A piercing shriek, like the rending of stars, reverberated across the vast alabaster plaza and the scores of platforms where stood the gathered scions of the Three Veins. Faces paled, disbelief writ large upon them, for they could scarcely credit that Wang Lin, who had so recently departed with downcast spirit, now dared to return in a whirlwind of fury, his intent nothing less than the slaying of the Dao Ancient Emperor!

Yet the mangled corpse, the crimson ruin of a guardian slain, bore silent, irrefutable witness to the truth of this impossible act.

Before the assembled throng could fully recover from the shock of that primal scream, a thunderous detonation rent the air. From beyond the plaza’s edge, a gargantuan hand, hundreds of feet in span, descended with terrifying swiftness. Upon it, unnaturally, were ten fingers, reaching, grasping, as it sought to crush the heart of the imperial palace. But an instant before its impact, a shimmering azure barrier sprang into existence, intercepting the monstrous appendage.

A cataclysmic collision shook the very foundations of the palace, the earth groaning under the strain. The ten-fingered hand dissolved in a shower of ethereal light, but the azure shield, fractured and shimmering, followed it into oblivion, its fragments ascending like the souls of the departed.

A wind, heavy with the metallic tang of blood, swept across the alabaster plaza, settling upon the stunned silence. Every eye, in morbid fascination, turned toward the point where the spectral hand had vanished, faces etched with apprehension.

The Dao Ancient Emperor, his visage ashen, clenched his fist, his gaze fixed upon that unseen horror, a flicker of fear warring with the incandescent rage in his eyes.

Beside him, Song Zhi stared in the same direction, a veil of bewilderment clouding her features. Yet, a tremor ran through her very being, a sense of long-dormant memories stirring, threatening to break free.

The two spectral guardians, tasked with escorting her away, seemed to have forgotten their emperor’s command. Their pupils contracted, their ethereal forms shuddered, as they, too, stared transfixed at the place where the monstrous hand had faded.

There, amidst the swirling twilight, a crimson mist writhed and pulsed, a gruesome spectacle that sent shivers down the spine. And from within that ghastly shroud, a rhythmic footfall echoed, each step falling like a hammer blow upon the hearts of those who heard it. A primal dread, like a poisonous vine, began to coil itself around their souls.

With each measured tread, the nobles of the Three Veins, seated at their low tables on the edge of the plaza, recoiled, their faces contorted in abject terror. The figure emerging from that bloody haze was to them a primordial beast, capable of devouring worlds and extinguishing all life.

“Slay him!” The Dao Ancient Emperor’s voice, sharp and clear, shattered the oppressive silence. His tone was strangely calm, betraying none of the terror that raged within him, yet the dilation of his pupils, the subtle tremor in his jaw, gave lie to his composure.

At his command, a dozen ethereal figures, resembling wisps of smoke, materialized from the depths of the grand hall. With a swiftness that defied mortal perception, they hurtled toward the crimson mist, vanishing within its crimson depths.

Almost instantaneously, a chorus of bloodcurdling screams erupted, each one a desperate, agonizing lament that echoed through the plaza, only to be abruptly silenced, swallowed by the encroaching darkness.

Though the cries faded, their lingering echo reverberated within the hearts of all present, casting a deeper pall upon the Emperor’s already darkening countenance.

“Take the Empress away!” He barked, turning his gaze upon the two spectral guardians flanking Song Zhi. They flinched, and with a frantic bow, transformed into a swirling vortex of energy, enveloping the Empress. The vortex spun rapidly, seeking to whisk her away toward the sanctuary of the inner palace.

But at that very moment, a chilling, maddened roar tore through the air, emanating from the heart of the bloody mist.

“You dare!” The voice, imbued with a raw, piercing power, halted the vortex’s retreat. The guardians, seized by an unseen force, froze mid-stride, an unnamable dread paralyzing them. It was as if to take another step would invite some unimaginable calamity.

As they faltered, their protective vortex collapsing, a figure began to emerge from the crimson shroud. With each echoing footstep, the silhouette grew clearer, solidifying from the swirling chaos.

And as the figure fully emerged from the bloody mist, every eye in the plaza, compelled by some primal force, turned to witness the spectacle.

A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Adorned with white hair and wearing a white robe now stained crimson, his eyes burned with a furious, all-consuming light, veins of blood streaking across their surfaces. Madness danced within their depths.

It was Wang Lin!

He had clawed his way back, a relentless force of vengeance, leaving a trail of fallen imperial guards in his wake. He stood once more upon the alabaster plaza, not as a humble messenger bearing gifts, but as a storm of retribution, come to claim a prize and to steal a soul.

“Wang Lin, what is the meaning of this?!” The Dao Ancient Emperor’s voice trembled, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with the intruder. The vast expanse of the plaza, and the ranks of the Three Veins, stood between them.

