Wang Lin offered a wry smile. “The Nascent Soul Transformation… it is but a distant echo to this humble initiate.”

From within the depths of the Tianni Bead, a voice boomed, laced with both annoyance and a hint of desperation. “By the Nine Heavens, I, Situ Nan, a peerless master of a Rank Six Cultivation Kingdom, am here to guide you! Nascent Soul Transformation? A sparrow’s fart! Though I am bound here, within this accursed trinket, with every breath you drew in meditation these past decades, I subtly infused your Nascent Soul essence with mine, strengthening your foundations. Were it not for me, your paltry talents would never have reached such a meager height, even after thrice ten years!”

“Moreover, with my essence clinging to your very core, none save a master of equal standing could pierce the veil of your cultivation. And you possess the Tianni Bead! What, pray tell, do you fear? I, Situ Nan, risked everything to seize this enigmatic treasure that materialized within the Cultivation Alliance. My mortal vessel was shattered, my soul nearly extinguished, forcing me to take refuge within this damnable orb. I sought a body to inhabit, a new life to claim, but this Tianni Bead… it holds me captive!”

“Hear me, junior, and know I speak the truth. When first you stumbled into its embrace, I harbored intentions of claiming your flesh, but found it impossible. The Tianni Bead is a gilded cage, its bars forged of fate, preventing my escape.”

“I have delved into its mysteries for countless moons and have gleaned understanding. The bead craves recognition, a bonding to unlock its true potential. Only then can it be shed. I was hounded from its acquisition, robbed of the time to unravel its secrets. This artifact hungers for the five elements – gold, wood, water, fire, and earth – to awaken. Even then, only when you achieve Nascent Soul Transformation can I hope to be released. So, I implore you, boy, lend me your aid. Cultivate with haste! Aid me in finding a suitable vessel, a host for I, Situ Nan, to inhabit. I swear upon my immortal soul, I shall forever remember your generosity. I shall become your shield, your protector, granting you endless riches and the finest vintages the realms have to offer!”

The haughtiness of Situ Nan’s tone faded, replaced by a lament, a weariness etched upon the disembodied voice.

Wang Lin pondered the spirit’s words. He trusted little of what had been uttered, yet the outline of the world of cultivation, the hierarchy of power, rang true. Surely, such knowledge was beyond deception.

Just as he was about to speak, Situ Nan’s voice erupted once more, urgency lacing every syllable.

“Boy! Strangers approach! I shall cast you forth!”

A sensation of rending enveloped him, the world blurred, and with a gasp, Wang Lin found himself returned to reality.

His spiritual sense swept the area, revealing two inner disciples, a man and a woman, creeping toward him. They halted some thirty paces distant, their whispers turning into murmurs, then into stolen kisses and whispered vows of love. They were figures familiar to Wang Lin, participants in the same training camp. Curiosity piqued, he lingered for a time, his gaze lingering a moment too long upon the female disciple before reluctantly departing.

Returning to his meager dwelling, Wang Lin wrestled with the pronouncements made by Situ Nan within the Dream Space. The words, though perhaps tainted with self-interest, had opened his eyes to the vastness of the cultivation world.

Three days hence, the exchange between the Hengyue Sect and the Xuandao Sect commenced.

This exchange, a tradition of long standing between the two factions, was conducted without excessive pomp. The chosen ground was Cangsong Peak, a secondary peak of the towering Hengyue Mountain.

An arched stone bridge spanned the chasm between the peaks. Wang Lin had glimpsed Cangsong Peak before, yet it was always shrouded in swirling clouds, its true form obscured.

Cangsong Peak was a place of importance to the Hengyue Sect, its spiritual energies far stronger than those of the back mountain. It was a place of seclusion for two masters of the Core Formation stage.

At the summit of Cangsong Peak, a grand stone staircase had been erected specifically for these exchanges. Eight colossal pillars of white jade stood sentinel, each carved with the glorious history of the Hengyue School, tracing back five hundred years.

As one drew near, a palpable aura emanated from the jade, coalescing into a fearsome, murderous intent, a biting chill that threatened to ensnare the very soul.

“Fellow Daoist Huanglong,” Old Master Ouyang murmured, his voice tinged with awe, “each time I behold these eight jade pillars, I am struck anew. Truly, they are treasures worthy of the Zhao State!” With a flick of his sleeve, he banished the oppressive aura.

Behind him, the disciples of the Xuandao Sect gasped, their faces etched with shock. For a fleeting moment, the presence of the jade had transported them to a battlefield, the slaughter visceral, the fear crippling. Only with Old Ouyang’s intervention did the sensation recede.

“Fellow Daoist Ouyang,” Huanglong Zhenren replied, his countenance serene, “these pillars were crafted by the founders of my Hengyue Sect. Any disciple who ventures within a hundred paces is assailed by the murderous intent. You are, of course, familiar with this precaution. Forgive my bluntness.” His hands wove through a silent mantra, and from the jade pillars, a soft, radiant light spilled forth. The mists that clung to Cangsong Peak parted as if pushed aside by colossal hands, revealing the peak in its entirety. The murderous intent dissolved.

Behind Huanglong, the inner disciples of the Hengyue Sect flexed their fists, their faces a mask of anticipation.

“Very well,” Old Master Ouyang declared. “Let us adhere to the old ways. In this first contest, the Xuandao Sect shall take the initiative. Liu Feng, step forward!”

Liu Feng, blessed with a singular affinity for water, stepped forward with a smile. With a breath, he moved like lightning to the platform’s center and spoke in a voice of unwavering confidence. “Liu Feng of the Xuandao Sect seeks guidance from the disciples of the Hengyue Sect!”

Wang Lin followed Sun Dazhu, a golden flying sword strapped to his back, resplendent in the crimson robes of a disciple.

Sun Dazhu seemed pleased with his apprentice’s attire. Since Wang Lin had reached the third level of Qi Condensation, Sun Dazhu’s distaste had lessened, replaced by a grudging acknowledgement. He was still far from affectionate, but Wang Lin was treated with a modicum of respect, if only as a potential stepping stone.

Of course, this tentative approval hinged solely on Wang Lin’s continued progress. Should he stagnate at the third level for another decade, Sun Dazhu’s disgust would surely return.

These past three days, Wang Lin had remained largely confined, spending his time within his dreams, conversing with the entity known as Situ Nan.

Through these dialogues, he had gleaned some understanding of Situ Nan’s true nature. He had been the strongest of the Zhuque Kingdom, a Level Six dominion. His cultivation was beyond comprehension, his methods brutal. He was a rogue, a ruthless figure who would kill and steal without hesitation, arrogant and domineering to the very core.

At the platform, a hush fell upon the assembly as Liu Feng stood ready. Headmaster Huanglong gazed upon the disciple and gave his orders. “Zhao Long, go!”

Zhao Long, an inner disciple known for his taciturn demeanor, was one of the few who had reached the sixth level of Qi Condensation during their training.

To send forth a disciple of the sixth level in the first competition was a rare event in the history of the exchange.

Old Ouyang, unfazed, merely chuckled. “Liu Feng, I grant you leave to utilize fifty percent of your true power in this first bout!”

His words sent ripples of unease through the ranks of the Hengyue Sect.