens of thousands of cultivators were still mesmerized by the Heavenly Incense. Suddenly, the elegant young noble, who had been observing them, changed. He clasped his hands towards the Old Vermillion Bird and the other powerful figures and said, “Fellow Daoists, I have pressing matters to attend to, and cannot linger for the ceremonies. Farewell!”

With that, he turned and took a single step into the void, his form dissolving into motes of shimmering light, vanishing from the realm.

This abrupt departure stirred the assembled crowd. All the Third Step powerful figures, including the Old Vermillion Bird, had their expressions shifted.

The Azure Dream Daoist narrowed his eyes, gazing into the distance. After a moment of contemplation, he, too, clasped his hands toward the Old Vermillion Bird and spoke in a low voice, “A strange event unfolds, and I must investigate.”

He glanced at Li Qianmei, who was beside him, and sighed inwardly. With a flick of his sleeves, an azure light enveloped both father and daughter, and they disappeared from sight.

The leather-clad elder astride the lizard-beast also saw the change. A strange light flickered in his eyes as the pinned-shut corners of his mouth twitched. He clasped his hands toward the Old Vermillion Bird without uttering a word, then slapped the flank of his mount. The lizard-beast hissed and soared into the sky, vanishing into the horizon.

The Cloudfall High Priest and Si Mozi exchanged meaningful glances. The Cloudfall High Priest clasped his hands, preparing to speak, when suddenly, the Heavenly Incense burst into a raging inferno. “The Heavenly Incense burns!”

“So quickly, the final incense stick is lit!”

“I wonder how long the Third Young Emperor can endure this time. Can he surpass the Second Young Emperor of yesteryear?” The gazes of the surrounding cultivators converged upon the Heavenly Incense. Even the departing Cloudfall High Priest paused, turning his head in curiosity.

The Heavenly Incense blazed, smoke billowing skyward in a torrent of searing heat. The inferno devoured the stick with furious hunger.

One breath… two breaths… three breaths… Within the Heavenly Domain, Wang Lin sat cross-legged upon the colossal statue’s palm, where a nine-hued inferno had ignited. From afar, it appeared as if the massive hand cradled a burning sun.

Even in its nascent state, the fire radiated a terrifying aura of annihilation. Three breaths passed in a heartbeat, and Wang Lin felt the indescribable heat as it permeated him.
A sense of being cast into a celestial crucible, a forge of the gods, washed over him. The feeling intensified with each passing heartbeat. The inferno that engulfed him twisted and writhed, its hues shifting nine times with every breath he drew. Each alteration amplified the flames, turning them into a maelstrom of agony. A mere three breaths had passed, yet already, Wang Lin felt his very essence teetering on the precipice of annihilation.

This was no trial, no test of mettle, but an outright attempt to obliterate his soul! Wang Lin knew, with chilling certainty, that were it not for his Suzaku’s recent, fourth awakening, were it not for the nascent phantom flames that now flickered within his spirit, he would have been reduced to ash within those first three agonizing breaths.

Beyond the Emperor Star, his physical form, vacant of his soul, spasmed violently. Beads of sweat, the size of pearls, erupted from his pores, only to vanish in a hiss, transformed into vaporous wisps that ascended into the ether. His flesh had become like a bar of iron thrust into a furnace, threatening to consume his earthly vessel within the Celestial Realm. Wang Lin’s face, once bearing an expression of respect, contorted in a mask of savage defiance. With a guttural roar that shook the very air, he unleashed the power within. Nine-colored flames roared forth from his left eye, erupting in a furious torrent to surround him in a shield of incandescent defiance. Fire against fire! A cacophony of explosive force echoed within the giant, unseen hand. Four breaths… five breaths…

On the Emperor Star, tens of thousands of cultivators watched, their gazes fixed on Wang Lin’s prone body. It was now enveloped in a cloud of vaporous sweat. As the fifth breath expired, the cloud detonated outward. The burning incense, the Heaven’s Scent, sputtered and paused, nearly half its length consumed.

“If the Suzaku clan dwells within the Ancient Star Domain, why then does the Fire Sparrow clan still exist?” Wang Lin bellowed the question as he clawed through the agonizing moment of the fifth breath.

“The traitorous Fire Sparrow was birthed by mine enemies, stealing a relic of great power and creating its own clan. I am bound, unable to cleanse the stain. Furthermore, the Fire Sparrow’s continued existence serves a purpose for this one.” The droning voice replied, concise and devoid of emotion. The voice faded, plunging back into an unnatural silence.

But for Wang Lin, the agonizing flames intensified, fueled by the ancient power of his ancestor, rising as a raging tempest. The force of the storm slammed into Wang Lin, shattering his nine-colored shield, sending waves of unbearable pain screaming through his soul. He coughed up a plume of spectral essence, his face paling to the color of bone.

What happened to his soul mirrored his flesh. On the Emperor Star, his physical form was wracked with violent tremors. Crimson blood oozed from the corners of his mouth, only to be instantly seared into ash that dispersed into the swirling vapor.

Watching this agonizing spectacle, the ancient Suzaku’s eyes narrowed, his features hardening. “Has the First Ancestor lost his senses? To use the Infernal Flames as a trial? This Heaven’s Scent ordeal is meant to grant boons, not inflict such agony! What is the meaning of this madness?”

The Scribe Si Mo Zi’s gaze flickered, reflecting his own growing concern. He exchanged uneasy glances with the High Scribes Yun Luo and Yun Luo bit her lip, her eyes narrowed as she instinctively reached for the threads of fate to divine the truth. But the memory of Wang Lin’s gaze, the raw power that had burned within them, sent a chill through her, and she dared not attempt to pierce the veil.

Six breaths… seven breaths… eight breaths… Under the Heaven’s Scent, Wang Lin coughed up blood with every tortured exhale, his skin shriveling like parchment. It seemed that even the very blood within his veins was being boiled away by the flames that now emanated from his soul.

Within the Celestial Realm, Wang Lin gnashed his teeth, his face a mask of agony. The fiery storm, once a kaleidoscope of nine colors, had coalesced into a roiling chaos. The temperatures within were reaching the very limit of his endurance.

In the midst of this agonizing conflagration, a wave of pain washed over him, several times more intense than the previous trials of Man and Earth. “This is a trial?” Wang Lin roared, lifting his gaze, his eyes blazing with anger as he locked his sights on the ancestral Suzaku statue. His fingers flashed in a complex mudra, and lightning roared in his right eye. A storm of heavenly lightning filled the Celestial Realm. Bolts of pure energy hurtled toward Wang Lin’s right eye, coalescing into a maelstrom around him.

Woven into a tempestuous tapestry of crackling energy, the lightning storm forged a desperate barrier, buying him precious moments, pushing him to the ninth breath, the tenth.