What defined strength, the young Wang Lin knew not. He only perceived that the neighbor’s children, sturdier than himself, were deemed strong.

What constituted responsibility, Wang Lin, after two millennia of cultivation, only truly grasped a few years past, understanding the weight it bore.

Honored Lord, a title signifying both strength and responsibility, stayed with Wang Lin but a short while, yet it spurred him onward, towards the true maturity of a cultivator.

This maturity blossomed within the heart, a process of self-empowerment.

Only the strong who understood responsibility were truly strong! Though such a notion might sound hollow, the most direct embodiment of strength, in Wang Lin’s eyes, was his own father.

His father, merely a mortal man, was nonetheless strong in the eyes of young Wang Lin. He shouldered the burden of the family, a responsibility, a figure as steadfast as a mountain, shielding Wang Lin and his mother from the storms of life.

When the father is present, the home remains.

This, then, was strength!

Wang Lin, after two thousand years of cultivation, now drew from the memory of his father, gleaning profound insights.

The ways of Heaven and Earth often followed such a path, from the small to the great, from the microcosm to the macrocosm.

Three years of guarding the Realm Within,凝新仙界, countless slaughters, hands stained with blood – Wang Lin would not look back upon any of it. He could not. He could only move forward, either to shatter against an unyielding wall, dying a futile death, or to break through with earth-shattering, glorious force!

The path ahead lay at his feet, stretching into the distance.

His white figure, like a willow catkin adrift in the starlit sky, rootless yet not lost, danced gently, as if seeking something, ultimately swallowed by the dark tapestry of the cosmos, leaving no trace.

Outside the Transmigration Array of the Cloud Sea Star Territory, Wang Lin’s true body sat in meditation. In the final three days of that third year, he slowly opened his cold eyes as he exhaled.

He turned, gazing at the Realm Within. At the edge of his vision, Wang Lin’s white-clad avatar approached, step by measured step, causing not a ripple, uttering not a sound. Yet each footfall felt exceedingly heavy.

Until the avatar arrived, standing beside the meditating true body, turning to look with him towards the Realm Within behind them.

The scene resembled a painting, and if it could be preserved for eternity, it would become a timeless masterpiece. The starry sky formed the backdrop, the Transmigration Array the color palette, and within the array, two identical figures sat and stood, both gazing into the distance.

After a long silence, Wang Lin’s avatar turned, striding towards the true body. In a flash of soft light, the avatar merged with the true body. With a muffled thud, Wang Lin’s white hair burst forth, and he rose from his seated position, withdrawing his gaze from the Realm Within. His cold eyes now rested upon the Ancient Star Territory beyond.

“The final three days. The Four War Generals of the Ancient Immortal Domain descend. Within the Realm Within and the Realm Without, a final, hidden battle will erupt… Alas, even now, I still know not the nature of that third being!” Wang Lin mused silently.

“But regardless, this final battle will be… interesting… The Daoist of Seven Colors, Old Ghost Zhan, and the Four War Generals seeking to awaken Immortal Venerate… lastly, the Immortal Gang cultivators who emerge from the Wind Immortal Realm…

Before that happens, let me unleash a prelude of chaos for this final conflict!” Bright light flared in Wang Lin’s eyes. He moved, stepping from the Transmigration Array towards the Ancient Star Territory beyond.

“Devastate the Ancient Immortal Domain of the Realm Without!” Wang Lin’s brow furrowed with murderous intent. As he stepped into the Ancient Star Territory, his figure transformed into a long streak of light, unleashing his full cultivation power as he hurtled forward.

He made no attempt to conceal his aura, to hide his presence. Instead, he declared to the entire Realm Without that Wang Lin had arrived!

The stars trembled. As Wang Lin’s spiritual sense spread, the powerful cultivators within the various tribes of the Ancient Star Territory awoke in alarm. Whatever they were doing, they all abruptly looked up at the sky.

They could clearly feel an astonishing aura of slaughter, emanating from the Realm Within!

Wang Lin did not know the location of the Ancient Immortal Domain of the Realm Without, nor did he blindly seek it. Instead, he raced deeper into the Ancient Star Territory. Though he lacked specific knowledge, as long as he remained there, he would sense the aura of the Ancient Immortal Domain of the Realm Without opening at the same time that the Four War Generals descended from the Realm Within after three days!

As Wang Lin’s spiritual sense expanded, flooding the entire Ancient Star Territory, Palm Sovereign, in his palace suspended amidst the floating stars, stared intently ahead, his withered right hand clenching into a fist, which he held for a long time without loosening.

He remained silent for a long time, ultimately unable to resolve himself to intercept Wang Lin. He harbored a deep dread of Wang Lin’s bow. Before Wang Lin had expended the power of those two arrows, he dared not act!

Two years prior, he had attempted a surprise attack amidst the chaos, but to his dismay, Wang Lin, shielded by the formation, had detected him, forcing him to retreat at his single word.

“His presence in the Ancient Star Territory… what does he seek…? Is it mere provocation, an attempt to lure me into intercepting him…?” Doubt flickered in Palm Sovereign’s eyes. He could not fathom why Wang Lin would appear so brazenly in the Ancient Star Territory.

