Beyond the edges of the Luo Tian Starfield, where Wang Lin’s cultivation star lingered, the cosmos churned with a roiling fog. From its depths, a cacophony of thunder echoed as fragments of ancient stone hurtled forth, their passage marked by a spectral whistle. Swiftly, a handful burst from the vaporous veil, their edges aligning, not to meld, but to form a vague and incomplete shape.

Though the nascent form remained indistinct, its true nature concealed by incompleteness, the aura of ancient sorrow and earth-shattering power it radiated struck Wang Lin like a physical blow. His mind reeled at the sight.

He knew its purpose. Though his spirit quivered, his face remained a mask of stoic calm. He stood, unmoving, gazing upon the unfolding spectacle.

More and more of the stone fragments emerged from the fog, each finding its place within the growing shape. As the celestial jigsaw puzzle neared completion, the rough outline began to solidify.

Before Wang Lin, a colossal gate materialized in the star-strewn void!

This was not the gateway to the Immortal Astral Continent, but the very threshold to the innermost sanctum of the ancient dwelling. To breach this gate was to enter the core of the lost domain!

Though this was the first time his mortal eyes had beheld the gate, it was not unfamiliar. From a single stone among the many that comprised its immense form, Wang Lin sensed the lingering essence of the Zhu Que Starfield’s battlefield.

He had stood there once, amidst the carnage, his spiritual senses stretched to their limits, witnessing a cataclysmic moment – the instant the original gate had shattered!

Now, this same door, once rent asunder by the force of heaven itself, was reforming, sending tremors of change through the entire cavernous realm!

The gate stood defiant in the cosmos, its size defying comprehension, its splendor almost blinding. Though it was largely whole, cracks and fissures still marred its surface where the fragments had yet to fully mesh. But from the surrounding fog, a rain of minute stone chips descended, like celestial dust.

These were the remnants of the original gate’s destruction, scattered to the cosmic winds in ages past!

Drawn by an unseen force, they rushed to fill the cracks, each tiny fragment fitting perfectly into its destined place. As the final chinks were filled and the gate achieved completion, a surge of power erupted, shaking the very foundations of the starfield!

This raw energy coalesced into a tempestuous vortex, emanating directly from the gate. The gale howled, carrying with it a palpable force of repulsion, scattering outwards in a wave.

In the distance, within the churning fog, a region of space warped and buckled. Under this distortion, the fog thinned, revealing a glimmer of chromatic light. From its heart, the Seven-Colored Daoist stepped forth!

His face was a study in grim determination. His gaze fell instantly upon the colossal gate and, beyond it, the mortal form of Wang Lin upon his cultivation star!

“It is you!” The Daoist’s eyes flashed with murderous intent, yet a sliver of relief pierced the fury. He would rather face Wang Lin than the Old Ghost of Battle, for it was the fate of the Third Soul that lay in the balance.

“So long as it is not the Old Ghost,” he muttered, “all is not lost!” With a sweep of his silken sleeve, he took a step toward the star beyond the gate.

But the moment his foot left the ground, the gale unleashed by the gate struck. Its propulsive force slammed into him, halting his advance and forcing him to stumble back, his features twisting in surprise.

Simultaneously, from another direction, the Old Ghost of Battle materialized in a swirl of cosmic energy. The very air around him crackled as he stood, his wild hair whipping around a form shrouded in a tattered cloak, his eyes burning with an unholy light. He, too, fixed his gaze on the star beyond the gate.

As one of the three fragments of the Seven-Colored Soul, he felt the same surge of relief mixed with murderous intent that plagued the Daoist.

“Him! Even with the power of Heaven, he has sealed his fate by claiming the Third Soul! Death is his only road!” The Old Ghost’s hand clenched into a fist, yet he hesitated, unwilling to rush forward. Instead, he braced himself against the onrushing gale, steeling his form against its force.

The Old Ghost and his shadowy cloak were forced back by the wind, but his burning gaze grew brighter with each passing moment.

Wang Lin was not surprised by their arrival. The awakening of the Third Soul and the forming of the gate to the innermost sanctum could not remain hidden.

Ignoring the two figures struggling against the storm, Wang Lin lowered his head to gaze upon the still form of Xie Qing, kneeling motionless in the valley. Sorrow etched itself deeper upon his face.

“You loved these autumn orchids,” he whispered. “Then rest here amongst them. May their beauty ease your eternal slumber… until I awaken the one who sleeps within you.” Wang Lin raised a hand and pointed towards the earth.

At his command, the valley roared, and the autumn orchids stirred, enveloping Xie Qing’s body in a fragrant shroud. Soon, all that remained was a mound of earth, carpeted with the blooming flowers.

With a sigh, Wang Lin plucked a sprig of the orchids, held it before him for a moment, and then stepped forward. The step carried him from the valley and into the vast sky above.

A second step, and Wang Lin vanished into the star-strewn void, leaving only the sprig of autumn orchids, drifting gently downwards. They swayed in the breeze, guided by an unseen hand, settling finally upon the newly formed grave.

