In the Four Celestial Domains, the invading cultivators from beyond the stars were utterly vanquished, their forms dissolved into nothingness by the celestial wheel of power unleashed by the united forces of the Inner Realm.

Only one, the bewitching Celestial Consort, fled in disarray, tearing through the fabric of reality in a desperate escape. Yet, one figure survived the turning of the heavens: Yun Luo!

Of all the invaders, Yun Luo harbored the deepest dread for Wang Lin. The visions gleaned long ago haunted her like a festering wound. The moment Wang Lin’s arrow sent the Palm Sovereign reeling, she crushed the life-saving jade talisman left by her departed master.

This talisman, forged in the dying breath of her master, was interwoven with the very fabric of the cosmos, capable of instantaneous, boundless translocation. Wherever she may be, it would return her to her clan’s ancient altar within the Primordial Starry Skies. But once used, the talisman would shatter.

She had borne this talisman always, never even using it when her Avatar perished at the hand of the Outsider years ago. But today, it saved her life.

As for Wang Lin, his aura was fractured. Though possessed of an ancient god’s physique, the preceding battle had inflicted grievous wounds. The wounds stemmed from his duel with the elusive Celestial Consort, and from his efforts to suppress the black-robed elder and another Celestial Consort within the Heavenly Furnace.

But the greater source was the celestial wheel he conjured, born of the union of the Three Essences and the Immovable Revolution. To bring forth this weapon, he had expended nearly all of his power, especially in the final, desperate push of the fourth revolution, leaving Wang Lin utterly drained.

Though his cultivation had soared to the Middle Stage of Sky Enlightenment upon entering the Third Step, such a burden left him utterly exhausted.

His face was ashen, devoid of blood, seemingly robbed of his former might, as if a mere breeze would send him toppling. Yet, his eyes burned with unwavering determination.

He did not falter, did not yield, but instead, spoke the words of a three-year vigil!

As Wang Lin spoke, from the distant starry void, Situ Nan and thousands of other cultivators arrived, their arrival delayed by distance. Yet their tardiness proved a boon, for they were unscathed by the battle and stood as guardians, tending to the wounded of the Inner Realm.

Without pause, Wang Lin departed, finding no time to speak with Qing Shui, nor to exchange words with familiar faces. Time was of the essence. Though the Inner Realm lay momentarily still, Wang Lin alone knew this was merely the opening act.

This was but the first step.

A true cataclysm, within those three years, and even beyond, would unleash a force of unimaginable power, one that could consume the Inner and Outer Realms in a fiery annihilation.

For those of the Immortal Gang Continent cared little for the demise of this cavern world. The Heavenly Dao would give rise to new beings, and in time, countless more souls would emerge. Among them, Third Step paragons, and mighty figures struggling within these cavernous realms, would once again arise!

But Wang Lin would not allow such a thing. He had a plan, a desperate ambition. With this plan in his heart, he transformed into a streak of iridescent light, propelling the revolutions of the Three Essences, and soared into the vast starry expanse.

Behind him, Mu Bingmei gazed upon Wang Lin’s departing form, biting her lower lip. Her eyes held no lingering complexity, only a fathomless bewilderment. After a long silence, she bowed her head, the echoes of Wang Lin’s words resonating in her ears.

“Though she is not a beauty of Wang Lin, she is the mother of my son, Wang Ping…” Mu Bingmei raised her exquisitely fair face, her eyes now blazing with resolve. With a leap, she transformed into a blue phoenix, and pursued the path of Wang Lin.

In the distance, Qing Shui, reunited with his true spirit, opened his eyes. He looked at the pink-robed woman beside him, her eyes fixated on the emptiness where Wang Lin had vanished, and sighed softly.

“You and he… you have known each other for a long time, have you not?”

The pink-robed woman was silent for a long moment, then turned to look at Qing Shui and nodded lightly.

“His life has been filled with sorrow, and solitude has been his constant companion. If you wish to accompany him, do not hesitate… In life, some things, once missed, are lost forever. Do not be like me from years past…” Regret flickered within Qing Shui’s gaze.

“Why… why did you save me?” The pink-robed woman whispered, her head bowed.

Qing Shui fell silent. After what seemed an eternity, bitterness etched itself upon his face. He shook his head, unable to voice the words that lingered on his tongue. He could not say them, though he should have when he recognized her as his own daughter. But he did not know how to express, or how to convey, the words he so long held back.

After a long wait, the pink-robed woman bowed to Qing Shui, a complex expression upon her face. She could not comprehend his actions. With a soft sigh, she turned and walked into the starry void, pursuing the direction of Wang Lin’s departure.

Qing Shuang arose from his cross-legged meditation, gazing into the star-filled expanse. He closed his eyes.