“I shall not approach. I shall see what he does!” Palm Sovereign muttered, his eyes revealing a sense of stifled resentment. His cultivation was sky-piercing, but if not for his fear of the terrifying Li Guang Arrow, he would have struck to kill without hesitation.

Also within the Ancient Star Territory, within the vortex of black holes formed by several cultivation star systems, a seven-colored light swirled, coalescing into the figure of the Daoist of Seven Colors. His expression was serene, his gaze sweeping across the distance, a smile gracing his lips.

“The Li Guang Bow and Arrow in his hands, though I directed Palm Sovereign to bestow them, can be considered his fortune. And now he arrives here again. What does he intend to do…? This one is much like Old Ghost Zhan. If he is not the third, then he is a singular existence amongst the cultivators of the Sealed Realm.

Such a cultivator, if he is ultimately not that third one, would be a pity to kill. However, he also has flaws. If he does not die in the end, he could be used by me.” The Daoist of Seven Colors smiled, withdrawing his gaze.
The crimson array is complete, its calculations unfolding. Soon, after eons of searching, I shall know the truth! Where is the third, reborn countless times? For ten thousand millennia, I have sought thee! Who art thou, now that the Wheel hath turned again?

Upon a forgotten cultivator-star, nestled within the ancient stellar tapestry, sat a maiden garbed in white. Her beauty was like that of a celestial being, yet an aura of glacial cold emanated from her form. She resembled nothing so much as snow that would never melt. Perched atop a mountain peak, her eyes, once closed in meditation, now snapped open.

“It is him!” This woman was none other than the Third Consort of the Immortal Venerable, one of his eight celestial wives.

She had taken no part in the wars that raged across the realms. Instead, from the moment the Grave-keeper of Ancient Days departed from his burial grounds, she had remained here, patiently awaiting some unknown event.

“What is he doing, appearing in this place…”

Far away, within that same primeval constellation, a colossal rift tore through the void. Within it lay a pocket of reality, a verdant paradise filled with the songs of birds and the fragrance of blossoms. There, sat the Seventh Consort, legs crossed in a meditative pose.

Her eyes flickered open, revealing a light within that was both curious and strange.

“What seeks he to accomplish…?”

Not only these celestial consorts were pondering Wang Lin’s actions. Across the ancient starfield, the Venerable Myōon, the Nine Heavens Devil Lord, and others stirred from their wounded slumber. They gazed into the heavens, their expressions grim.

Wang Lin’s presence, and particularly the bow he carried, weighed heavily upon them, a source of no small unease.

Nearly every powerful being in existence focused their divine senses upon the location where Wang Lin’s aura resonated. They knew not his purpose, and their hearts were filled with trepidation.

Beneath the all-seeing gaze of these mighty ones, Wang Lin’s form drifted to a halt in the vast expanse. He had reached the approximate center of the ancient constellation, a point from which he could instantly traverse to any corner of it.

His movements ceased, Wang Lin settled into a cross-legged position in the star-strewn void. He closed his eyes and silently breathed, patiently waiting.

This act only deepened the confusion and unease of those who observed him from afar.

Time flowed on, and the final three days of this third year dwindled, leaving but twelve hours remaining. Once those last hours had passed, the Cave Dwelling Realm would undergo a cataclysmic transformation!

Yet, save for Wang Lin, none seemed to perceive this impending change. Not even the Rainbow Daoist or the War-Veteran Ghost could fully grasp its magnitude.

Perhaps one other held a glimmer of understanding. Deep within the Summoned River starfield, concealed upon a shard of drifting rock, sat the Celestial Fortune Child, unseen by Wang Lin.

His eyes gleaming with a strange light, Tian Yunzi lowered his head and his hands danced before him, a flurry of calculations. The light in his eyes intensified with each passing moment, until, at last, a spark of elation ignited within them.

“It draws near… the final twelve hours…”

Wang Lin remained utterly still, drawing slow, measured breaths, maintaining his aura at its peak. He silently guided the drop of blood, a fragment of the Immortal’s Imperishable Body, that resided between his brows.

Eleven hours, ten, nine… until, in the instant when only four hours remained of the three long years, Wang Lin’s eyes snapped open, a brilliant flash of light erupting within them.

In that same moment, all those across the ancient starfield who watched him felt a tremor in their hearts, a multitude of speculations rising to the fore.

“It is there…” Wang Lin turned his head, gazing towards the void on his right. Slowly, a flicker of bewilderment crossed his face.

In the distant reaches of space, to Wang Lin’s right, a throng of several hundred cultivators from the ancient starfield was rushing forward. Their hair was disheveled, their faces painted in bizarre, colorful patterns, making them appear utterly peculiar.

As they advanced, they chanted loudly, their voices a discordant din.

“The Immortal Dragon manifests! Believe in our way and escape the doom of worlds! Deny our way, and perish with the masses! The Immortal Dragon is mighty… the Immortal Dragon is mighty!”

“The Immortal Dragon manifests! Take us as disciples, and we shall lead you to the unsurpassed Immortal Realm, eternal and undying!”

Trailing behind this chaotic band of zealots was an even larger crowd of nearly a thousand more cultivators, echoing their cries.