Wang Lin, his form wreathed in the dissipating mists, did not deign to acknowledge the Emperor’s question. Instead, his gaze softened, his burning eyes focusing solely upon Song Zhi, whose face was still etched with confusion.

“I have come to take her away!” He declared, his voice cold and resolute, as he pointed a finger toward Song Zhi, standing beside the Emperor.

The Dao Ancient Emperor, struck by the sheer audacity of Wang Lin’s words, felt his heart surge with rage. He was the Emperor, the supreme ruler of the Dao Ancient Vein, a descendant of the ancient founders, favored by the heavens themselves.

His word was law, his will absolute. And yet, on the very eve of his wedding, within the hallowed halls of the imperial palace, before the assembled scions of the Three Veins, he was being challenged, his bride being demanded by a man he had once deemed an insignificant insect! Laughter, dark and laced with fury, bubbled in his throat.

“Wang Lin, you are a disciple of the Xuan Venerate, a future protector of the Dao Ancient Vein! I have always treated you with respect and generosity. When you refused to kneel, I did not force you. When you wished to depart the feast, I granted your request…

“Wang Lin, you have crossed the line! You claim to protect my Daogu lineage, yet you seek to destroy it! Such a traitor deserves death!” The Daogu Emperor roared, his sleeves billowing with fury. He cast a dark glance toward the Daogu Palace. “Guards! Slay this Wang Lin! Bring me his head!”

Wang Lin closed his eyes, a storm raging within. For the sake of his master, he had forced a fragile calm upon his madness. He had offered the Emperor a chance. If the Emperor relinquished Song Zhi, the vessel of Wan’er’s shattered soul, perhaps reconciliation could still be found…

But no.

Wang Lin opened his eyes. The embers of madness flared, igniting a conflagration of killing intent.

“Refusal… then you shall die!” He roared, his voice shaking the very foundations of the plaza. With a single step, he moved forward. At his advance, the Daogu clansmen, bound by the Emperor’s decree, charged forth, their faces contorted in desperate cries. They knew they were outmatched, but they sought to halt his progress, to quench the fire in his eyes.

Among the ancient clans, imperial authority reigned supreme. In the Daogu lineage, the Emperor’s word was law, his command inviolable. To defy him was to become a traitor, deserving only death.

Undaunted, Wang Lin continued his march. Each footfall echoed like thunder, each step leaving a trail of devastation. Those who dared to stand before him, regardless of their cultivation or standing, shattered into crimson mist with but a tremor of his being.

The plaza became a charnel ground, yet still they came. More Daogu warriors surged forth, their eyes burning with fanatic zeal. Even some from the other clans, driven by duty or fear, joined the fray, their weapons aimed at Wang Lin.

The distance between Wang Lin and the Daogu Emperor, cloistered within the great hall, spanned leagues. Yet with each relentless stride, Wang Lin drew closer, a tempest of wrath carving a path toward his target.

“Those who obstruct me, die!” Wang Lin bellowed, unleashing a fist that roared like a dragon. Dozens of Daogu clansmen vaporized before its raw power.

Then, a new horror descended. Above each Daogu warrior, vast spectral forms manifested – colossal echoes of ancient gods, demons, and fiends. Thousands of these phantasms coalesced, their roars shaking the heavens as they plunged toward Wang Lin.

Wang Lin did not falter. He too called upon his lineage, summoning a Daogu wraith of his own. The colossal figure loomed behind him, dwarfing the surrounding specters, as if a pillar holding up the sky. With a single, defiant gesture, Wang Lin raised his arm and swung.

His spectral echo mirrored his movement, unleashing a devastating wave of force. The thousands of ancient forms shattered against it, and thousands of Daogu warriors coughed up blood and exploded in sprays of gore.

Wang Lin staggered, his eyes burning with a madness that threatened to consume him. He pressed onward, reaching the heart of the plaza, now closer than ever to the Emperor’s sanctuary.

“Sound the drums! Activate the Sky Citadel’s defenses! Summon all warriors of the Daogu bloodline! Hasten to the palace and extinguish this abomination!” The Daogu Emperor’s voice was laced with terror. He retreated into the depths of the hall.

At his command, a surge of movement erupted within the palace. Shadowy figures materialized and surged toward the plaza. Every warrior within the palace walls converged, a tide of steel preparing to break upon Wang Lin.

Then, the drums began to beat: *Boom… Boom… Boom…* Their resonance echoed throughout the Sky Citadel. The wind howled and the clouds shifted.

The drumming was unlike any heard before, carrying a strange and potent energy. This was the Daogu drum, a sacred call sounded only in times of dire peril.

Every Daogu warrior who heard its lament was duty-bound to defend their lineage with their very life.

Across the Sky Citadel, hundreds of teleportation arrays flickered to life. Through each portal, Daogu warriors poured forth, summoned to the palace at impossible speeds.