Lord Wanglin’s eyes snapped open, bloodshot and burning. His tunic clung to him, soaked in sweat, and his face was ashen, drained of vitality. A profound weakness, a chilling vulnerability, permeated his very being.

“Master!” Liu Jinbiao cried, rushing forward, his face etched with shock and alarm.

“How long was I…lost?” Wanglin rasped, each breath a labored effort, as if his lungs were filled with sand. He felt mortal, fragile. After an agonizing moment, he managed to raise a hand, a feeble gesture to reassure his retainer.

“You… you merely closed your eyes, Master, but it was as if you ceased to exist. I turned to look at you, and in that instant… you awoke,” Liu Jinbiao stammered, truthfully recounting the unsettling event.

“An instant?” Wanglin frowned. His soul-journeying always dragged him deep within, never for so fleeting a moment. He cast a searching glance at Liu Jinbiao, then fell silent.

The phantoms glimpsed during his soul-flight flickered in his mind. Vague shapes, elusive forms, he could not discern their faces, nor the curve of their limbs. He could only vaguely recall… someone being there. But when he tried to grasp the memory, it slipped through his fingers like mist.

It was as if his memories had been tampered with, a chilling realization that sent a jolt through Wanglin’s spirit.

“If what I saw was real… who *was* he?” Wanglin mused, the throbbing pain and the debilitating weakness following his awakening a stark testament to some unknown peril. Never had he experienced such a thing. For a moment, he had felt on the precipice of oblivion. Not a temporary passing, but utter, irreversible annihilation, a fate beyond even the Three Life arts to mend.

Slowly, color returned to Wanglin’s face. He sat there, gazing at the Eastern Serenity Sect, a spark of fierce determination igniting in his eyes.

“One day, I *will* uncover the secrets hidden within this place!”

With a flicker of resolve, Wanglin rose and strode directly into the Eastern Serenity Pool. He settled cross-legged within its waters, the frigid depths rising to his waist, sending icy tendrils through his flesh.

He drew a deep breath, abandoning his pursuit of the Sect’s secrets, and stilled his mind. As he exhaled, he channeled his cultivation, seeking to merge with the pool’s essence.

He had known this sensation before, but now, steeped within its waters, the merging was complete. In that instant, Wanglin was swept into a strange, ethereal realm.

It was akin to the state he had entered when creating the spell of Dim Sunset, but the pool’s unique power forced him into it, accelerating the process.

He was adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Time stretched and compressed, eons passing in a heartbeat.

Opening his eyes, Wanglin blinked away the lingering fog. After a moment, he glanced down at the pool. Nearly a third of its water had vanished.

“Master, this time you were lost for three breaths,” Liu Jinbiao said, anticipating his question.

Wanglin nodded slowly.

“A failure… only three breaths, and nothing gained…” He frowned. He felt the faint strengthening of his various Origins, but it was negligible.

“The Sect Ancestor claimed this pool is connected to the souls of the extra-planar cultivators sealed within the Great Saint Continent. He said there is a chance, however slim, to perceive their unique Origins…”

“I didn’t even glimpse his Origin. This first attempt has failed… The Ancestor also warned that only two attempts are safe; the third guarantees death… Why death? If I could unravel that mystery, perhaps I could attempt it more than twice…” Wanglin pondered, then closed his eyes within the pool, sinking once more into that strange state.

As his eyelids fluttered shut, the strange energy filled him. This time, it instantly morphed into an opposing force. Within Wanglin’s mind a primal scream erupted, a furious roaring.

This time, Wanglin’s soul sunk further into the depths of oblivion, vision blurring, mind fogging.

However, he felt, ever so faintly, the intrusion of an alien power flowing within him, but as his hands reached out to grasp its essence, it slipped his fingers, leaving no trace.

Lost in the swirling oblivion, within his left eye a faint ray of light pierced the darkness. Barely visible, only a keen eye could have spotted it, drawing all Wanglin’s attention. The right eye remained blinded by fog.

Startled, Wanglin focused on the shard of light.

Yet the light seemed impossibly far away. As Wanglin reached out, his mind quivered, and he jolted back to reality.

“Master, that was five breaths.”

Wanglin stared at the sky in silence. The vision of light haunted him.

“My left eye saw it, but not my right. This pool is harder to read than I thought.” He glanced at the pool, now less than a third its original amount.

“Will the pool replenish once drained? I have already failed twice; what horrors await if I fail a third time?” Wanglin pondered, as he reached out. The Golden Sea Dragon appeared and roared, staring at Liu Jinbiao with arrogance.

