Clad in a phoenix robe, its hues vibrant and bold, she possessed an aura of ethereal grace. Her face, veiled by cascading strings of pearls, hinted at a furrowed brow. With measured steps, she approached the Ancient Sovereign of the Dao.

The sound of tinkling chimes did not emanate from bells, but from the gentle collision of the beads that obscured her countenance, each movement creating a delicate melody.

Across the plaza, upon the platforms, the assembled members of the Three Veins watched, their gazes drawn to her. Not possessed of striking beauty, she radiated a serene aura, a calmness that soothed the soul, bringing tranquility to those who beheld her.

Her essence was peace itself, like a lily blooming in a secluded valley, its beauty and fragrance witnessed only by the soaring birds that occasionally glimpsed it from the clouds.

Standing motionless, Wang Lin felt the turmoil within him vanish at her arrival, as if it had never existed.

“Song Zhi…” The name escaped his lips, a whisper of recognition. He remembered her from his arrival in the Ancient Lands, near the Black Stone City of the Beginning Ancient Vein.

The Ancient Sovereign of the Dao, his eyes filled with admiration, watched the approaching phoenix-robed woman. With a flourish of his sleeve, he proclaimed, “My Queen, come, sit by my side. Today is a day of joy for the Dao Ancient Vein, a momentous occasion for us both.”

She paused, then continued towards him, settling gently upon the dragon throne beside the Sovereign. Raising her head, she gazed beyond the hall, her brow still furrowed, a hint of helplessness in her eyes.

Her gaze met Wang Lin’s, who stood transfixed within the hall.

Their eyes locked, and a thunderous roar echoed in Wang Lin’s mind, a symphony of celestial lightning shaking his very being, causing his spirit to tremble. It felt as though this woman was an integral, irreplaceable part of his soul.

His heart pounded within his chest, a frantic rhythm of familiarity and confusion. He knew her, yet the memory was shrouded in mist, the source of the recognition eluding him.

“Wan’er… Li Qianmei… Zhou Ru…” The names flickered through his mind, faces taking shape, yet none seemed to perfectly match.

“Or perhaps none of them…” He scrutinized her face, and a sense of unfamiliarity washed over him, a stark contrast to the figures that danced in his memory.

“Wang Lin!” A voice, devoid of warmth, yet laden with authority, echoed through the hall.

“Does the Queen hold such fascination for you?” The Ancient Sovereign of the Dao regarded Wang Lin with a chilling gaze. Even as a Sovereign, he found the man’s prolonged stare disrespectful. His brow furrowed, and his tone grew colder.

Wang Lin, stirred from his reverie, felt a complex mix of emotions. Ignoring the Sovereign’s reprimand, he continued to study the woman in the phoenix robe.

He sought the root of familiarity, yet his search ended in a sigh of regret and disappointment.

He did not recognize this woman.

The source of the familiarity, he realized, lay in her aura, a tranquil serenity akin to that of Li Muwan.

“It cannot be Wan’er… merely a similarity, a trick of the mind…” With his current cultivation, Wang Lin would have instantly recognized Li Muwan, yet he found no trace of her essence, only a superficial likeness.

“Wan’er is within the Sky-Shielding Coffin, her fragmented soul lost…” He closed his eyes, concealing the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm him. “This woman is not her, yet such a resemblance exists…”

The woman’s cheeks flushed with annoyance at Wang Lin’s brazen stare. A faint, fleeting sensation of familiarity stirred within her, only to vanish as quickly as it appeared.

“I asked you a question!” The Ancient Sovereign slammed his fist upon the dragon throne, the sound echoing through the hall.

In that instant, dozens of killing intents descended upon Wang Lin, shimmering, ethereal figures emerging from the shadows, poised to strike at the Sovereign’s command.

Upon the plaza and platforms, the Lan clan members sensed the tension, their gazes shifting between Wang Lin and the vexed woman in the phoenix robe.

“This woman resembles a former acquaintance of mine…” Wang Lin spoke, his heart aching at the sight of her displeasure. He knew now that she was not the one he sought.

Yet the shared aura stirred deep sorrow and a sense of profound loss.

“Oh?” A flicker of something unreadable crossed the Ancient Sovereign’s face as he glanced at the woman beside him before turning back to Wang Lin. A knowing smile played upon his lips.

