Across the shattered remnants of three hundred worlds – or perhaps fewer, for time’s relentless march may have claimed some to oblivion, or destruction befell them in ages past – a desperate chase unfolded.

Within one of these fragmented realms, as a starlit vortex stirred into being, a streak of white defied its nascent form. Ignoring the cosmic resistance, the figure plunged forth, his countenance serene despite the perilous passage. It was Wang Lin.

Emerging from the swirling gateway, Wang Lin spun, his right hand rising. The power of Ye Mo’s severed arm coalesced, manifesting as the legendary Tear of Heaven. With a sudden surge, he rent the void behind him.

A cacophony of cracks echoed as a monstrous fissure tore through the nothingness, cleaving even the vortex itself, sending it spiraling into collapse.

All transpired in a heartbeat. Without pause, Wang Lin stepped forward, disappearing into the chasm he had wrought, vanishing from sight.

A cold snarl echoed through the star-strewn void. From the shattered vortex, a figure emerged – the Daoist of Seven Colors.

Icy malice burned in his eyes, his features contorted with a dark rage. Had Wang Lin not reacted with lightning speed, tearing the fabric of reality to erase his trail and slightly hinder the Daoist’s advance, he would have been overtaken the instant he materialized.

The relentless hunt continued. Wang Lin, employing all his arcane abilities, darted between the dying worlds. The Daoist of Seven Colors, persistent as a malignant spirit, gave unrelenting chase. Any hesitation, any lapse in Wang Lin’s movements, would prove fatal.

Their desperate flight through the fragmented realms did not go unnoticed. Threads of divine awareness, drawn by the commotion, began to coalesce, joining the pursuit alongside the Daoist of Seven Colors.

“I must shake him loose quickly,” Wang Lin muttered, flitting through the void. “This constant traversal will draw more eyes. Should that old wraith, Zhan, join the hunt, escaping their combined pursuit will be nigh impossible!” With a flicker, a vortex materialized, whisking him to another ravaged world.

As he prepared to depart, his senses sharpened. This realm differed from the others, permeated by a faint yet palpable aura of immense power, emanating, he suspected, from a slumbering beast.

A jolt of revelation coursed through his mind, yet he dared not linger. Memorizing the location, he vanished in a blink. Moments later, the Daoist of Seven Colors materialized, his expression even darker. He, too, sensed the monstrous presence, an energy that even he found unsettling. He had anticipated Wang Lin might rouse the slumbering horror to create a diversion, but the wily cultivator had not.

With no time for deliberation, the Daoist of Seven Colors resumed his chase.

Wang Lin moved with incredible speed, traversing dozens of worlds in his flight. Yet, he maintained a consistent bearing, each jump a mirror reflection of the last. Though each transition led to a different realm, their positions in the grand scheme remained unchanged!

Each forced passage, coupled with the relentless pursuit of the Daoist of Seven Colors, strained the boundaries between worlds, pushing them closer to collapse.

Wang Lin understood these fractured realms, knowing their long survival stemmed from a colossal, golden blossom he had once glimpsed. The remnants of three hundred worlds drew sustenance from this flower, ensuring their enduring existence.

This flower was a relic the Daoist of Seven Colors had obtained in the Immortal Realm, possessing no offensive power but brimming with potent life force, a catalyst for healing.

The Daoist, robbed of his memories, knew nothing of this. Even the Immortal Concubine and the Four Great Generals possessed only a superficial understanding of the three hundred realms.

With Wang Lin’s incessant traversal, the boundaries between the worlds grew increasingly unstable. Each transition was accompanied by a thunderous roar, shaking the very fabric of reality.

This accelerating decay did not escape the Daoist of Seven Colors’ notice. A cold light sparked in his eyes as a chilling smile spread across his lips.

“Such petty trickery before me?” he scoffed. “Wang Lin seeks to induce a collapse, hoping to obstruct my pursuit or even turn the chaos against me!

“A clever idea, but now that I see through it, it will never succeed!” With a glint of purpose, the Daoist raised his right hand. A wave of iridescent energy pulsed forth, subtly reinforcing the weakening boundaries between realms.

His cultivation allowed him to shore up these defenses before they crumbled completely, an act concealed from view. The radiant energy flashed only for an instant, leaving no trace.