Liu Jinbiao gasped, then smiled.

Wanglin was not paying attention. He ordered the dragon to pull him out of the water in case of danger. Once again, he closed his eyes for a third attempt.

This time, the moment he descended into the trance, a powerful force surged from the pool. It turned against him, turning the connection he sought into a barrier. From the pool, a primal screech filled his mind.
A feral roar, steeped in madness and bitter defiance, echoed with unnerving clarity.

“Lian Yun Jue, you craven dog!” The voice thundered within Wang Lin’s mind, a cacophony of sonic booms threatening to shatter his very being. A tremor seized him, his essence teetering on the precipice of collapse.

The intrusion shattered the fragile state of contemplation he sought, hindering his comprehension.

Suddenly, a titanic force seized him from the outside, as if an immense claw had gripped his form and yanked him from the Eastern Proximity Pool.

Released from the pool’s embrace, the agonizing voice vanished. Wang Lin opened his eyes, gazing back at the water, his expression darkening.

“The third attunement is forbidden indeed. Had I not been forewarned by the Eastern Proximity Sect’s ancient, this sudden assault would have cost me dearly in focus, if not outright incapacitated me.” Wang Lin frowned, settling by the pool’s edge, his eyes studying the dwindling waters with thoughtful intensity.

“Why did the first two passes prove untroubled, yet the third incite such wrath? That voice… it must be a manifestation, born from the strange energies that permeate this pool and enter my very soul. This power traces a path through my form… could that be the key? Is that journey a subtle form of examination, determining the number of times I’ve dared to trespass?”

“And Lian Yun Jue… ‘Lian’ is the family name… could it be the ancestor of Lian Dao Fei, the one they called Immortal Ancestor in ages past?” Wang Lin’s gaze flickered across the shimmering surface. As he mused, the waters of the pool, as if sensing his departure, began to bubble and churn, returning to their former level, the lost volume seemingly replenished.

“Jin Biao, you shall be my test subject.” Wang Lin, confident in his ability to shield Liu Jin Biao from the worst of the third attunement’s effects, shared his ordeal with the eager disciple, warning him to be vigilant.

Without hesitation, Liu Jin Biao strode forward, settling cross-legged within the pool.

Four breaths later, his eyes snapped open, clouded with confusion.

“I saw a glimmer of light…” Liu Jin Biao murmured, then closed his eyes once more. This time, only five breaths passed before he opened them again, a single, brilliant spark flashing within his left eye, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

“I was close, so very close to that light, yet I could not grasp it fully…” Liu Jin Biao paused, then, at Wang Lin’s urging, plunged into the depths of the third attunement.

Wang Lin watched, his gaze unwavering. One breath, then two, then three… ten breaths passed before Liu Jin Biao’s body was wracked with violent tremors. Wang Lin acted instantly, his right hand flashing out to snatch the disciple from the water.

Trembling, Liu Jin Biao opened his eyes, his left eye burning with such intense radiance that Wang Lin himself felt as if he were staring into the heart of the sun.

“I touched the light! A voice echoed within my soul, whispering its name: ‘Primordial Genesis’… the very beginning of all things… Alas, my cultivation is too weak; I could only comprehend a fraction before being overwhelmed.” Liu Jin Biao drew a deep breath, casting a wary glance back at the Eastern Proximity Pool.

“Master, I believe I could perceive the light a third time because of my Path of Deception. I momentarily deceived myself, convincing myself it was my first immersion… thus tricking the pool’s detection. Since my awakening, I find my deception arts can be used on others as well. Would you wish for me to assist you, Master?” Liu Jin Biao, seeming to have stumbled upon a crucial insight, turned towards Wang Lin.

Wang Lin considered for a moment, then shook his head. He possessed a rudimentary understanding of the Path of Deception, having experienced its influence in his own Dream Path. He understood the principle. His heart firm with resolve, he needed no assistance.

He stepped forward, immersing himself in the pool for the fourth time. Employing a similar tactic, he deceived the pool’s scrutiny the instant the strange energies began to permeate him, plunging once more into the attunement.

Quickly, within his left eye, he saw the glimmering spark… the light drew ever closer.

“I, Du, walk among the heavens, observing the myriad forms of nascent suns, seeking to comprehend the Primordial Genesis…” A low, sonorous voice echoed within Wang Lin’s soul, as if speaking to itself.

Are there any moon tickets left?!