Under the Azure Sky Peak, as Wang Lin’s foot crested the stair leading to the sixth tier of the Soul Repository, the Azure Ox Taoist, cloistered in his grotto on a pretext of alchemical endeavors, snapped open his eyes.

“The first five levels yielded no fruit, did they? This sixth, however, demands a will forged in the crucible of Void Tribulation. Wang Lin’s cultivation yet falls short of that mark, but secrets cloathe him like a shroud. Perhaps, he may yet ascend…”

“But even the sixth tier marks his zenith. The seventh and eighth, should he dare to tread them, would stir tempests within the Great Soul Sect, known only to five souls or less! As for the ninth… none but I may set foot there.”

“And the First Ancestor, in his weaving of the loom of fate, foretold that only three centuries hence would Wang Lin be ready to claim the ninth…” A knowing smile played upon the Taoist’s lips, and he closed his eyes once more, silent.

Upon the stair between the fifth and sixth tiers, Wang Lin stood like a statue. At long last, his eyes flashed with emerald fire, and he expelled a deep, shuddering breath.

“A potent illusion…” In that fleeting moment, he had lived countless phantom lives, a span of centuries crammed into a scant incense stick’s burning.

Shaking off the dregs of that false reality, Wang Lin’s gaze sharpened. He raised his left foot, setting it firmly upon the next step. Again, his mind reeled under the assault, but this time, his face betrayed no weakness. Eyes burning with purpose, he advanced, seven steps in swift succession!

With each footfall, his spirit quaked, and a crushing pressure descended, threatening to cast him back.

“Mere enchantment! It shall not stay my passage!” The Ancient God star glimmered upon his brow, and the demonic sigils flared within his eyes. The bones of his frame groaned and cracked as his peerless physical might fought against the oppressive force. He pressed on, claiming five more steps.

Now, but eight steps lay between him and the entrance to the sixth tier!

“I have battled those touched by the Void Tribulation! This enchantment merely mimics their will. My will, Wang Lin’s will, was born in the Cave World, tempered upon the plains of the Immortal-Astral Continent, and woven with the very fabric of Ancestor Immortal and Ancient Ancestor in the Void. It will not be denied!” A storm of will emanated from his very being. His expression calm, he raised his foot, one step, another, another…

Without hesitation, he surged toward the sixth tier, unhurried, unyielding. Seven steps he conquered, but one remained!

As he raised his foot to claim the last, the world shimmered, and he found himself upon the brink of a precipice. A single step would plunge him into the abyss!

From the yawning chasm below, a cacophony of screams echoed, and a swirling cloud of tortured souls, like motes of ash, rose to engulf him.

He gazed into the depths, a flicker of thought crossing his face. He did not rush. Instead, he considered the strangeness of it all.

This illusion, it seemed simple enough. A stalwart will, a stride of iron resolve, ignoring the wailing spirits and the bottomless drop, and one might conquer it.

Yet something felt amiss. The vengeful spirits had surged halfway up the cliff face, now a scant hundred paces distant, closing to a mere ten!

“A cunning illusion…” A cold smile touched his lips. With a burst of speed, his foot did not waver, but stepped forward, beyond the edge of the cliff. A chorus of exultant cries rose from the spirits below, as if they had waited for this very act!

But as his foot fell, a ripple disturbed the air. In that step, he vanished. The illusion shattered in a deafening thunderclap.

At the entrance to the sixth tier of the Soul Repository, Wang Lin stepped forth, not onto the final stair, but beyond it, into the chamber itself!

As his foot touched the stone, his mind was consumed by a thunderous roar, then, stillness.

In the grotto of the Azure Sky Peak, the Azure Ox Taoist nodded, his expression undisturbed.

“As foretold by the First Ancestor, a soul of destiny. To conquer the sixth tier on his first attempt, without guidance, is a rare feat indeed!”

“You… you ascended!” Within the sixth tier, Yan Luan’s eyes narrowed, fixed on Wang Lin.

“If you can tread this path, why not Wang?” Wang Lin’s expression was unreadable as he advanced. Had he stepped upon that final stair, all would have been lost. The illusion’s subtlety lay in that last step: one could only leap beyond.

Countless seekers had sought to conquer this tier, and failed upon that very spot, forever barred from further advancement. Only a new chance, a new visit to the Soul Repository, could offer a second attempt.

“Surely, someone whispered the secret of the stair to you!” Yan Luan declared, convinced she had unraveled the mystery.

Wang Lin’s face remained a mask. He cast a sweeping gaze about the sixth tier, his inner eye probing. Here, fewer souls drifted than in the fifth, a mere sixty or so.