The orchids were beautiful, vibrant with life. As they touched the earth, a soft glow emanated from them, and in a flash of spectral light, they crumbled into dust.

The wind carried the dust away, scattering it across the earth surrounding the valley.

From that day forth, whenever autumn arrived on that nameless cultivation star, the entire world would be blanketed in autumn orchids, their fragrance filling the air, a silent vigil for the one who slumbered beneath the earth.

In the starfield, beyond the gate, the gale raged, barring the passage of all but Wang Lin. Within its tempestuous heart, he felt no danger.

For this was a wind born from the gate’s reawakening, a gate triggered by the Third Soul’s awakening, a soul now residing within Wang Lin himself! He was untouched, a master in his domain.

Before him stood the gate. Behind him, the star where his friend lay sleeping. And in his eyes, the only things that mattered were the Seven-Colored Daoist and the Old Ghost of Battle!
“Wang Lin! Surrender the Third Soul to me, and I, Zhan the Elder Fiend, shall guarantee the safety of you and all within the Immortal Realm! Furthermore, I shall open the Gates of the Celestial Gang, allowing you passage to the Celestial Gang Continent!” The Elder Fiend strained against the raging vortex, and upon witnessing Wang Lin’s emergence, felt with unprecedented clarity the presence of the Third Soul within him. His words boomed forth.

“Wang Lin, if you yield the Third Soul to this Venerable One, I shall resurrect your departed wife! The Heavenly Dao, I claim not, nor shall I contend for it. The Realm of the Caves, I relinquish to you entirely. All I desire is the Third Soul. Grant it to me, and I shall depart this place, nevermore to tread upon this soil! What say you, mortal?” The Daoist of Seven Hues, his gaze sharp, echoed with a chilling proposition.

His words held allure far greater than the Elder Fiend’s. Had not the fates of Xie Qing, Qing Shui, and Si Tu been intertwined, Wang Lin would surely have succumbed to temptation!

Yet, Wang Lin stood as though deaf to their pleas. By the great portal he stood, his eyes slowly closing, as if awaiting some foreordained sign.

This defiance ignited a fierce killing intent in the eyes of both the Elder Fiend and the Daoist of Seven Hues. The storm held them at bay, yet they knew the tempest would, in time, abate!

Before long, a second clamor erupted from beyond the gate. In that region, the mists churned, and one by one, the Four War Generals materialized. Their arrival was met with the storm’s furious assault, driving them backward in a chaotic retreat. After an age of struggle, they braced themselves against the gale and surveyed the scene. Their expressions turned grim.

With but a glance, they understood that the Third Soul had been seized by Wang Lin! Further, they perceived the trap: Wang Lin, encircled by the Daoist of Seven Hues and the Elder Fiend, saw no path to escape!

The appearance of the Four stirred not a flicker of change in Wang Lin. Eyes still closed, he remained steadfast and serene.

Moments turned to minutes, and with a sudden surge of wind, the figure of the Palm Sovereign manifested at the edge of the portal. Reeling backward, he took refuge beside the Daoist of Seven Hues, his gaze fixed upon the distant form of Wang Lin, his eyes betraying a turmoil of doubt and apprehension.

Soon after the arrival of the Palm Sovereign, streaks of vibrant color pierced through the swirling mists, resolving into a band of graceful figures. These were the Immortal Consorts from the Realm Beyond!

Among them, one, the Third Consort, cast a conflicted glance upon Wang Lin, remembering their encounter within the Ancient Tomb.

Accompanying the consorts were disciples of the Seven Paths family, emerging from the distant Ancient Immortal Domain. They encircled the area, their eyes fixed upon Wang Lin.

Not long after, the Immortal Consort Zi Xia, hailing from Zhaohe, emerged from the mists, her gaze sweeping across the scene, settling upon Wang Lin, the surrounded figure. A flicker of murderous intent sparked within her eyes.

She had long harbored a grudge against Wang Lin. His refusal to join forces in days past had sown seeds of animosity. Only the conviction that she could not prevail against him had stayed her hand. Now, witnessing his entrapment, a cruel satisfaction bloomed within her heart.

As time stretched on, the starlit mists roared, and a beacon of azure light heralded the arrival of the Blue Dream Dao Lord. A subtle change hung about him, and his entrance drew the immediate attention of the Daoist of Seven Hues and the Elder Fiend.

The Blue Dream Dao Lord stood impassively, ignoring the piercing gazes of his peers.

Finally, led by an elderly man surnamed Ma, the figures of the Five Elements Sect appeared, their presence sent a ripple of tension through the assembled throng. At that very instant, as all eyes turned towards them, Wang Lin opened his own.

His eyes were pools of serenity. With that simple act, the Five Elements Sect faded into insignificance, and all attention became fixed upon Wang Lin. These were beings of immense power. To be the focus of their combined gaze could shatter the mind of lesser mortals.

Yet, Wang Lin remained unmoved. His eyes swept across the gathered company.

“Those who were destined to come, have come… What you seek, is naught but this soul…” With his right hand, Wang Lin raised aloft the Third Soul. A ghostly light shimmered from it. (To be continued…)