As Wang Lin hung suspended in the aether, he embraced the ancient Vermillion Bird statue. With a flourish of his right hand, the blood sword before the idol thrummed with a celestial resonance, wrenching itself free to hurtle towards him.

His words echoed with unwavering resolve, reaching the spirit of the First Generation Vermillion Bird, casting it into a contemplative silence.

Wang Lin gazed skyward, his left eye ablaze with solar fire, his right crackling with arcane lightning. He stood as a pillar of defiance, upholding the very heavens with his presence. His voice boomed, resonant with power.

“To resurrect Wan’er, I cannot rely on the whims of others. I shall achieve it through my own strength! If the Ancestor cannot lead all my brethren from this realm, then I shall remain, shattering these celestial barriers and ascending to immortality with all my comrades!” His declaration thundered across the cosmos, a reverberating roar that shook the very foundations of existence.

To cast their departure as ascension was not enough for Wang Lin, he declared he would take them all, and ascend together, becoming immortals united.

After a long moment, the First Generation Vermillion Bird sighed, a sound like wind through ancient pines.

“Perhaps you are correct… Very well, you have triumphed in the trials of Tianfang. I know that within the Fallen Lands, upon a savage star, you left behind a trace of Vermillion blood, intending to lure the Fire Sparrow clan… Your aim, I surmise, is to claim the essence of fire within them. Though your own Vermillion lineage has awakened four times, birthing a nascent flame, the consumption of the Third Generation Abyssal Sparrow’s primordial essence would greatly amplify your own fire. Though an artificially created being, the Third Generation possessed a genius unmatched in my long existence. Though I grievously wounded him long ago, his cultivation runs deep, his cunning is unmatched. Assuredly he left some contingency.

“And I have long suspected that within this Ancient Starry Sky, he holds another identity. Shackled as I am, I cannot discern it. Should you seek to exploit the Fire Sparrows, be wary of the Third Generation Abyssal Sparrow… perchance he secludes himself within the Fire Sparrow’s sacred grounds. Should he dwell there, I offer you this boon, a fragment of my own Seraphic Inferno. Wielding it, you shall survive, even against the might of the Third Generation Abyssal Sparrow… Should my surmises be false, consider it a potent ward!”

As the First Generation Vermillion Bird spoke, the nine-colored flames at its brow flickered, coalescing into a single, iridescent feather that drifted slowly towards Wang Lin.

“The Third Generation Abyssal Sparrow wields a treasure of our Vermillion Bird lineage, its control unknown to him. I grant it to you. Should your cultivation prove sufficient to reclaim it, then claim it as your own!”

As Wang Lin grasped the nine-colored feather, an intricate incantation flooded his mind, taking root deep within his soul.

“The Fire Sparrow clan, preserve them where you can; they hold great purpose for me. I will aid you in concealing the Vermillion blood upon that savage star, none shall perceive its artifice save the Third Generation. Now, depart.” The First Generation Vermillion Bird’s voice faded into silence, and the statue slowly reverted into an inert thing, devoid of life.

Wang Lin gazed at the First Generation’s effigy, bowed deeply in silent respect, and turned to stride into the heavens, his form fading into nothingness.

Beyond the Great Emperor Star, the Tianfang incense continued to burn, seemingly eternal, without end. Time flowed. One breath… From the moment the incense was lit, until now, twenty-three breaths had passed. The discourse between Wang Lin and the First Generation Vermillion Bird, though seemingly eternal, had been compressed by the First Generation’s intervention, lasting merely a handful of breaths in the outside world.

Twenty-four breaths… Twenty-five breaths… The surrounding cultivators, all eyes upon the scene, revealed expressions of shock. Si Mozi frowned, a glint of malice flickering within his eyes.

Great Daoist Yun Luo, his hands weaving arcane seals, watched with unwavering focus.

Only the Old Vermillion Bird remained impassive, a grim understanding dawning upon him. The trial was a test of identity…

Twenty-six breaths… Twenty-seven breaths… “Twenty-seven breaths! The Third Young Emperor has extended the Tianfang incense to such a degree!” “Observe his body, only moments ago it teetered on the precipice of death, yet now it is restored!”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Each passing breath sent tremors through their souls. Suddenly, the flame of the Tianfang incense erupted in a blinding inferno, consuming half of the sky.

In that instant, the fire surged downwards, engulfing the remaining portion of the incense. In a flash, the Tianfang incense was consumed.

This unexpected shift immediately seized the attention of all present. Even the Old Vermillion Bird’s gaze sharpened.

