Whispers carried on the wind spoke of the Ancient Ancestor, some believing he had never truly perished, but lingered still! Others, while conceding to mortality’s claim upon him, swore his spirit yet watched over them, a guardian of the Ancient Tribes’ three bloodlines. How else to explain the strange power emanating from his effigy in the heart of the royal cities? How else to account for the boons bestowed by the Ancestor’s Grace?

For when one sought to cleave their soul into the Threefold Ancient Path, halos of light would swirl around the statue. Nine shimmering rings would bloom during the first sundering, eighteen upon the second, and a glorious twenty-seven at the culmination of the third!

Now, within the Ancestral City, eighteen radiant rings encircled the ancestor’s likeness, casting a gentle luminescence and rippling outwards in waves that bathed the entire city, drawing all eyes to the spectacle.

A thousand paces from the Ancestral Shrine stood Song Tian. He watched the eighteen celestial rings with a contemplative silence, before turning and walking away. Three years prior, he had come to atone for past deeds, to find solace for a troubled heart.

He had served as a guardian for Wang Lin during these three years, though not alone. Yet, Song Tian had arrived with a purpose etched in his soul: to intervene should any peril threaten Wang Lin’s trial.

Now, with the first sundering complete, he felt his presence was no longer required. Without a backward glance, Song Tian departed, returning to his secluded mountain, resuming his meditation and withdrawing from the affairs of the Ancestral City.

Wang Lin sensed Song Tian’s departure. He remained seated within the Ancestral Shrine, his newly formed nascent soul radiating with a brilliance several times greater than before. With the soul’s expansion, Wang Lin felt a surge of power, a palpable strengthening of his very being, despite his cultivation realm remaining unchanged.

To a cultivator of his stature, even the slightest increment of strength was a significant boon!

“If I can successfully navigate the tribulations of the Ancient Tribes, if I can claim the Soul Blood… then perhaps, upon the Bridge to Ascendance, I might finally traverse that fourth span that eluded me long ago!” Wang Lin murmured.

He inhaled deeply, his eyes flashing with renewed determination as he gazed at the radiant aura above him.

“The first sundering consumed three years, the final moments bordering on death. Had my will faltered, I would have failed to unite and coalesce… This Threefold Ancient Path hinges on willpower, but leans heavily… on fortune!” Wang Lin frowned, now understanding why so few attempted to perfectly sundering.

Luck might grace one’s path once, perhaps even twice, but thrice in succession seemed an impossibility.

“Then this second…” Wang Lin closed his eyes, then abruptly opened them, his resolve strengthened.

“Luck holds sway, but a will strong enough to defy fate itself can overturn even the most improbable odds!” Wang Lin intoned, performing a hand seal and pointing towards the luminous aura above. At that moment, his eyes closed once more!

In that instant, the aura above him shuddered, hairline fractures spider-webbing across its surface. The Second Sundering of the Ancient Path had begun!

Upon the canvas of the Ancestral City sky, Xuan Luo watched with a subtle smile. He settled into a cross-legged stance, prepared to protect his disciple during this precarious undertaking.

His duty lay in safeguarding the Daoist Ancient lineage, but his disciple now stood vulnerable in his sundering, and equally demanded his protection.

Three years passed.

The eighteen rings surrounding the Ancestral Ancestor’s statue seemed to meld into the very fabric of the city. The Ancient Tribe citizens grew accustomed to their presence, taking the phenomenon for granted.

Though they still occasionally gazed upon the rings, their curiosity waned with time, replaced by a simple question: how long would he endure this second sundering?

Three years passed, then another three!

For six long years, the eighteen rings remained unchanged, shrouding the Ancestral City in perpetual twilight.

Even during the deepest nights, the light never truly faded.

When the tenth year of the second sundering arrived, young children born within the Ancestral City believed this perpetual twilight to be the natural state of their world.

Ten years of sundering – word of this feat spread throughout the Ancient Tribes. Members of the Daoist Ancient and Ascendant Ancient tribes journeyed to witness this spectacle.

Time flowed onward. Within the Ancestral Shrine, Wang Lin’s soul fragments began to crack during the tenth year, shattering into countless slivers. He endured unimaginable agony, yet refused to yield.

These invisible fragments were slowly breaking down, and when they crumbled into dust, it would signify the complete annihilation of his soul for the second time.

The Ancient Tribe Emperor, an aging patriarch, seemingly abandoned his unrealistic expectations, and started to slowly guide Ji Du to inherit his emperor title.

Less than forty years remained until Ji Du’s coronation. For a mortal, forty years was half a lifetime, but for one of the Ancient Tribes, it was long but not too far away.

As Ji Du was beginning to understand the many secrets of the Initial Ancient lineage, three more years passed.

