The elder Zhou, never one to grant Wang Lin so much as a glance, deemed the man unworthy of respect. Though hailed as an elder of the Great Soul Sect, Zhou saw only a weakling, a climber who had undoubtedly leveraged some unseen connection to attain his rank.

Such occurrences were not uncommon within the venerable halls of Xian’Gang Continent’s sects. Almost every order harbored those who, lacking true strength, nonetheless occupied positions of authority. These were figures of little consequence, mere window dressing, and on the battlefield, their inadequacies would be laid bare. Zhou, harboring a potent disdain, kept his expression neutral, though a chilling frost laced his words.

“He showed no valor in the previous engagement,” Zhou muttered to himself, “yet Elder Lu insists he be assigned to patrol duty. Curious indeed… perhaps Wang Lin is so reviled within the Great Soul Sect that even the esteemed Lu Wenran desires his absence.” He lingered outside Wang Lin’s humble dwelling, the thoughts swirling in his mind.

Zhou prided himself on his keen perception. The fact that Wang Lin was denied a place within the grand palaces, relegated instead to a meager cave, spoke volumes.

His cold words, cast into the cave’s maw, reached Wang Lin, who sat in meditative repose. The elder’s pronouncements stirred him; he opened his eyes, and within their depths lay a stillness, devoid of all emotion, a terrifying serenity.

Shadows embraced his form, rendering him one with the darkness. Even his crown of white hair seemed dulled, stained by the encroaching night.

“Elder Wang, have you not heard me?” Zhou demanded, his brow furrowed. He had stood before the cave for the passage of many breaths, yet no sound, no response, emanated from within.

This feigned indifference stoked the flames of Zhou’s ire. Without waiting for a reply, he swept his sleeve, and the cave’s entrance shuddered with a deafening roar. Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone, a network of fractures that consumed every inch in the blink of an eye.

With a final, resounding boom, the gate shattered, collapsing inward!

In the past two days, Zhou had approached each patrol assignment with meticulous courtesy, each recipient hastening to greet him. Now, faced with Wang Lin’s apparent disinterest, his patience had reached its end.

As the gate crumbled, the elder snorted, striding into the cave. But the moment his right foot crossed the threshold, he faltered. He beheld Wang Lin, seated within, his eyes fixed upon him with an icy stare.

That gaze, so piercing and cold, caused Zhou’s heart to leap in his chest. His skin prickled, each hair standing on end as if he were under the scrutiny of Lu Wenran himself. His blood surged, and he froze, his step unfinished.

“Who granted you the right to desecrate my dwelling?” Wang Lin’s voice was calm, his face a mask of impassivity. He rose, and with deliberate steps, advanced upon the elder.

Terror coiled in Zhou’s gut. The moment he had crossed the cave’s threshold, he had not seen a fellow cultivator, but rather an ancient, malevolent beast, stirring from its slumber. A tremor ran through him, and even his nascent soul quaked.

It was but a sensation, yet it possessed the weight of undeniable truth.

As Wang Lin drew closer, Zhou’s face drained of color. His legs, acting against his will, stumbled backward, retreating from the cave. Sweat soaked his garments as he fled.

“Elder… Elder Wang, what… what do you intend?” Zhou croaked, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks.

Wang Lin remained silent, relentlessly advancing. His form slowly emerged from the shadows, his white hair taking on the pallor of bone in the ethereal light spilling from the cave. As he fully materialized, Zhou’s heart hammered against his ribs, threatening to burst forth and shatter.

Its frantic rhythm drowned out all other sounds, threatening to break free and shatter.

This overwhelming sensation filled Zhou’s eyes with disbelief and unadulterated horror.

Wang Lin halted a mere arm’s length away, his gaze locked upon Zhou’s eyes, an unwavering stare.

That look, that bearing, exerted a crushing pressure, emptying the elder’s mind.

“It… it was Elder Lu Wenran…” Zhou stammered, unable to endure the pressure a moment longer. He felt that if he failed to answer, he would be annihilated by Wang Lin’s gaze, his body and soul utterly destroyed.

The words spilled forth, and in that instant, Wang Lin’s gaze shifted, turning towards a distant cluster of palaces, towards the most opulent amongst them, the abode of Lu Wenran.

As Wang Lin’s eyes found their mark, Lu Wenran, as if sensing the attention, opened his eyes, their gazes meeting across the distance, a silent confrontation.

