A madman served as a bulwark against the incoming onslaught. Behind this shield of insanity, Wang Lin found the destructive force, weakened by the madman’s body, now manageable by his Daogu heritage.

As the madman resumed his slumbering snores, Wang Lin retreated swiftly, making for the nine-eyed fish in the distance.

With astonishing speed, he reached them, the slumbering madman in tow. But a single glance made his eyes widen in shock.

Where once nine of the creatures had been, only four remained!

The others, five in number, had vanished!

He had no time to ponder this mystery. With a flick of his sleeve, he collected three of the near-death fish, intending to seize the fourth. But before his hand could grasp it, the fish dissolved into nothingness before his very eyes.

A chill ran down Wang Lin’s spine. He looked up, searching for the vanished creature, only to find empty space where it had been, the sound of collapsing layers of reality echoing around him.

Xuan Luo stood nearby, a smug smile playing on his lips as he beheld Wang Lin’s cautious surprise. He had taken the fourth fish himself, and Wang Lin’s reaction only deepened his amusement.

Wang Lin’s eyes flickered almost imperceptibly. He knew a secret of these fish, a truth discovered by the Seven-Colored Immortal when he had first captured them and kept them in his three hundred shattered realms. This knowledge lay dormant in his third soul.

A single fish retained its name, but when two, male and female, were together, they were known as a “Bi Mu,” their auras linked. Even if stored in separate spaces or forcibly separated, a connection remained, unless death intervened!

With this in mind, Wang Lin turned and fled without hesitation.

At that moment, the Old Ghost Zhan, who had been awake all along, lurking in the ghostly mists, strode forth, his presence finally revealed.

Emerging from the mist, the Old Ghost Zhan faced a dire choice: pursue Wang Lin for the third soul, or hunt the fleeing Seven-Colored Immortal, seizing the chance to absorb him during his rare moment of weakness!

Though the absorption would be incomplete without the third soul, merely a fusion rather than a true merging, it would prevent anyone else from claiming it! Even with his cultivation unchanged, no rival would ever be able to wrest the third soul away from him!

Each choice held immense appeal for the Old Ghost Zhan. To hunt Wang Lin first risked his own destruction against the youth’s Li Guang Bow. He knew not how many arrows Wang Lin could loose, and the delay could allow the Seven-Colored Immortal to recover, leading to his own downfall!

Yet, to let Wang Lin escape was unbearable! He yearned to end the matter once and for all, capturing both of them here!

This internal debate, though complex, occurred in a mere instant as the Old Ghost Zhan stepped out of the mist. Just then, Wang Lin’s raspy voice echoed across the collapsing three hundred realms.

“Old Ghost Zhan, how many arrows do you think I have left?” Wang Lin called out, retreating, the slumbering madman clutched tightly. A vortex materialized behind him, and he stepped towards it, his gaze fixed upon the Old Ghost Zhan until his figure vanished.

The Old Ghost Zhan returned the gaze, the spectral cloak around him blurring as he scrutinized Wang Lin but made no move to pursue him. He could not be certain of Wang Lin’s remaining strength, and his cautious nature prevented him from gambling.

Wang Lin had chosen to wound the Seven-Colored Immortal over the Old Ghost Zhan precisely because his analysis suggested the former was driven by obsession. The Seven-Colored Immortal’s soul only possessed techniques and spells, unlike the Old Ghost Zhan, who had gained insight into the very origins of intent. The Old Ghost Zhan was, therefore, more likely to be rational.

Had the roles been reversed, Wang Lin could not have predicted the Seven-Colored Immortal’s choice. But with the Old Ghost Zhan, he was eighty percent certain!

This was the most satisfying outcome of his Seven Buried Killing Game. He was not so arrogant as to believe he could kill the Seven-Colored Immortal outright, but he could manipulate the situation.

By creating a series of events that disadvantaged the Seven-Colored Immortal, he would lure the Old Ghost Zhan into action. On one hand, the battle with the Seven-Colored Immortal served as a warning to the Old Ghost Zhan, dissuading him from attacking Wang Lin directly. On the other, it was a gift to the Old Ghost Zhan!

Everything hinged on whether the Old Ghost Zhan would accept it.

Despite its imperfections, Wang Lin’s plan had succeeded in causing the Old Ghost Zhan to hesitate. As Wang Lin disappeared, the Old Ghost Zhan’s eyes flashed, and he whirled around towards the direction of the fleeing Seven-Colored Immortal, a glint of avarice in his gaze. He set off in pursuit.

From afar, the Palm Sovereign witnessed the events, his eyes gleaming. He subtly grasped the situation and, overcome with a sudden impulse, decided to keep silent, allowing his own thoughts and plans to take form.

The moment Wang Lin stepped into the vortex, the three hundred shattered realms imploded, and within the core cauldron, the giant yellow flower seen by all who had entered, its three hundred droplets of dew turned to vapor and vanished along with the flower, which withered and crumbled.

Whether the others lived or died was unknown to Wang Lin. He emerged from the vortex, no longer within the First Flower’s three hundred realms, but in a different world entirely.

The moment he materialized, blood spilled from his lips. His face was pale as he quickly took the slumbering madman away. He could not afford to rest and heal, so he looked around.

Here, the sky was dim, yet before him was a flower bathed in ethereal light, emitting a frigid aura – the aura of ice!

