## Volume XI: Ancient Riddles, Chapter 1775: Legacy of the Ancient Tomb!

Having seized but a fragment of the Sovereign’s spirit, Wang Lin felt no triumph, only a pang of sorrow. The name of the Sovereign had echoed in his ears since his Second Step of cultivation, and he had clashed with him time and again amidst the ancient stars beyond the realms.

This being, once a mighty figure, was now reduced to this lamentable fate. A mere pawn of a madman, he was forced to serve the Seven-Colored One after his master’s disappearance. Now, robbed of half his spirit by Wang Lin, he reaped the bitter harvest of his deeds.

It was a cruel echo of the past, a grim reflection of when the Sovereign gathered the powers of the outer realms to hunt down the Sealed Paragon, leaving only a broken soul to find refuge within the Celestial Jewel.

*He who takes life shall find his own taken in turn.*

Wang Lin sighed inwardly, then clasped his hands towards Daoist Blue Dream and the others in gratitude.

“I thank you for this.”

“Little I can do remains,” Daoist Blue Dream replied, his gaze lingering on the grotesque Imp. “But I pledge to offer my utmost aid, regardless. This is my promise to you.”

His emphasis on the final words lent them a weighty significance.

“You returned the legacy to me, allowing my Ink Stream Avatar to reach fruition,” grumbled Tu Si, or perhaps Torsen, now diminished to the size of Chang Xiao. “Helping you is merely settling this karmic debt.”

Wang Lin could not discern whether he spoke to Tu Si or Torsen, but he gleaned a glimpse of the turmoil that had consumed this man.

As for Yun Yifeng, he offered Wang Lin a wry smile, unable to muster a response to the gratitude. He had lost, and now he was bound to obey Wang Lin’s commands. This much honor Yun Yifeng possessed, even without a blood oath, he would not stoop to treachery.

“I aided your escape before,” Wang Lin said to the Third Concubine, Tang Shan, “and now you stand with me against the Sovereign. We are even. You need not trouble yourself further.”

Tang Shan remained silent for a long moment, then nodded.

In the distance, the mountain range, once animated by the puppet of Yi Si, had crumbled, revealing a sunken hollow radiating the ancient aura of the Dao. This was the final entrance to the Ancient Tomb.

Within lay the heart of Ye Mo, as Wang Lin had witnessed in his visions.

But then, the sky rippled and twisted, and from the far horizon, streaks of light streaked, accompanied by a crushing wave of spiritual power.

Wang Lin turned, his expression hardening as he gazed at the sky.

The Old Ghost of War had come.

“Descend. I promised my aid, and I shall deliver,” Daoist Blue Dream sighed, a brilliant azure light enveloping him. A surge of battle intent erupted from within, his eyes locking onto the approaching threat.

Tu Si, silent, glanced at Wang Lin. He did not speak, but a thunderous pulse resonated within him as he raised a clenched fist.

“Martial Uncle Ma will also lend his hand,” Yun Yifeng groaned, swallowing handfuls of pills. He lifted a hand, and the energies of the Five Elements shimmered around him, coalescing into a suit of armor.

Tang Shan did not speak, but with a wave of her hand, seven golden gateways materialized around the assembled warriors. She took a deep breath and faced the heavens.

Wang Lin opened his mouth, but found no words to speak. If he were not present, he could not command the puppet of Yi Si. To make use of it, he needed to remain by its side. Yet, if he stayed, he would be a burden.

With a profound bow towards his allies, Wang Lin recognized that this was no time for ceremony. He needed to claim the final legacy of Dao Ancient Ye Mo, the heart, and then escape the Fourth Bloom to seek the True Gate in the Fifth.

But all this hinged on outstripping the Old Ghost of War. And now, his pursuer was almost upon him…

Wang Lin took a final breath and without hesitation, turned and plunged towards the ravaged hollow. As his figure vanished within, the heavens shattered, and the Old Ghost of War materialized in the sky above.

Seven-colored light pulsed around him, the result of consuming the Seven-Colored Daoist. Though his two souls remained fractured, the act had amplified his power.

And unlike the Seven-Colored Daoist, the Old Ghost of War was both his own soul and that of the Seven-Colored One. With his own deep understanding of cultivation now blended with the devoured soul, the Old Ghost of War was nearing the power of the Seven-Colored Immortal Sovereign of old.

“Out of my way, insects!” The Old Ghost of War roared, his voice a wave of destruction that crashed through the penultimate layer of the Ancient Tomb. The earth crumbled, and the sky wept.

In the final layer of the Ancient Tomb, Wang Lin materialized. The moment he appeared, he heard a faint, rhythmic throbbing, *thump-thump, thump-thump*.

The sound reverberated through his mind, but instead of synchronizing with his heartbeat, it disrupted it. It was as if two separate rhythms echoed within him. Wang Lin glanced around. Here, there was neither sky nor earth.

Only vast, vein-like structures, each hundreds of feet thick, intertwined and crisscrossed in all directions. With each *thump* of the heart, these cyan vessels pulsed and writhed.