“The boy is slippery. Should he suspect I’ve uncovered his scheme, he will undoubtedly alter course, causing unnecessary complications. I shall play along, allowing him to believe in his impending success, and at the opportune moment, seize him!” A predatory grin stretched across the Daoist’s face as he continued the chase, feigning ignorance.

From afar, the Great Celestial Xuan Luo observed the unfolding drama. He considered intervening, solving the predicament for Wang Lin, but dismissed the thought.

“His trials must be his own,” Xuan Luo murmured. “If he senses my presence, I will act. This is his final test!

“Wang Lin, do not disappoint me.” Xuan Luo had witnessed the actions of both Wang Lin and the Daoist. After a moment of contemplation, he understood their ploys.

“Were the boundaries to collapse, he could indeed escape. But his plan has been exposed. Let us see how he adapts…” Xuan Luo moved forward, trailing the chase.

Wang Lin, darting between realms, sensed the escalating resistance with each transition, confirming the impending collapse of the boundaries. A determined gleam shone in his eyes as he prepared for the final leap. As his form vanished into a swirling vortex, unnoticed by all, he produced the spectral Ghost Canvas.

In a flash, the ethereal visages enveloped him. Reappearing on the other side, the Ghost Canvas vanished without a trace. These actions were executed in the blink of an eye, concealed within the moment of transition.

The Daoist of Seven Colors, his attention fixed on the collapsing boundaries, was convinced he had foreseen Wang Lin’s intentions, leaving his quarry with no escape.

Following Wang Lin’s trail, the Daoist pursued a nearly identical course.

Time flowed onward, and a quarter of an hour passed. After nearly a hundred transitions, Wang Lin emerged from a starlit vortex. He darted forth with unprecedented speed, covering vast distances without attempting another dimensional jump.

Coiling into a ball, a faint glow surrounded his body, slowly distorting the starlight. In an instant, an illusionary landscape enveloped him. From afar, Wang Lin had vanished, replaced by an ordinary cultivator’s star. As he transformed, the residual vortex from which he had emerged faded behind him, and the Daoist of Seven Colors arrived. Without hesitation, he turned and plunged back into the swirling gateway.

This was all observed by the Great Celestial Xuan Luo, who watched with narrowed eyes, a hint of shock flickering across his face.

“Such cunning…” he murmured. “This child… a true dragon among men!” Xuan Luo remained silent for a moment, his eyes filled with an admiration he rarely displayed.

After the Daoist of Seven Colors’ departure, others followed, each disappearing into the vortex. Only after a long interval did the old wraith, Zhan, arrive at the site of the vanished vortex. Concealing his presence, a cold smile played on his lips as he stepped forward, vanishing into the fragmented realm.

Only then did the cultivator’s star that was Wang Lin stir, soon dissolving to reveal the cultivator, himself, who gazed at the departed figures with an unchanged expression. In a flicker, a vortex opened beside him, and he stepped through.

He ventured in the opposite direction of his pursuers. After traversing four fragmented realms, Wang Lin finally came to a halt in a fifth, the one harboring the aura of a slumbering beast. Proceeding with caution, Wang Lin arrived upon a cultivator’s star, a world blanketed in a seemingly endless expanse of sand, devoid of mountains and valleys.

Seated in meditation, Wang Lin exhaled, his eyes reflecting a steely resolve.

“Now,” he declared, “it is time for my first counterattack… Even if I expend one of my lives, I shall teach these pursuers a lesson they will never forget!”

“The Daoist of Seven Colors should remain oblivious for some time yet. Enough for me to lay my trap!” Wang Lin weaved a series of hand seals, pressing them against the ground.

Wang Lin’s intellect was unmatched, the wheels of his mind always turning, devising strategies for every eventuality. From the moment he entered the three hundred realms, he had envisioned this very chase, ultimately conceiving this intricate plan within a plan!

The collapsing boundaries were the first gambit, a ruse Wang Lin suspected would not deceive the Daoist or Zhan. Indeed, he counted on their discernment.

Once they had identified this “scheme”, they would unwittingly fall into Wang Lin’s second trap, one leveraging the power of the Ghost Canvas to lull them into a false sense of security, exploiting their confidence in having seen through his intentions.

The key element was not the destruction of the boundary, nor the illusion itself, but the near hundredfold repetition of his actions. The constant back-and-forth across mirrored vortices ingrained a subconscious expectation in his pursuers, setting the stage for the illusion to take hold.

These were the necessary conditions for their entrapment!