“He… perhaps he knows some of the truth… Just as my Master told me those things long ago… Then, I could not believe, and chose to deceive myself through oblivion… He is stronger than I. He has not chosen self-deception, but instead, faces the truth head-on.” As Mu Bingmei and the pink-robed woman both transformed into streaks of iridescent light and vanished, a rainbow arc arose from a surviving cultivation star, swiftly following after them.

Within that rainbow, was a woman. Her name, was Xi Zifeng.

After this devastating conflict, less than fifty thousand cultivators of the Inner Realm remained. From the First Battle of the Cloud Seas ninety-seven years ago, from the nearly half a million cultivators of the Inner Realm at that time, over ninety percent had perished.

Those who remained were now the entirety of the Inner Realm’s strength.

The battle, stretching across nearly a century, was unparalleled in its brutality. The meager number of Inner Realm Grand Empyreans had suffered heavy losses. Those who lived carried grievous wounds.

Without sufficient incense to fuel their recovery, even restoration would prove agonizingly slow, and it was likely many would never reach their former heights again.
In the celestial tapestry of Luo Tian Starfield, the stars of cultivation, once numerous, were now reduced to but nineteen after the great conflict. These nineteen havens became the sanctuary for nearly fifty thousand weary cultivators, a place for their wounds to mend and spirits to recover.

And thus, it was that a new realm of cultivation was forged within the ravaged lands.

Under the watchful gaze of Situ Nan and his guardians, the multitude sought solace upon the nineteen stars, their bodies stilled in meditative postures, seeking healing within. Among them were those skilled in the arcane art of alchemy. Braving their own injuries, and under the protection of a thousand stalwart warriors led by Situ Nan, they ventured into the desolate expanse of the three greater starfields. Their quest was to find the rarest of herbs, ingredients to craft potent elixirs that would hasten the recovery of their brethren.

A semblance of peace descended, as the thousands sought respite and renewal. Yet, vigilance remained, for the war was far from its final act.

At that moment, a fourth streak of light shot forth from one of the remaining stars, a shimmering rainbow cutting through the void, heading in the direction of Wang Lin’s departure. Within that radiant arc travelled a woman, a powerful being from Zhao He, the lady clad in violet robes, a master of the Empty Profound!

Her origins were shrouded in mystery, known only to a select few within the realm. Yet, her actions in the unfolding battles had earned her the respect of all.

Thirty years past, her sister had fallen in battle. Since that day, the already taciturn woman had spoken nary a word.

The life force within the realm began to stir, passing silently through three years of recovery.

Wang Lin, wearied beyond measure, propelled the Wheel of Three Origins through the star-strewn expanse, hurtling towards the breach in Yun Hai. That fissure was a flaw in the sealing formation, and a grave peril to the realm’s hard-won respite.

For the realm to truly have these final three years of respite, the breach had to be sealed. Furthermore, Wang Lin knew he must hold that place, alone, for one thousand and ninety-five days and nights.

He could have chosen a different path, could have deceived himself and sought out some forgotten corner to live out his days. But he could not, and would not, betray his people.

As he sped onward, the void echoed with the roar of his passage, the sound of the Wheel of Three Origins rending the fabric of space. The light in Wang Lin’s eyes burned bright, concealing the fatigue etched upon his face as he drove the Wheel onward.

Before long, he reached the border of Yun Hai. With a single stride, his form became a flash of light, hurtling into the starfield. Gone was the ethereal mist that once defined Yun Hai, replaced by a stark clarity. The stench of blood hung heavy in the air, and shattered remnants of celestial bodies drifted like debris, a testament to the ruin that had befallen this place.

Wang Lin propelled the Wheel of Three Origins through the wreckage of Yun Hai. Gradually, the site of the first great battle of Yun Hai appeared before him. This region was one of the few where a vestige of the ancient mists remained, yet with Wang Lin’s approach, a wind born from the Origins swept through the area.

As the gale intensified, the mists obscuring the breach in the sealing formation writhed and dispersed with startling speed. Soon, the thick fog before Wang Lin vanished completely, revealing a gaping wound in the barrier, a chasm a thousand feet wide.

The breach remained, a festering scar on the exposed formation. Though near a century had passed, it refused to heal. The cultivators of the realm had tried and failed to mend it. The wound could not be closed, for the very formation that separated this realm from the outside, weakened by countless ages, was nearing its end under the strain of countless impacts during the sealing war.

The sealing formation, its creator lost to the ages, now faltered, its resilience shattered by unending waves of destruction. The breach, a century old, testified to its impending demise.

Standing before the chasm, Wang Lin fell into a profound silence. His spiritual sense swept over the barrier, and he perceived the lingering presence of the array’s spirits, their essence fading with the weakening of the great seal.

“This array…” Wang Lin lamented inwardly. He turned to face the void behind him, where a violet streak of light, emanating the power of a Third Step master, streaked through the stars.

It was the lady of Zhao He, clad in violet, the last to depart, yet the first to catch up to Wang Lin.