Wang Lin perceived a colossal heart nestled amidst the arteries. Every beat sent a sharp pain through his chest, as if his own heart were shattering.

This was different from what he’d glimpsed in the Inheritance Palace, yet similar. Then, it was but a fleeting vision. Now, he truly stood within.

Wang Lin knew time was of the essence. He could not be certain how long Daoist Blue Dream and the others could hold off the Old Ghost of War. Every moment wasted was a moment closer to his demise.

He could not proceed with caution, but instead, unleashed his full speed, hurtling like a shooting star through the veins.
The chamber, blessedly devoid of any monstrous beast, allowed Wang Lin to traverse the ethereal expanse with unmatched speed, unhindered by any earthly obstacle. In the blink of an eye, he spanned vast distances, yet the colossal heart that resided at the heart of this realm seemed to sense his approach. As Wang Lin drew nearer, the heart’s rhythmic throbbing intensified, each pulse a resonating “thump-thump” that possessed an unsettling power. His own heart, in chaotic rebellion, fell out of sync, its rhythm jarringly discordant with the echoing beat. A wave of nausea washed over him, his face paling as a sharp pain pierced his chest.

The closer he ventured, the more intense the sensation became. The “thump-thump” echoed ceaselessly, like a needle stabbing relentlessly into his heart, an agony beyond the grasp of mere words.

However, these unnatural shifts left the Ichisi Puppet, forever cloaked in a veil of black mist and trailing Wang Lin, untouched. Its long tongue lolled from its jaws, and its eyes gleamed with a more savage intensity with each step, hinting at a growing unease.

The torment threatened to consume him, yet Wang Lin’s resolve remained unbroken. Like a tempestuous gale, he pressed forward, his figure materializing at the very epicenter of the chamber amidst a wave of pain that could shatter the sanity of lesser mortals.

Before him lay the colossal heart, a grotesque masterpiece intertwined with a network of pulsating arteries that branched outwards in all directions. With each heartrending beat, the vessels writhed and twisted in grotesque unison.

Here, the discord between Wang Lin’s heart and the gargantuan organ reached a deafening crescendo, the two rhythms clashing in a symphony of agony. A crimson tide spilled from Wang Lin’s lips, a harbinger of his heart’s impending collapse.

The veins across his body throbbed and swelled, the lifeblood within surging in a frantic dance of acceleration and deceleration, threatened to tear asunder with each agonized beat.

This was no spell, no arcane incantation, yet the sheer destructive force of this cardiac disharmony was staggering. Even Wang Lin’s Daogu physique seemed on the verge of succumbing, as if only the absence of a heart could grant him immunity.

His face ashen, Wang Lin clutched at his chest, his fingers digging into the flesh above his erratically beating heart. He staggered, gritting his teeth and unleashing a guttural roar, a spray of crimson painting the air as he found himself atop the monstrous heart, his body rising and falling with its relentless, thunderous pulses.

Suppressing the gnawing pain with iron will, Wang Lin forced himself into a meditative posture upon the surface of the heart. He closed his eyes, focusing all his being on the tumultuous struggle within his chest.

“Ye Mo,” he began, his voice a low, unwavering thrum. “I bear your divine legacy, your blood, your very arms. Now, I seek to inherit your heart, to bring this union to its zenith!

If you consent, quell this chaotic rhythm, and beat as one with me!” Wang Lin’s thoughts echoed into the very essence of the heart beneath him.

But the moment his thoughts took form, the heart’s frantic drumming surged anew, its pulse violently at odds with Wang Lin’s, filled with a raw, unbridled malice that sought to reject him utterly.

“I have weathered the trials of the Ancient God’s tribulation, earned the favor of the Ancient Ancestor. Your legacy has already been claimed, the majority mine. What remains of your heart, I know it resists, for you were defeated!

But you are gone! You bequeath yourself to me, so that I may fulfill that which you could not! Your kin in the Immortal Astral Continent, I, Wang Lin, will watch over, and ensure their peace!

You fell to the Seven-Colored Immortal, and I, Wang Lin, shall fight his soul, regardless of triumph or defeat, to continue the battle that was!”

The heart beneath Wang Lin faltered, its furious rhythm momentarily stilled. Yet slowly, agonizingly, the wild pulse began to stir anew.

At that very instant, a wave of unimaginable pain, laced with the chilling tendrils of a haunting vengeance, clawed at Wang Lin’s mind.

“Give me back… my left eye!”

“I vow to retrieve your left eye!” Wang Lin roared, his eyes snapping open. “This I pledge to you, Ye Mo!”

The moment the words left his lips, the heart beneath him shuddered, its chaotic dance slowly, reluctantly aligning with the rhythm of Wang Lin’s own.

An overwhelming aura of Daogu might surged forth from the heart, washing over Wang Lin as their rhythms synchronized. His silver hair whipped around him as though caught in a tempest.

The eight star points etched upon his brow spiraled with renewed vigor, and the nascent glimmer of a ninth star bloomed into existence!