“Venerable Zhou Yi!” Wang Lin breathed, his voice hushed with reverence.

He could sense it, the deathly pall clinging to Zhou Yi. It was not merely the product of external forces, but a deeper malaise, a yearning for oblivion that resided within the man’s very soul. He had embraced death itself.

Before him lay a fell array, its arcane patterns betraying a power that surpassed his own meager capabilities. To unravel such a weaving, Wang Lin knew, lay beyond his reach. Perhaps, only Zhou Yi himself possessed the key to its undoing.

Though Wang Lin’s voice was but a whisper, it echoed within the cavernous depths. Zhou Yi’s eyelids fluttered, then slowly peeled back, revealing eyes hollow and empty. Yet within that emptiness, a profound sorrow lurked, a grief that spoke of unimaginable loss. His face remained a mask of utter bewilderment.

At that moment, from behind Wang Lin, the divine will of Ling Tianhou, freed from its prison of golden light, surged forth. It coalesced once more into a blade of pure energy, aimed with deadly precision at Wang Lin.

A soft sigh, heavy with regret, resonated through the chasm. It emanated from Zhou Yi, and as its echoes spread, the sword-like will of Ling Tianhou shattered into fragments!

The dissipated energy coalesced into a luminous orb, hovering silently above the fourth sword piercing the earth, unmoving and ominous.

“Go,” Zhou Yi uttered, his gaze never meeting Wang Lin’s. He closed his eyes once more, retreating into the shadows of his own despair.

Wang Lin had traveled far, his vital essence depleted, his very soul wounded and frail. Even the act of separating his spirit from his body was now beyond him. His nascent soul, once a beacon of light, was now shrunken, clouded, barely a shadow of its former self.

He had expended all his powers, emptied his arsenal of skills, all to reach this desolate place, drawn by a debt owed to Zhou Yi. And for his sacrifice, he received only these three simple, dismissive words.

“Go.”

A bitter smile twisted Wang Lin’s lips, a self-deprecating grimace born of disappointment.

“Your heart is dead. I should never have come.” Wang Lin shook his head, turning towards the exit. Zhou Yi’s debt, incurred long ago, was now repaid, extinguished the moment he stepped into this cursed rift, the moment his six nascent souls crumbled.

“Dead, is it? Yes… when Ting’er departed, my heart truly died.” The bewilderment on Zhou Yi’s face deepened, the sorrow in his eyes intensified.

He had been imprisoned here by Ling Tianhou for centuries, adrift in a fog of apathy. He was aware of the encroachment of the Ancient Demon’s soul fragment, but he lacked the will to resist. Only a single point of golden light remained, a stubborn ember of devotion to Ting’er, which he refused to extinguish.

With a sigh, Zhou Yi raised his right hand, now tinged with an unnatural purple hue, and flicked his fingers. A barrier of golden light sprang into existence, imbued with an essence of sword energy so potent that even Ling Tianhou in his prime had been hard-pressed to withstand it. This was the life-essence of the Rain Immortal Sword, the very heart of its being! Of these vital strands of power, Zhou Yi possessed but ninety-nine.

In his pursuit of Ling Tianhou years ago, he had expended the greater part of them. Now, only four remained within his withered frame!

The surge of energy shot towards the glowing orb hovering above the fourth sword and pierced it cleanly.

Ling Tianhou’s divine will, though formidable, was no match for the Rain Immortal Sword’s life-essence.

The orb shattered, and Ling Tianhou’s essence within was torn asunder by the surging power, dissolving into a myriad of glittering motes. These ephemeral fragments, like a miniature galaxy, flowed towards Wang Lin and were absorbed into his body.

Within Wang Lin, his injured nascent soul drank deeply of the sparkling light. Its wounds began to heal at an astonishing pace.

In an instant, the soul was not only fully restored, but surged with excess energy, a feeling of expansion that slowly subsided. Some of the glittering light remained, seeking out the lingering traces of Ling Tianhou’s sword energy within Wang Lin’s nascent soul and merging with it.