Zhou dared not breathe. The pressure lifted, but the terror remained, a chilling memory etched into his very being.

“This man did not gain his rank through mere connections! His power… it is truly terrifying!” Zhou’s face was ashen. Wang Lin’s scrutiny had been like the edge of a deadly blade held against his brow, a sensation he would never forget.

Regret gnawed at him. He should have heeded his better judgment and ignored Lu Wenran’s entreaties to provoke such a formidable individual.

After a few breaths, Wang Lin’s gaze broke from the palace. His expression remained unchanged as he swept past Zhou, his hand casually landing on the elder’s shoulder as he passed.

“He who destroys my dwelling shall pay the price of death! But since you are a mere pawn, misled by another, I shall spare you that final judgment, though punishment you shall not escape! By the time I return on the morrow, I expect to see my gate restored!” With these words, Wang Lin vanished into the distance, swallowed by the shadows.
Wang Lin did not refuse the patrol, for such a task, born of Lyu Wenran’s whim, would only multiply with each denial.

No sooner had Wang Lin departed than old Zhou, his frame wracked with a sudden tremor, coughed forth a crimson tide. His face, once ruddy, turned a ghastly white. Staggering, he was consumed by a terror that seized his very soul.

Without a second thought, he fled, desperate to find the scattered remnants of his cave’s threshold. Before Wang Lin’s return, it must be whole again, for he dared not imagine the alternative.

“Zhou, my friend, a word.” But even as Zhou fled, a silken, yet insidious voice echoed in his ears, halting him in his tracks. His expression turned to one of bitter resignation.

The voice belonged to Lyu Wenran.

“Why must your squabbles ensnare me?” Zhou lamented inwardly. A summons from Lyu Wenran was an unbreakable command. With a sigh, he abandoned the rebuilding of his door and flew towards the palace, praying that he would be afforded enough time after dealing with Lyu Wenran to fulfill Wang Lin’s command. Should that not be the case, the consequences would be a fate too grim to contemplate.

Upon the vast expanse of the Extremity Sky Plains, Wang Lin’s form flickered, rising steadily until he stood beneath the moon’s watchful eye.

In the early hours of the night, the moon was a beacon, bathing the plains in silver light. Yet, as Wang Lin appeared, the lunar glow began to wane, devoured by layers of encroaching darkness. The land was cloaked in black.

Wang Lin walked silently across the plain, the whisper of the grass a stark contrast to the quiet night.

Time slipped away, and the moon was consumed entirely by the encroaching storm. The world was swallowed by darkness, and Wang Lin’s form became one with the shadows, indistinct and vague.

Only the damp breath of the wind, sweeping across the plains, offered movement, stirring his robes and hair. But even these things were lost within the void.

As he walked, Wang Lin thought of Li Muwan. A pang of sorrow filled his eyes. He touched his right hand, the dwelling place of his enchanted pouch, the place where Li Muwan lay slumbering.

He felt the warmth of his hand and fancied he felt her presence as well.

Two thousand years, perhaps three, it was both an eternity and a fleeting moment. Like the grass upon the Extremity Sky Plains, growing and dying in endless cycles, yet the wind remained constant, forever sweeping across the land.

A soft sigh escaped him. In this strange land, swallowed by the shadows, and perhaps because his wounds were yet unhealed, loneliness gnawed at his heart.

*I stained the heavens crimson with fire, solely to give you warmth.*

*I shook the very foundations of the world with thunder, solely that you might hear my voice.*

*I traveled countless leagues, crossed countless realms, solely to find the one who drew breath as you did.*

*I walked the path of demons, defied the heavens, overturned the earth, my desolate silhouette before you, solely that you might open your eyes and bring peace to my soul.*

Wang Lin gazed into the black heart of the plains and continued his silent vigil.

He embraced the darkness, welcomed the night, for they concealed his sorrowful figure. In the shadows, his solitude remained unseen.

Within each heart resided a box, a receptacle for memories of another. Some were sweet, some bitter.

Some cast away the box, and themselves along with it, lost forever.

Some locked the box, swallowed the key, unwilling to open it themselves, and forbidding others to even touch it.

Some held the box close, a constant reminder to never forget.

Others buried the box deep, waiting for the promise of spring, for the chance of blossoms sweet and fair.

Within the box lay the essence of love, a bittersweet draught.

“My box… remains,” Wang Lin murmured. In the darkness, his loneliness was invisible, his sorrow concealed, his… solitude, unknown.