The woman in the phoenix robes sighed, a delicate sound lost amidst the clamor. She harbored no love for such boisterous gatherings, especially not the gaze of Wang Lin, which unsettled her deeply, a thorn pricking at her heart for reasons she could not fathom.

Each attempt to decipher the source of this unease only led to deeper bewilderment.

Rising gracefully, a spectral figure materialized beside her, offering a goblet with deferential grace. The phantom then drifted behind her, a silent attendant as she navigated the throng towards Wang Lin’s table.

He sat there, head bowed, having already emptied seven or eight flagons in a short span. Lifting his gaze to the woman before him, the world seemed to blur once more.

“You…” She began, her voice barely a whisper.

“Can you play the qin?” Wang Lin interjected, his voice laced with bitterness. He scoffed at his own question, then rose, seized a flagon, and clinked it against the goblet in her hand. He drained the entire flagon in one draught, then spun and soared into the heavens in a streak of vibrant light.

Scattered wine droplets danced in the air, one landing on her cheek, cold as a winter’s frost.

“Wan’er…” his voice echoed in her mind, though his form was already distant in the sky. “Where does your soul reside?!”

The lament, laced with heartrending sorrow, reached not only her ears but also a portion of the assembled guests and the Dao Ancient Emperor in his grand hall. A knowing smile played on his lips as he raised his own goblet, taking a measured sip.

Unseen by all, including Wang Lin, the woman in the phoenix robes shuddered upon hearing the name Wan’er. Her eyes flickered with a struggle between confusion and an unknown longing. But the conflict soon faded, leaving her expression vacant and hollow.

She turned and walked back towards the grand hall, leaving behind the vibrant revelry, now a cruel mockery of her inner turmoil.

“Wan’er… I would overturn the very cosmos to set your reflection aright…”

Wan’er, I dyed the firmament crimson with fire, only to give you a reason to open your eyes once more.

Wan’er, I shattered the world with thunder, only to have my voice reach your ears.

Wan’er, I traversed countless miles, wandered through realm after realm, searching only for the whisper of your breath.

Wan’er, I embraced the path of demons, defied heaven, and slaughtered immortals, overturning the very fabric of existence. I stand before you, a solitary figure burdened with sorrow, hoping only to see the peace reflected in your eyes.

Wan’er, where does your soul slumber?!

Tears streamed down Wang Lin’s face as he walked aimlessly through the brightly lit Dao Ancient Imperial City. His back was bent with the weight of sorrow, his silhouette a poignant symbol of loneliness and despair.

His grief was buried deep, usually shrouded by the cold realities of survival. But tonight, the sight of the woman with that familiar essence had shattered his defenses. He could no longer deceive himself, and the tears flowed freely.

He walked on, each step heavier than the last, the tears disappearing into the unknown rooftops. He could still hear the echoes of the palace festivities, but he neither desired nor could bear to listen. He longed only for solitude, a place to quietly count the memories that haunted him.

He returned to the Dao Ancient Hall, to the simple wooden hut that was his sanctuary. Inside, he closed the door and sat in silent contemplation. He had no desire to cultivate, no interest in the Tianzun of Yang slumbering in the subterranean cave. He simply stared out the window at the kaleidoscopic sky, lost in thought.

“I possess power that rivals the heavens…” he murmured, “Yet to what end?”

“I wield a will that can defy the very stars…” he continued, “But what does it avail me?”

“I am the protector of the Dao Ancient lineage, yet I cannot find peace for Wan’er…”

Pain etched itself upon Wang Lin’s face. He had refused to confront this truth for so long, using the relentless pursuit of power as a means of numbing himself, of convincing himself that only by growing stronger could he find Wan’er’s soul.

He had lied to himself for millennia, but the sight of Song Zhi in the palace, with her haunting resemblance to Wan’er, had unleashed a torrent of memories and longing.

Time flowed slowly as Wang Lin locked himself away, enduring the gnawing pain in his heart. Before his eyes, the past unfolded, a bittersweet tapestry that offered him a momentary reprieve from his isolation.

Like the ancestor of the Eastern Serenity Sect, he found himself in a desolate solitude, his only companions the memories he cherished.

“Is it possible…” he whispered, “That such a kindred spirit could exist?” But she is not Wan’er, she is Song Zhi… the woman I saw outside Blackrock City…”

After a long silence, Wang Lin forced down the pain and memories. He could not afford to become vulnerable; it would only hinder his search for Wan’er’s soul.

He sighed deeply, and when he opened his eyes again, they held a semblance of calm, though a faint undercurrent of sorrow still lingered.

“Song Zhi…” Wang Lin murmured, raising his right hand. In a flash, a series of overlapping phantoms appeared around him, the five true bodies manifested, surrounding a golden orb of origin. Within that orb, a blurred figure sat in meditation, the nascent form of the gold origin’s true body.