With blinding speed, the Tianfang incense diminished, and the descending flames threatened to engulf the still-closed eyes of Wang Lin.

As of this moment, Wang Lin’s spirit had yet to return. If he failed to return before the incense burned away completely, it was to be considered a failure, despite its potential success. The sudden acceleration of the Tianfang incense’s burning, compressing time itself, caused the hearts of the surrounding cultivators to pound within their breasts.

Before their eyes, the flames of the Tianfang incense roared, consuming Wang Lin. Within the fire, the Tianfang incense was completely burnt out.

“He hasn’t returned! The Third Young Emperor’s spirit has not returned!”

“Has he failed? I always said this trial was too arduous, he could never succeed!”

“What use is boundless cultivation if you fail this trial? Let us see how the First Young Emperor tries to save him now.”

Chaos descended. Si Mozi inhaled sharply, a surge of joy dawning in his eyes.

Great Daoist Yun Luo, his hands weaving seals, was once again interrupted, the strange force interfering with his calculations was not of this world, rather it emanated from where the Tianfang Incense had turned to ash. The air rippled from the burning incense, and the fire parted to reveal two cold lights. Like fire, like lightning, their appearance caused a shock to all those that gazed upon them.

In the flames, a black silhouette emerged, gradually revealing itself to the astonished cultivators. Wang Lin emerged, his face grim. At the very moment the Tianfang incense was consumed, his spirit had returned to his body. Once reunited with his physical form, the flames posed no threat.

Under the gaze of tens of thousands of astonished cultivators, Wang Lin raised his right hand, as if the flames behind him were an extension of himself, dancing to his will. They coalesced into a river of fire, spinning into a maelstrom that wrapped around his right hand. With a fierce grip, the flames exploded, scattering into countless embers across the sky.

The embers twinkled like fireflies, centered on Wang Lin, forming a celestial canopy of sparks. Beneath this spectacle, Wang Lin’s left eye blazed with nine-colored flames, swirling into a vortex of illusory fire, his right eye crackled with lightning, nine celestial rings encircling his pupil.

His robes billowed, his hair danced in an invisible gale. His gaze swept across the faces of the assembled cultivators. In that moment, Wang Lin embodied the duality of immortal and demon, an indescribable aura radiating from him. His injuries had vanished, and as his spirit fused with his body, and was ignited by the flames, endless power surged within him.

Beneath his gaze, those who met his eyes were shaken to their very core, a raging storm unleashed within their souls. It was as if their bodies were consumed in flames, the intensity amplified by their fear. In a heartbeat, they were reduced to ashes. But even more terrifying was the sensation of their souls and minds no longer belonging to them, a fleeting sense of being trapped within a vast, all-encompassing thunderous tapestry.

The feeling was ephemeral, vanishing as Wang Lin’s gaze passed, yet it was burned into their minds, a haunting reminder of the abyss of power.

Wang Lin’s display of might had begun. With a single sweeping gaze, he had brought tens of thousands of cultivators to their knees, their faces etched with fear, cowering before him.

Those who had harbored disrespect, those who had dared to voice their doubts, paled, their bodies trembling. They knew that with a mere thought, Wang Lin could reduce their flesh to ash, their spirits consumed by lightning. As Wang Lin’s gaze lingered on each of them, he could see a flicker of illusory fire upon their bodies, its intensity fluctuating with their emotions.

A surge of power coursed through Wang Lin. His face hardened with intent. He raised his hands, and the heavens trembled. A wisp of illusory fire appeared upon each of the surrounding cultivators, a terrifying heat radiating from their bodies, instilling terror in their hearts.

Suddenly, the countless wisps of illusory fire exploded from their bodies, drawn towards Wang Lin upon the giant tortoise like moths to a flame.

It was a breathtaking scene, the flames forming a towering vortex of fire, which was drawn into Wang Lin, surrounding his form in a celestial storm. The storm of fire spun and turned, pushing the onlookers away, scattering them for thousands of feet.

“This is… drawing external illusory fire!” The Old Vermillion Bird’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Great Daoist Yun Luo, his face pale, and heart trembling, realized that if Wang Lin had a bead and needle, he would be exactly the same as in his vision.

Wang Lin, surrounded by the fire storm, rose into the air, his gaze piercing, looking past Yun Luo and locking onto the face of the livid Si Mozi.

“Si Mozi, you wish to kill me? I grant you the chance. Come!” Wang Lin extended his right hand towards Si Mozi in invitation.