Wang Lin’s second sundering had persisted for thirteen years! Then, half a year prior, a sudden surge of power erupted from the Ancestral Shrine, enshrouding the surrounding area and creating a strange energy. This energy prevented any divine sense from investigating, and forbade any to enter!

Xuan Luo stood in the sky, his face showing worry as he gazed at the Ancestral Shrine below. Not even his divine sense could penetrate the strange energy, and he even felt like even if he entered personally, he wouldn’t be able to enter the shrine.

This power belonged to the Ancient Ancestor, to that drop of Ancient Ancestor Soul Blood!
As the Ancestral Temple underwent this strange transformation, upon the Primeval Mountain, Song Tian, who had intended to ignore the affairs of the Temple, abruptly opened his eyes. A flicker of doubt, tinged with suspicion, ignited within them as he turned his gaze towards the Temple’s direction.

The thirteenth year waned, and the fourteenth dawned.

Within the swirling vortex of uncanny power, Wang Lin’s aura had vanished entirely, his fate unknown, suspended between life and death. Even the lingering echoes of his first Divine Severance, the tendrils of will he had cast out, could no longer be sensed.

The sole testament to the possibility of Wang Lin’s continued existence lay in the eighteen rings of light that still encircled the Ancient Ancestor’s effigy.

Unbeknownst to all, within the Ancestral Temple, the myriad formless shards that had once coalesced around Wang Lin’s body had, half a year prior, disintegrated completely into dust. They had fragmented beyond the point of simple breakage, fully cleaved apart.

Yet, in their shattered state, they exhibited an utter inability to recombine. For the past six months, Wang Lin, driven by a will of unimaginable magnitude, had relentlessly attempted to forge them back together, only to be met with failure.

With each failed attempt, his will, the last flickering flame within him, diminished further, becoming ever more frail and imperceptible. His body, devoid of all vital essence, clung to existence solely through this dwindling will, stubbornly pushing onwards towards reunification.

Fleeting glimmers of light would erupt upon his form, slowly gathering together, faintly outlining a shimmering silhouette. But even this nascent form would falter, collapsing in a cataclysmic burst that scattered the light in all directions, each spark dimming and vanishing into the void.

This was the thirteenth such attempt.

Stripped of thought and awareness, Wang Lin, fueled by his remaining vestige of will, launched himself into a fourteenth attempt at reintegration. As motes of light once more began to coalesce around his body, the fourteenth year slipped away.

The dawn of the fifteenth year brought with it a startling transformation to the eighteen rings of light surrounding the Ancient Ancestor’s effigy. This change captivated the attention of every clansman within the Primeval Imperial City, stirring a new wave of astonishment amongst those who had grown accustomed to their presence.

Even the Primeval Imperial Sovereign, who had dismissed the matter, emerged from his chambers, his breath catching in his throat as he gazed upon the distant effigy.

Ji Du soared through the air, hovering in the sky, her eyes fixated on the spectacle, her hands unconsciously clenching into fists.

Song Tian, upon the Horned Peak of the Otherworld Mountain, watched with rapt attention, his brow furrowed in uncertainty.

For one of the eighteen rings of light was fading with alarming speed. An hour later, it shattered, dispersing into countless fragments, and vanished entirely.

Thus, the Ancient Ancestor’s effigy was left encircled by only seventeen rings.

“A Divine Severance ring has shattered! What could have caused this?!”

“Could it be that his second Severance has failed, leading to his demise? Otherwise, such a thing could never happen!”

“I remember! I once overheard that the Ancient Dao’s Three Severances are not endless, and are limited by time! Could it be that he has reached the time limit for his second Severance?”

Whispers of speculation spread throughout the Primeval Imperial City.

“He has reached the time limit for his second Severance. If Wang Lin fails to complete his integration before all eighteen rings are extinguished, his soul will be scattered to the winds!” Song Tian inhaled sharply, his gaze fixed on the Ancestral Temple, a deep crease forming between his brows.

Xuan Luo, high in the celestial sphere, witnessed this event, his expression shifting dramatically. With his stature, he instantly recognized the cause of the ring’s disintegration. Without hesitation, he descended from the heavens, hurtling towards the Ancestral Temple.

Song Tian had been aware of Xuan Luo’s presence for some time but had refrained from interference. Even now, despite witnessing his descent, he hesitated, ultimately choosing not to intervene.

Xuan Luo reached the Ancestral Temple in the blink of an eye and stepped inside without pause. But the instant he crossed the threshold, a force of immense power erupted, slamming into him with a resounding boom. Xuan Luo staggered, unable to penetrate the barrier, forcibly repelled.

As this transpired, the second, third, fourth… and finally the eleventh ring of light around the Ancient Ancestor’s effigy shattered, one after another.