In the ancient lands of the Daogu, three havens of untold fortune lay hidden, prepared by Xuan Luo for his disciple, Wang Lin: a secluded valley nestled within the mountain’s embrace, a deep, shadowed pool upon the plains, and a vast, subterranean necropolis crafted in ages long forgotten.

Within the mountain valley, by the still pool, and amidst the silent tombs, the figures of master and student were ever present.

In the heart of the deep pool, a miasma of potent savagery churned. There, Wang Lin sat in tranquil meditation, unmoving for three moons. Xuan Luo kept vigil at the pool’s edge, a benevolent smile upon his face as he watched over his student.

The cliffs that cradled the valley were etched with an intricate tapestry of runes. Each glyph throbbed with the power of ancient enchantments, turning the valley into the famed Forbidden Valley of the Daogu lineage. No ordinary soul dared tread there. Xuan Luo, centuries past, had sealed the valley, dedicating it to his disciple as a place to grasp the very essence of restriction. And within this Forbidden Valley, Wang Lin delved into the secrets of enchantment for three moons.

Beneath the Daogu lands lay a cryptic realm, a necropolis not of bone, but of abandoned artifacts. Useless and forgotten, these relics of a bygone era had been reverently interred, as though in solemn remembrance. Infused with the lingering power of these objects, the necropolis was steeped in the energies of the five elements. Through the slow passage of time, this elemental essence had grown thick and rich, almost birthing an origin of its own. Here, too, Wang Lin meditated for three moons. Reluctantly, he ceased absorbing the elemental essence and departed with Xuan Luo.

They journeyed onward, to the ancient lands of the Shigu, where Wang Lin was granted an audience with the Grand Celestial of that lineage. Across three of the Shigu’s twelve provinces, he sat in contemplation and enlightenment for five months.

Then came the lands of the Jigu. Though the Grand Celestial of the Jigu remained unseen, Wang Lin spent nearly half a year in similar pursuits within its twelve provinces.

Thus, a year and a half drifted by since Wang Lin and Xuan Luo had departed the Daogu imperial city.

A year and a half free from peril, free from the struggle for survival. Wang Lin’s sole task was to absorb as much primal power as possible, to hasten his ascension. He needed not concern himself with strategy or danger. His master, Xuan Luo, attended to all.

Wang Lin felt that Xuan Luo treated him not as a mere disciple, but as a true son, without calculation or deception. The gaze his master cast upon him during meditation held a warmth like a comforting hearth. Such feelings were rare in Wang Lin’s life, and all the more precious. He cherished this time, Xuan Luo’s tutelage, and the elusive joy he had so long sought.

Deep within his heart, he desired this existence to continue forever. He would even bear the pressure from the Daogu Emperor, if it meant preserving this peace.

“My master treats me thus… I will defend the Daogu.” The vow echoed within his soul.

He valued loyalty and affection. Xuan Luo had shown him grace in the Realm of the Caves, and the Ancient Clan had bestowed upon him the affection of a teacher. He recognized these gifts and held them close. He would not disappoint Xuan Luo.

This year and a half of wandering reached its end. With the Ancient Three Clans behind them, Xuan Luo led Wang Lin to the Ancient Dao Mountain.

The Ancient Dao Mountain marked the meeting point of the Ancient Three Clans and the abode of the Ancient Dao Grand Celestial. It was known as the Sacred Mountain, a holy ground, all in honor of the Ancient Dao Grand Celestial.

At the base of the mountain, even Xuan Luo displayed reverence. Forgoing flight, he ascended the steps of the sacred mountain with Wang Lin, like pilgrims. The steps stretched endlessly towards the heavens, veiled in mist, their summit lost to view. Yet, a faint silhouette could be glimpsed, and an overwhelming aura of authority pervaded all.

“If the Ancient Dao Grand Celestial grants you audience, remember to show the utmost respect. He is our elder, and even I must offer obeisance.” Xuan Luo, leading the way, turned to Wang Lin with a kindly gaze.

“Rest assured, Master, I understand.” Wang Lin replied, his heart warmed by Xuan Luo’s countless reminders, like those of an anxious elder guiding a favored nephew. Though Xuan Luo appeared as youthful as Wang Lin, his concern was that of a true mentor.

“The Ancient Dao Grand Celestial is a contemporary of the Ancient Ancestor himself, and the protector of our clan. Without him, the Xian would have surely devoured us ages ago.” Xuan Luo gazed at the mountain’s peak, his voice filled with heartfelt respect.

“When I was amongst the Xian, I read of the Ancient Dao Grand Celestial in their scrolls. They say his power transcends even that of a Grand Celestial, and that he alone has slain multiple Grand Celestials in combat. Such a figure I hold in highest esteem,” Wang Lin said, his gaze fixed upon the mountain’s apex.

“I cannot fathom the true extent of the Ancient Dao Grand Celestial’s power. In his presence, I feel like a mere mortal,” Xuan Luo confessed with a sigh.