He sought to calm himself, to push the thoughts of Wan’er and Song Zhi aside, to convince himself that they were separate. He looked at the golden orb, his face haggard, and closed his eyes once more, preparing to use cultivation as a shield against his memories.

But just as his eyelids met, Wang Lin snapped them open, his eyes ablaze with icy light and a look of profound astonishment.

“No! That is wrong!”

“I saw Song Zhi outside Blackrock City. At that time, she did not evoke the same feeling as she did tonight. Back then, she was ordinary, unremarkable. Though she possessed a certain serenity, it was nothing like the aura she projected in the palace!”

Wang Lin shuddered.

“If she had been the same then as she was in the palace, I could not have failed to notice. I would have felt the same familiar ache, the same inexplicable connection!

But I felt nothing at that time. So why, upon seeing her again in the palace, did this overwhelming sense of familiarity overwhelm me?!
A disquiet festered deep within.

“The Dao Ancient Emperor chose a consort, a search spanning centuries, yet settled upon one seemingly unexceptional. Song Zhi possessed no captivating beauty; why then did the Emperor favor her?”

Centuries of scrutiny, for what manner of consort did the Dao Ancient Emperor yearn? Why did Song Zhi undergo such a transformation? Her prior presence was unremarkable, yet within the palace walls, she radiated an alien power!

“Why did the Imperial Palace incite such disquiet within me? Why did the Emperor stir within me a thirst for vengeance? And why did the arrival of Song Zhi quell this unsettling feeling?!!!”

Wang Lin surged to his feet, trembling. Light blazed from his eyes, engulfing the humble wooden dwelling. His hair danced as if possessed, as a hidden power threatened to erupt.

“Yet, I probed her essence with my spiritual sense, and detected nothing amiss. She appeared ordinary, save for a familiar aura, a whisper of recognition.”

“Why this…?” Wang Lin’s very soul trembled. He heard the frantic drumbeat of his heart, a sensation alien for millennia. Agitation warred with hesitation, perplexity intermingled with doubt. He grappled with disbelief, with the earth-shattering certainty that refused to take root.

A simmering flame threatened to consume him, restrained with utmost effort.

“Centuries of searching… the stark contrast in Song Zhi’s nature… what secrets lay concealed? What truth drove me to the brink of madness?!” Wang Lin’s face twisted in anguish, battling for control. He yearned to storm the palace, seize the Dao Ancient Emperor, and tear the truth from his very soul!

But he… could not.

He was a disciple of Xuan Luo, a guardian of the Dao Ancient lineage. Xuan Luo had shown him immense kindness, treated him with the love of a true master. He could not, without irrefutable proof, assault the Emperor and betray Xuan Luo’s faith.

Resolve hardened in Wang Lin’s eyes. He raised his hand, grasping at the void. A black jade slip materialized, pulsing with an unholy light. A single glance threatened to ensnare the mind, to drown it in bottomless darkness. This was the artifact of the Great Soul Sect’s ancestor, the patriarch who had sacrificed all for his clan, baring his heart and brain in a plea for forgiveness, as if weighing conscience against calculation, as if questioning Wang Lin himself.

“This jade slip can assist you in divining a past alteration,” the words echoed in Wang Lin’s mind, a relic of its acquisition.

Without hesitation, he crushed the jade slip, chanting arcane syllables. Uncountable motes of black smoke coalesced in his open palm, forming a tiny, kneeling figure. It bowed its head nine times.

With each bow, Wang Lin’s mind exploded with visions. He saw the Cave World, and a crystalline hand plucking the remnants of Li Muwan’s soul from the tapestry of existence.

He saw a figure shrouded in iridescent light within a hidden chamber, its fingers clutching a single bead. Within that bead, Li Muwan’s soul trembled, eyes closed in torment.

He heard the indistinct whispers of the figure to a regal man, clad in imperial robes, his face etched with shock.

He saw that Emperor, his countenance transformed with joy, carry away the soul. He watched as centuries passed, the Emperor failing in countless attempts to infuse it into consorts. Finally, he saw a familiar face, Song Zhi, merge with the stolen soul.

He saw the Emperor, within the palace, pinching the face of the unconscious woman, forcing her to weep in agony.

And he heard the Emperor’s words.

That Emperor… was the Dao Ancient Emperor!

“Hua Dao! I will kill you!!!” Wang Lin roared, his eyes bloodshot, his hair a chaotic whirlwind, a sound that threatened to shatter the heavens and topple emperors!

His cry contained a madness, a determination to obliterate everything, including himself, to unleash his rage without restraint.

This was Wang Lin, the most primal roar of his existence, a sound that would shake the very foundations of the cosmos!

This was Wang Lin, fueled by incandescent wrath!