But each emanated an aura of power far greater than those below, each embodying secret arts and spells reserved for those touched by the Void Tribulation.

Wang Lin’s actions confirmed Yan Luan’s suspicions. She closed her eyes, dismissing him. Here, within the Soul Repository, all conflict was forbidden. Though a venerable elder of the Great Soul Sect, even she dared not transgress the sacred laws.

The Soul Repository was more than a library of spells. It was a sacred place, a hallowed ground holding secrets that transcended mortal comprehension, a truth Yan Luan understood all too well.
Wang Lin’s spirit sense swept across the sixty-odd lingering souls, and within them, he detected fragments of layered illusions and even the remnants of the Soul-Guiding Return spell cast by Yan Luan.

Most notably, the soul fragment hovering above Yan Luan’s celestial crown held precisely the secrets of the Soul-Guiding Return technique he sought! The entire sixth level was eerily silent, and Wang Lin, after a moment’s deliberation, lifted his foot and stepped forward.

His boots landed upon the wooden planks of the sixth level, each footfall punctuating the stillness with a creaking groan. The noise was jarring in the tomb-like silence, causing Yan Luan to open her eyes, a flicker of distaste flashing within.

Ignoring Yan Luan’s scorn, Wang Lin continued his advance, the creaking of the floorboards echoing as he approached the soul fragment containing the layered illusions. He studied it intently, a frown slowly creasing his brow.

Yan Luan, observing Wang Lin’s expression, smirked. She knew well the reason for his consternation, for she herself had frowned when she first beheld the famed layered illusions of the Great Soul Sect.

“These are but the first five layers of the Great Soul Sect’s illusions,” she scoffed. “If you possess the ability, venture to the seventh level, where they say the final two layers reside. And if you are truly capable, dare to ascend to the eighth, or even the ninth! Within the ninth level lies the complete, ancient soul fragment of these layered illusions!”

“Oh?” Wang Lin glanced at Yan Luan, his gaze lingering on the soul fragment above her head. “This Soul-Guiding Return spell is incomplete as well, I presume it too resides above the seventh level?”

“Indeed. The Great Soul Sect rewards strength. If you possess it, you shall obtain completeness. The entrance to the seventh level lies there. Dare you test yourself?” Yan Luan sneered, her delicate hand gesturing towards a distant point.

There, an ancient staircase ascended into the darkness above, leading to the seventh level of the Soul Repository. The Repository was strangely devoid of any dust-repelling enchantments, and the staircase was thick with grime, appearing untouched for ages.

Only upon closer inspection could one discern faint footprints beneath the dust, traces of past journeys long since obscured.

“Can you ascend?” Yan Luan challenged, her eyes filled with mocking amusement.

Wang Lin remained silent, his brow furrowing as he gazed upon the stairs. The seventh level, it was said, could only be traversed by those with the will of a Void Tribulant stage cultivator, a feat that would be exceedingly difficult for him.

The eighth, and the final ninth level, were beyond even his imagination.

“If you lack the power to ascend, then do not be so picky. The techniques and spells found here alone are enough to occupy you for a lifetime,” Yan Luan stated, certain that Wang Lin lacked the strength to climb. Her words, though not overtly harsh, were laced with contempt.

Hearing Yan Luan’s words, Wang Lin suddenly smiled. He turned to face Yan Luan, the exquisite beauty of the woman undiminished by her resentment. Indeed, her anger seemed to have made her even more attractive.

But to Wang Lin, such superficial beauty was no different from the bones beneath the skin.

“Let us make a wager,” Wang Lin proposed, his voice calm yet firm. “If I ascend to the seventh level, what shall you wager?”

His words echoed through the sixth level, causing Yan Luan’s expression to harden. She glanced at the staircase leading to the seventh level, her mind racing.

“This Wang Lin’s words…what is the truth behind them? The Great Soul Sect has very few members that are able to reach the seventh level. I, myself, have attempted it, but have failed to ascend further than seven steps. Even though this man’s cultivation seems to be very mysterious, I have battled him twice now, and if I am unable to ascend, he certainly will not be able to!

This man must be trying to find a way to back down so that he can get out of this situation. Once I disagree to this suggestion, he can avoid this topic, and I will be unable to continue using this topic to anger him…”

“If you can set foot on the seventh level, then I shall wager this!” Yan Luan’s eyes flashed, and with a flick of her wrist, a parasol, adorned with blue feathers, appeared before her.

“But what will you wager if you fail to ascend?” Yan Luan demanded, her voice cold as ice.