Wang Lin departed. As his silhouette faded from the Realm of the Caves, a woman stood on a humble cultivation star within the Roaming Heaven Starfield. She was garbed in robes of deepest violet, and her silken hair cascaded to her waist. Perched atop a towering peak, the wind playfully danced with her unbound tresses and the hem of her gown, her expression one of tranquil elegance. She gazed skyward, the sun’s embrace revealing the faintest down upon her cheek. Her eyes, clouded with a fleeting bewilderment, recalled a fleeting touch—a divine sense that had brushed against her, lingered a moment, then vanished like mist upon the dawn. She had dismissed it as a phantom of the mind until, where that presence had been, a jade slip materialized, suspended in the air and radiating a soft, ethereal glow. She was Xizi Feng.

Transfixed, she stared at the jade, its gentle light bearing a resonance that tugged at her very soul, a whisper of memory both haunting and beloved. “Wang Lin…” The name escaped her lips, a sigh upon the wind. After an age of silence, she raised a hand, delicate as a lotus bloom, and gently took the jade. Closing her eyes, she surrendered her spirit to its depths. Within, echoed the voice of Wang Lin. An eternity seemed to pass. When Xizi Feng opened her eyes once more, a tender smile graced her face, a beacon of unutterable beauty.

Far away, also within the Realm of the Caves, a desolate expanse of the cosmos played host to a chaotic ballet of asteroids and shattered worlds. These fragments, bound by an unseen force, swirled in a vast, elliptical dance. At the heart of this celestial storm, nestled within a colossal shard of rock, sat an ancient one. His countenance, serene and ruddy, betrayed nothing of his ordeal. At intervals, a pallid grey light emanated from his form, as if expelling a tainted essence. This ashen aura seeped into the surrounding stone, only to be absorbed by the brethren shards nearby.

In ages past, these floating remnants had not existed. They were the progeny of the elder’s slow and arduous work, a consequence of his formidable arts. This was none other than the petrified statue from the depths of the Wind Immortal Realm, the one who resided within the cavern. Were it not for him, Wang Lin might have been crushed in his fateful battle against the Water Dao Child. Now, with eyes shut in peaceful meditation, the elder labored to expel the petrifying force that plagued him. The debris field was a testament to his efforts.

“Three centuries more, and I shall be whole again…” he mused. “Then, I shall depart this place, to return… home…” He opened his eyes, their gaze piercing the shroud of stone, venturing into the vast, untamed expanse of the stars. He was no son of the Realm of the Caves. He hailed from the Immortal-Astral Continent, from the Seven Dao Sect… In truth, he was merely a disciple of the legendary Seven-Colored Immortal. A melancholic whisper escaped him. He had lingered long in this Realm, and a pang of regret tugged at his heart.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes, preparing to resume his meditation. But at that very instant, a wave of divine sense crashed upon his sanctuary. The sheer power of this presence sent tremors through his very being. He knew, with absolute certainty, that had the wielder of this force wished it, he would never have sensed its coming. Its power was akin to the heavens themselves. The divine sense swept through his domain without pause, and then, in the wake of its departure, a crimson pill materialized before him. The pill pulsed with an almost palpable celestial energy. Even a mere whiff of its fragrance seemed to quell the insidious petrification that plagued his flesh.

He beheld the pill, recalling the potent divine sense that had left it behind. A flicker of recognition ignited in his eyes. After a long silence, he murmured: “It is… him…”

Simultaneously, as Wang Lin stepped beyond the Realm of the Caves, upon a humble cultivation star adrift in the outer star sea, an infant, cradled within the star’s core, twitched, its eyelids fluttering as if on the cusp of awakening. Yet, the eyes remained closed. Gradually, the infant settled back into its slumber. From across the cosmos, infinite streams of spiritual energy converged upon the star, becoming sustenance for its growth. Before the sleeping babe, a jade slip manifested from divine sense. It was neither wholly real nor entirely phantom but hung in the liminal space between. It awaited the day the infant awoke, the day its secrets would be revealed.

The cultivation star where the infant lay was unremarkable. Yet, viewed from afar, it bore a striking resemblance to a colossal eye. The mountain ranges crisscrossed its surface like veins, a network of crimson upon the white of the sclera. The vast oceans formed the iris, their depths reflecting the eternal mysteries of the heavens. And within the iris, the continents stood as the dark pupil, absorbing the light of the cosmos.

Wang Lin had walked this path before. He had beheld Tosen, now an infant, and the star he had chosen as his slumbering cradle.

