Lord Ling Tianhou, Sword Paragon, his gaze a flash of celestial fire, extended his right hand toward the distant, shimmering edge of the East Sea. As his fingers parted the air, four spectral blades erupted from his back, howling with arcane energy. They became streaks of incandescent light, piercing the veil that separated realms.

A thunderous roar echoed across the heavens, multiplied fourfold. Above the Gate of the East Sea’s Demonic Spirits, amidst a chaotic expanse of floating debris, the sword-forms spun with furious speed, coalescing into four points of unimaginable power. They tore through the ethereal detritus, creating a jagged, raw wound in the fabric of reality, a gateway to the unknown!

A symphony of azure and crimson pulsed within the newly formed aperture, accompanied by mournful wails that resonated with the agony of lost souls and forgotten spirits. The void itself seemed to recoil, revealing glimpses of a hidden dimension lurking beyond the Gate.

“The Gate of the East Sea Demonic Spirits is opened!” Lord Ling Tianhou’s words were few but resonant, laced with the chill of impending battle. “Enter now, without hesitation!”

At his command, the Twelve Swords of Shaoxiao, his disciples most fierce, flew forth as twelve bolts of argent energy, each a testament to their master’s mastery. They plunged headlong into the newly-torn gate.

As the last of the twelve crossed the threshold, Ling Tianhou’s eyes narrowed. He flicked his wrist, sending a single lance of pure sword-energy spiraling towards the final disciple’s outstretched hand.

“Bear this blade-essence,” he proclaimed, his voice echoing with power, “as your shield and salvation within that perilous realm!” The last disciple, bowing in reverence, accepted the gift and stepped into the Gate.

Unseen, Greed Wolf, an entity of immense power, had already dissolved his form into the very essence of that final blade-essence, following the Twelve Swords of Shaoxiao into the maw of the Demonic Gate.

Tian Yunzi, Lord of the Celestial Fortune Sect, watched with serene composure, a hint of knowing in his eyes. “Disciples of Tian Yun,” he announced, “enter now.”

Ten voices, including that of Wang Lin, responded in unison. They launched themselves toward the Gate. Wang Lin, however, moved with calculated slowness, allowing his companions to precede him before stepping into the swirling vortex.

Once the disciples of the Great Luo Sword Sect and the Celestial Fortune Sect had vanished, the remaining cultivators, leaders and prodigies of various sects, followed in a torrent of vibrant light, each eager to test their mettle within the perilous realm.

Yao Xixue, upon her blood-red jade throne, gnawed her lip in determination. With a final resolve, she transformed into a crimson streak and plunged into the waiting darkness.

For half an hour, the Gate remained open, accepting scores of adventurers, including disciples of renowned and ancient masters. Finally, Lord Ling Tianhou raised his hand. The four spinning blades that maintained the rift shuddered and stilled, instantly transforming back into shafts of light. They returned to Ling Tianhou, re-forming into the four spectral blades that adorned his back.

As the spectral blades faded, the gash in reality began to heal. Azure and crimson energies surged forth, mending the tear until the Gate was once again sealed, as if it had never existed.

The surrounding cultivators began to disperse. Only a handful of ancient and powerful beings, their cultivation reaching the heights of godhood, lingered, their gazes fixed upon the place where the Gate had been. They shared a silent understanding, drawn together by a long-held secret and something more, a wisp of red energy left behind from the opening.

This concerned a grand mystery involving Tian Yun Star itself. A tense silence hung in the air, broken only when Lord Ling Tianhou pierced the quiet with a resonant shout, addressing the distant figure of Tian Yunzi. “Tian Yun! That residue…it was a token!”

Tian Yunzi, his expression unreadable, acknowledged the accusation with a gentle smile. “Indeed. The third fragment. Never did I expect the Demonic Gate of the East Sea to reveal it. As it has been drawn into that realm, there is nothing to be done for now. The Gate opens but once every two hundred years. We shall reconvene here when the time is due. Previous attempts have shown us that our preparation was inadequate. Let these two centuries be dedicated to perfecting what is needed.”

With a final bow to those assembled, Tian Yunzi flicked his sleeves and vanished in a ripple of displaced reality.

Lord Ling Tianhou scoffed, casting a final, piercing gaze upon the East Sea’s Demonic Gate. Turning, he transformed into a streak of pure sword-light and disappeared.

With the departure of these two powerful figures, the remaining ancient cultivators began to depart. All of them shared the same thought, as the quest for the lost fragments to a key to godhood had just began again.

Silence returned to the East Sea. Across the expanse of floating debris, countless fragments shifted and stirred, emitting an eerie, otherworldly aura. Azure and crimson lights flickered within, hinting at the secrets and dangers that lurked beneath the surface.