The flower was entombed in ice!

“Five Flowers and Eight Gates – the Seven-Colored Immortal’s core defensive structure!” Wang Lin knew, not much from the third soul, but he knew about the Seven-Colored Immortal’s defenses.

The three hundred shattered realms were the First Flower. Now, the entombed flower stood as the Second! Perhaps other flowers were damaged or even destroyed, but without seeing them, Wang Lin could not speculate.
Deep within the final blossom of the fabled Eight Gates lay secrets whispered only through ancient souls. Wang Lin, guided by the echoes of his third spirit, knew that the key to unlocking its hidden power resided within those very memories.

Of the Eight Gates, seven were mere illusions, phantoms conjured to mislead. Only one held the truth, the gateway to the celestial realm of Immortal Gang. It was concealed within the final flower because the fifth blossom was, in reality, the seal forged by the venerable Seven-Colored Immortal himself.

Gazing upon the second flower, encased in shimmering ice, Wang Lin hesitated for a fleeting moment. Resolve hardening his gaze, he lunged forward, merging with the frozen bloom, vanishing into its icy embrace.

Already burdened by grievous wounds and without the solace of healing, he entered the second flower. As the frigid air enveloped him, his form materialized within the bloom’s world, a harsh cough expelling a mouthful of crimson.

His blood, immediately transformed into frozen crimson shards, pattered against the ground like crystalline hail. Staggering back, Wang Lin steadied himself, his senses straining as he took in his surroundings. He was utterly taken aback.

He stood in a world entirely entombed in ice. The earth, the sky, even the clouds above, were frozen solid. Floating continents hung suspended, like colossal, glittering icicles.

“…What place is this, held within the second flower?” Wang Lin muttered, his expression grim. He unleashed his divine sense, probing the frozen landscape, seeking the answers lost in the third spirit. As his awareness expanded, his eyes widened with a glimmer of understanding.

Though frozen, this world throbbed with life, a multitude of dormant beings slumbering beneath the icy veil. Here, too, Wang Lin detected a familiar aura, the ancient essence of a god!

Abruptly, Wang Lin’s face paled. His gaze locked onto the horizon to his left, where the divine energy radiated with overwhelming intensity.

After a moment of silent contemplation, Wang Lin suppressed the pain that wracked his body and stepped into the void. Slowly, deliberately, he moved toward the source of the ancient divine aura. An hour passed, and Wang Lin halted in the sky, enduring the biting chill as he stared ahead, unblinking.

Ten thousand miles distant, amidst the frozen expanse, a towering spire of ice jutted skyward. Upon its peak sat a woman, her long hair cascading down her back. She faced Wang Lin across the vast, frigid distance. Upon her brow, seven ancient god stars rotated in a mesmerizing dance, radiating the powerful essence of ancient divinity!

A female ancient god!

In the shattered space of the Eastern Lin Star!

Her eyelashes fluttered, and her eyes, filled with an unnerving calm, opened. Her gaze fixed on the distant figure, as if she could pierce the ten thousand miles that separated them. Their eyes met across the void.

“Welcome… to the Eastern Lin Sect,” she said, her voice a melodious whisper that echoed through the frozen world.

Across the chasm, Wang Lin remained silent. The sight of the woman triggered a memory, revealing the source of the familiar divine aura. It was the same energy he had sensed when he slew the ancestor of the Eastern Lin Xiang family in the Luo Tian Star Region.

“This… is the Eastern Lin Star?” Wang Lin asked, taking a step forward. The void rippled beneath his feet, and with that single stride, he crossed ten thousand miles, appearing a mere hundred paces from the female ancient god.

The woman regarded Wang Lin, her placid gaze momentarily flashing with a spark of curiosity. Hearing his question, she shook her head.

“This is the Eastern Lin Sect, not the Eastern Lin Star.”

“We have met before, I believe. I am Wang Lin. May I know your name?” Wang Lin inquired, his eyes drifting to the seven stars upon her brow before he settled onto the frozen ground.

“Yun Na, a deity elder of the Eastern Lin Sect, serving under the Immortal Revered One,” the woman replied softly.

“Whether this is the Eastern Lin Star or the Eastern Lin Sect, why does it exist within the second flower?” Wang Lin asked, his eyes gleaming with inquiry.

“You are the first to enter through the core portal after being frozen here. I sense the aura of my master upon you…” The woman’s gentle voice arrested Wang Lin’s attention.

“My master…?” Wang Lin prompted, locking his gaze on Yun Na, awaiting her next words.

“This is the second flower of the Eight Gates, and everything here was created by my master, including myself, infused with the mind-blood of Ye Mo. This is the Eastern Lin Sect, recreated perfectly from my master’s memories of the sect in his early days on Immortal Gang Continent. It is a replica, down to the smallest detail.”

“My master is the Seven-Colored Immortal, a former disciple of the Eastern Lin Sect who was later banished for certain reasons. Here, he crafted this world as a tribute to his past. Everything here thrives on his life force. Should he perish, this world will be devoid of life and forever frozen. You are the first to arrive here, and since you carry a fragment of my master’s soul, you are now the master of this realm,” Yun Na finished, her gaze fixed on Wang Lin.

“You are wounded… I possess the last mind-blood of Ye Mo. Its fusion with you will complete and heal you…”