The Realm of the Caves, in the wake of Wang Lin’s departure, embraced a profound tranquility, as if recovering from a perilous wound. A force subtle and all-encompassing, unnoticed by nearly all, surged through its lands, a gift unleashed as Wang Lin stepped beyond its bounds. This force would protect the realm for generations to come, ensuring that the shadow of such as the Crimson Soul Child would never again darken its lands.

Far away, upon the Immortal-Astral Continent, in the Xian Clan lands of the Eastern Continent, within the Sky Bull Continent, a mountain shrouded in perpetual mist erupted with power. Countless shards of crystalline light soared into the heavens, spreading across the eight directions. As the light faded, within the ancient mountain gate of the Seven Dao Sect, beside the entrance to the Realm of the Caves, Wang Lin emerged. Dressed
Dressed in white, his hair the color of snow, he walked slowly into the Immortal-Astral Continent. Three hundred years had passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. Wang Lin paused, gazing at the skies of the Immortal-Astral Continent, before walking forward. “Seven Paths Sect…” Wang Lin murmured, his voice echoing softly. Before departing, he raised his right hand and, with a sweeping gesture of his sleeve, unleashed a gale of immense power. It engulfed the ruins of the once-corrupted Sect of Transformation, and where desolation had reigned, a magnificent and venerable domain now arose. “Let this be home,” Wang Lin whispered, “for all who have journeyed from the Realm of the Caves.” With a final surge of power, he reached toward the heavens, and nearly twenty orbs of light erupted forth, each a comet of hope soaring into the vast expanse. They scattered, swift as thought, towards the distant corners of the land, vanishing in an instant.

These radiant beacons found their way to many places across the lands of the Immortals. Qing Shui, traversing a desolate desert, sensed their approach. He looked up as one such orb descended like a blessing, merging into his very being. A tremor ran through him, and when he opened his eyes, a gentle smile graced his lips. Red Robe, a crimson warrior, sped through the sky, his quarry a wizened elder clutching a flickering sword, desperation etched on his aged face. Red Robe pressed his relentless pursuit, his countenance grim. But then, a light appeared, a celestial gift, sinking into his brow. His eyes narrowed as he cast a glance towards the Azure Ox Continent. His grim visage softened with a touch of melancholy, yet his pursuit grew even more resolute.

Qing Shuang, Zhou Ru, Red Butterfly, Zhou Yi, and nearly every soul reincarnated from the Realm of Caves, felt the touch of these celestial messengers. They sensed the presence of the Seven Paths Sect, and even those whose earthly lives held no memory would find it stirred in their souls, awaiting its destined awakening.

With one last look upon the Seven Paths Sect, Wang Lin passed through its gates. He had woven a grand enchantment around it, a protective barrier akin to the celestial arrays of the Realm of Caves. Whether he returned from the depths of the Ancient God’s Domain or not, the Sect’s safety, the realm’s tranquility, would be assured. His task complete, Wang Lin did not turn back. He stepped towards the heavens, his form growing ethereal, until he vanished altogether.

“Three centuries have passed, longer than many mortal lives, yet a breath to cultivators…” Wang Lin mused, “Madman has become the Immortal Emperor, Ji Gang the Primordial Emperor… I wonder what fate has wrought for them.”

“And…” he whispered, his voice laced with sorrow, “Where is Li Qianmei?” He could sense her presence, knew that, like Qing Shui, her memories had returned. He understood, too, why she remained hidden. “Silently blessing me, perhaps…” Wang Lin lifted his gaze to the distant sky, lost in contemplation. He would always remember her words, the tale of the bird and the fish.

“Xu Jian,” he sighed, closing his eyes. With each step, he turned towards the land of the Ancients. “I vowed to Gu Dao that I would enter the Ancient God’s Domain from the territory of the Ancients.” Wang Lin remembered his promise.

Days passed as he crossed the Immortal lands, until he stood at the edge of the vast basin, once the sea, now a gateway. Towards its heart, the swirling vortex of the ocean wall beckoned. Even from afar, the roar of the tempest assaulted his ears, as if stirring the very heavens. The endless wall of water, more turbulent than he remembered, surged and writhed. The nine colossal pillars pierced the raging sea, their emanations of nine colors bathing the vortex in an ethereal glow. This dreamlike radiance, steeped in mystery, could ensnare the mind, drawing one into a captivating trance. Coupled with the countless legends of the Ancient God’s Domain that echoed across the Immortal lands, it fueled a desperate yearning for power.

Wang Lin stood at the edge of the vortex, and without hesitation, plunged through the chaotic waters. He emerged in the realm of the Ancients, where he sat in silent meditation, awaiting the appointed time. As the moment drew near, both the Ancient and Immortal realms, long preparing for war, stirred like slumbering beasts, poised to unleash their full, terrible might.