Lord Ling Tianhou, a streak of pure sword-light, tore through the heavens, heading towards the Great Luo Sword Sect. His sect was not located on Tian Yun Star, nor on any of its five lesser satellites, but on a colossal world, wrested from the depths of the cosmos by his own hand.

Though not as grand as Tian Yun Star, it dwarfed the five satellites, its surface teeming with vital energy, perfectly suited for cultivating the arts of swordsmanship.

This was Great Luo Star, built by Lord Ling Tianhou to be the home of his disciples!

Ling Tianhou ripped through the planet’s outer defenses, descending into the Great Luo Star’s eastern reaches, to his place of secluded meditation.

“Two hundred years,” he muttered, his eyes burning with determination, “I will finally master that ancient sword. With the power of the Ninefold Demonic Union, I will forge it into a blade of pure demonic power. When the time comes, I will claim the token, and ensure the rise of my disciples” In a flash, Lord Ling Tianhou vanished into his chamber, his will unshakeable, his ambition unbounded.
High above, upon the celestial sphere of Tianyun, the venerable Tian Yunzi returned to his star-kingdom. With haste, he entered the tri-colored mountain range, making his way to the seven-hued pagoda nestled within the Howling Wolf Clan’s territory. Inside, he settled into a meditative pose, several ebony beast bones laid out beside him.

These bones, polished to a dark sheen, emanated an unsettling aura. “My disciple, Wang Lin,” Tian Yunzi mused, his voice a tranquil whisper, “is indeed blessed by fortune. But I wonder, how much of that fortune remains?” With a gesture, he summoned the bones into the air, only to cast them down once more, scattering them upon the floor.

Tian Yunzi’s gaze sharpened as he studied the scattered bones. A smile, subtle yet knowing, touched his lips.

Meanwhile, within the Abyssal Gate of the Eastern Sea, chaos reigned, a realm unto itself. Few could fathom its vastness, and Wang Lin was not among them. Upon passing through the gate, he felt as if he had plunged into a bottomless ocean, only to emerge into a colossal, desolate wasteland.

Here, there was sky, earth, and even oceans, yet this was no ordinary cultivation star. Wang Lin found himself utterly alone in this wilderness. The other nine disciples of the Tianyun Sect, scattered by a strange force the moment they entered, were nowhere to be seen.

“This Abyssal Gate,” Wang Lin observed, his eyes gleaming with intrigue, “is unlike any place I have ventured before. It is more akin to a mortal world, not the treasure-laden proving grounds I expected.” He extended his divine sense, then soared into the sky, gliding through the air.

“The entrants from other sects must be experiencing a similar fate, forcibly separated and left to navigate this Eastern Sea trial on their own,” he mused. “Sun Yunshan said the trial lasts five centuries. Five hundred years I must remain here…” His thoughts swirled as he flew.

“Five centuries are generations for mortals, but a mere blink for cultivators. Yet, in those five centuries, I have much to accomplish. The Slaughter Celestial Art must be mastered! That is paramount! And even if Tuosen escapes his prison on Vermilion Bird Star, he would never suspect I would be here. Thus, I gain five hundred years to prepare!” A confident smile played on his lips.

The moment he learned from Sun Yushan that the Abyssal Gate’s trial lasted five centuries, Wang Lin’s heart had been set. He had to enter.

His greatest dread lay with Tuosen, the Ancient God. Should Tuosen break free, Wang Lin knew he would be the first target. And with his current cultivation, confronting Tuosen was an impossible feat.

This was why Wang Lin so desperately sought to master the Slaughter Celestial Art and refine the Brand of Life. He knew he could not defeat Tuosen, so he needed a means to survive.

Mastering the Slaughter Celestial Art and accumulating a multitude of Brands of Life was his only hope to withstand Tuosen’s might.

“Five centuries,” he pondered, his eyes glowing with determination, “to what heights can I ascend?”

“Then there is the matter of Senior Zhou Yi,” he continued, “another reason for my entering this realm. With the presence of Senior Zhou Yi’s essence within the pagoda, finding Sword Saint Ling Tianhou’s seal should not be too difficult. If I can free Senior Zhou Yi, his power, combined with the Celestial Sword, would grant me immense strength in a short span of time!”

“Furthermore,” his brow furrowed in thought, “the great sword I saw outside the Abyssal Gate… it bore an uncanny resemblance to Jufu of old.”

“Jufu housed the Sword Soul technique. If it is truly Jufu, then upon finding it and learning the Sword Soul, the power of the Celestial Sword would multiply several times over.”