“My Queen, do you recognize the future guardian of the Dao Ancient Vein?” he asked.

The woman lowered her head, shaking it gently.
“The Imperial Tutor assured me when he gifted this fragment of a soul,” the Daoist Emperor murmured, a slight smile gracing his lips, “that it bore his seal, preventing even the faintest whisper of its essence from escaping. Even those most intimately familiar with the woman it once belonged to would perceive nothing amiss. Save for a calculation that could surpass the Tutor’s own… even the might of a Grand Celestial would find no flaw.”

He paused, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Intriguing. Could this fragment, then, truly share a history of affection with this Wang Lin?” A surge of delight coursed through him, though his expression remained an inscrutable mask of pleasure.

“Perhaps you are indeed acquainted. Empress,” he addressed the woman adorned in phoenix robes, “descend, and stand before the future guardian of my Daoist lineage. Let him gaze upon you, and discern if you are kindred spirits of old. Such a revelation would be a joyous boon indeed.”

The Empress, silent until now, rose with graceful deliberation. Her gaze met Wang Lin’s across the hall, and she began to walk, her steps measured and deliberate. Wang Lin, for his part, stared back, transfixed. In her approach, he saw a fleeting phantom of Li Muwan, a memory so vivid it made his very being tremble.

The Empress halted a mere yard before him, her eyes, pools of serene composure, held a hint of cool disapproval. A disquieting familiarity, a haunting echo of the past, robbed Wang Lin of reason. He forgot the grandeur of the Daoist Imperial Palace, the alien soil of the Ancient Clan, the vast expanse of the Immortal Astral Continent. He was transported back to the Cave World, to the valley on Vermillion Bird Star, a lost soul staring into a face he knew, yet did not. In his eyes, a sorrow brewed that could melt the very heavens.

The Empress saw this grief, and a sharp pang pierced her heart. Her face paled, and a flicker of confusion clouded her eyes, only to be swiftly replaced by that same cool displeasure.

“You…” He choked on the word. “It is not her.” A bitter weariness washed over him. He yearned for the oblivion of drink, to drown the pain that clawed at his soul. He knew then that all he had felt was an illusion.

Yet, that illusion had stirred the slumbering memories, conjuring a thousand sunrises and sunsets from a bygone age. His sorrow deepened, a wellspring of grief threatening to consume him.

Staggering back, Wang Lin averted his gaze from the Empress, from the Daoist Emperor himself. He retreated to his table, slumped into his seat, and stared blankly at the polished surface. After an age, he seized the wine flask and took a long, desperate draught.

But the liquor, though fiery, could not extinguish the embers of his despair.

Wang Lin rarely wept, but now, as he drank, tears streamed silently down his face. They mingled with the wine, a bitter, briny concoction that mirrored the taste of his own anguish.

The Phoenix-Robed Empress returned to the side of the Daoist Emperor, resuming her seat in silence, her head bowed. A wider smile bloomed on the Emperor’s face, and his gaze flitted to Wang Lin, a flash of triumph and amusement dancing in his eyes.

“It seems, then, that Wang Lin is indeed acquainted with the soul fragment…” he mused to himself. “And that fleeting bewilderment she displayed upon merging must surely be linked to this Wang…” He sighed theatrically. “Alas, regardless of cultivation, regardless of ancestral blood, regardless even of having a Xuan Luo as master, the greatest tragedy lies in standing before one another, yet remaining strangers…” A chilling thought. “However, such events… they do pique my appetite.” With a booming laugh, the Daoist Emperor raised his cup, and once more, the thousands of assembled guests drank deeply into the night.

According to the traditions of the Daoist lineage, he should have dismissed the Phoenix-Robed Empress. Yet the Daoist Emperor, captivated by the unfolding drama, kept her by his side. He desired to witness Wang Lin’s reactions, to bask in the satisfaction and enjoyment it brought him.

At once, the Emperor’s mirth reached its apex, and the night banquet was filled with a roar of jubilant voices, toasts, and endless praise, a boisterous spectacle.

Amidst the clamor, only Wang Lin remained silent, drinking alone, the sorrow in his eyes defying the numbing embrace of the wine.

“Empress,” the Daoist Emperor said, his smile radiating false warmth, “It appears our esteemed Wang is feeling rather subdued. On my behalf, share a cup with him.”