“The Ancient Dao Grand Celestial rarely summons members of the Ancient Clans, save for the coronation of each Ancient Emperor. Then, they are called to receive his blessing.” Xuan Luo continued to climb, unease prickling at the edge of his mind.

“I have brought Wang Lin here… I know not if the Ancient Dao Grand Celestial will deign to see him. I informed him of Wang Lin’s acquisition of ten drops of the Ancient Ancestor’s blood, and that the tenth was a soul-blood. I hope the Ancient Dao Grand Celestial will at least grant my disciple an audience.” Xuan Luo fell silent, his apprehension growing with each step toward the summit.
Should the Ancient Dao Celestial deign to summon Wang Lin, then his charge to safeguard the Dao Ancient bloodline would proceed with ease, his very identity consecrated by the Ancient Dao. Within the Dao Ancient clan, Wang Lin would rise to a position of unmatched eminence. Even should Yè Dao harbor jealous resentment, he would not dare utter a word against Wang Lin.

But should the Ancient Dao Celestial withhold his summons…玄羅 sighed inwardly. In truth, his very act of bringing Wang Lin here bore the risk of incurring the Ancient Dao Celestial’s displeasure. To bring him unbidden, without a summons…

All he did, he did for the sake of the Dao Ancient lineage. Likewise, he sought to ensure that his disciple would not suffer humiliation in his guardianship of the Dao Ancient.

On one side lay the clan whose protection had been his life’s devotion, on the other, his sole disciple, whom he held in such high regard, even as a son. 玄羅 yearned to achieve a balance between these two cherished obligations.

Wang Lin followed behind玄羅, his gaze fixed upon his mentor’s back. It was not a towering figure, yet it radiated a warmth that Wang Lin had rarely known, a warmth that had companioned him for a year and a half.

“…The Ancient clan… I feel no kinship towards it. I am here for Master玄羅. I will protect the Dao Ancient lineage for Master玄羅’s sake alone…” Wang Lin walked in silence.

Their steps were soundless, as if absorbed into the stillness of the Ancient Dao Mountain. Slowly, they ascended to the mountain’s peak, where Wang Lin beheld a towering spire!

It was a nine-storied edifice, guarded by four immense pillars, each bound to the spire’s apex by iron chains. Upon these chains hung countless bells, and as Wang Lin and玄羅 approached, a breeze seemed to awaken them, causing them to chime with a clear, resonant clang.

The sound was strangely pleasing, seeping into the mind, dispelling stray thoughts, and clarifying the spirit. Even the Ancient clan power within stirred to a faster rhythm.

Standing there, Wang Lin’s complexion paled slightly. He felt the weight of his cultivation being ruthlessly suppressed, yet the Ancient clan power within him remained unbowed, even flourishing with renewed vitality.

The suppression of his cultivation and origins felt as if he bore the weight of mountains upon his shoulders, leaving him breathless. Yet he gritted his teeth and stood firm behind玄羅.

Upon the four immense pillars, four figures sat in lotus position. Each was a lean, middle-aged man, clad in drab gray robes. Their garments fluttered in the wind, yet their eyes remained resolutely closed, as if even玄羅’s arrival could not stir them from their meditation.

Wang Lin, though pale, swept his gaze across the four figures. To his eyes, they appeared as mortals, utterly devoid of any trace of Ancient clan power.

“…This humble one,玄羅, seeks an audience with the Ancient Dao Celestial,”玄羅 announced, cupping his fist respectfully towards the towering spire.

Wang Lin followed suit, bowing his head in reverence.

A profound silence settled upon the scene, broken only by the constant chime of the wind-blown bells. The clang, clang, clang seemed to carry a strange, unsettling power, intensifying the suppression of Wang Lin’s origins and cultivation. Beads of cold sweat trickled down his brow.

After an age, the door to the spire’s first level silently swung inwards, revealing a single figure: a boy with a shaven head, clad in similar gray robes. He bowed deeply towards玄羅.

“…The Ancient Lord is currently in spirit communion. Please, Celestial玄羅, await his return,” the boy said calmly, his tone respectful.

“…No matter. I shall await him here,”玄羅 replied with a smile, showing no sign of impatience.

The boy glanced briefly at Wang Lin, then returned his gaze to玄羅, bowing once more before retreating back into the spire. The tower door slowly closed shut.

Time flowed on, and three days passed. Throughout those days,玄羅 stood unwavering, his respect unyielding. Wang Lin stood behind his mentor, and those three days felt to him like three years, three centuries!

For the chimes of the bells never ceased. Their constant resonance hammered upon Wang Lin’s mind, threatening to dissolve his Immortal clan cultivation and the very essence of his being.

It was as if they sought to force him to abandon his origins and cultivation, leaving only the Ancient clan power within him. As if seeking to dissolve the single drop of ancestral blood within him, scattering it throughout the entirety of his blood vessels.

(To be continued…)