In the blink of an eye, that sword energy became three times as sharp and deadly as before!

“My life-essence cannot reside within you. I cannot grant you strength. You were injured because of me; I have helped you recover. Now, go. And do not return.” Zhou Yi’s voice was slow, deliberate.

Wang Lin sighed inwardly. Turning toward the exit, he reached into his storage bag. The pagoda containing Zhou Yi’s spiritual essence materialized in his hand. He glanced at it, then tossed it back towards Zhou Yi.

“The promise of the past is fulfilled. Wang Lin has completed his duty. This pagoda will no longer stand guard!” Zhou Yi’s eyes snapped open, his gaze fixed upon the ancient structure. Grief, immense and suffocating, filled his face.

“Ting’er…”

Wang Lin paused, but did not turn back. “Her name is not Ting’er. If I am not mistaken, her name is Qing Shuang!”

Zhou Yi’s spirit recoiled. He lifted his head, the emptiness in his eyes replaced by a spark of sharp awareness.

“Qing Shuang?”

Wang Lin turned to face Zhou Yi, offering no further words, but instead tossed him Qing Shuang’s jade scroll.

Zhou Yi’s eyes narrowed as he caught the scroll. He focused his spirit upon it, and his expression shifted. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice laced with bitterness, “Qing Shuang…”

“Daughter of Immortal Emperor Qing Shuang, the most powerful being in the Immortal Realm. It is rumored that when the Immortal Realm shattered, she escaped and hid in a hidden cave within this Demon Spirit Land to heal her wounds!” Wang Lin said, his voice calm and measured.

The sharp glint in Zhou Yi’s eyes intensified. A flicker of life, long dormant, began to stir within him. The purple aura surrounding him swirled faster, struggling to contain the burgeoning vitality, but unable to stifle it entirely.

“Are you saying… that Ting’er’s father is healing within a hidden cave nearby? Wang Lin, can you be sure of this?”

Wang Lin shook his head. “I have not seen it with my own eyes. I cannot be certain.”

The bewilderment on Zhou Yi’s face began to fade. He murmured to himself, “Certainty… this was never a matter of certainty. But if Ting’er’s father is truly here, then his power… Surely, he can awaken Ting’er.”

Zhou Yi seemed to have forgotten that the Ting’er he spoke of was nothing more than a strand of residual consciousness residing within a white-robed corpse, born from his thousand years of unwavering devotion. That fragment of a soul had already dissipated, gone forever…

“I must bring Ting’er to her father! I must let her awaken…” The life force within Zhou Yi grew stronger, the purple energy surrounding him intensifying. It surged towards the point of golden light on his brow, assaulting it like a raging storm.

“Begone!” Zhou Yi’s eyes flashed. The purple energy, as if possessed, struggled to resist, but it was futile. It was forced from Zhou Yi’s body in a furious torrent, dissipating into the depths of the cavern, banished through the array.
As the Sword-Spirit of the Rain Immortal Sword, Zhou Yi, now diminished to but three strands of his essential Sword Qi, might have faltered had the ancient fiend from the Water-Demon March come forth in person.

Yet, to merely dispel its lingering demonic miasma? That was a task well within his grasp.

The violet haze dissipated, revealing Zhou Yi, his form now crystalline, shimmering like flowing water. He cast a deep, knowing gaze upon the pagoda, then beckoned with his right hand. Instantly, a beam of sword-light shot forth from within the pagoda’s depths.

The sword was petite, clearly crafted for a female hand. It was one of the Rain Immortal Swords themselves!

Zhou Yi, the Sword-Spirit, shimmered, transforming into a mote of pure light and merging with the slender blade. A torrent of Sword Qi erupted within the fissure.

At that moment, the three spheres of Divine Sense, once hovering above the eastern, southern, western, and northern points of the ground formation, hurtled towards the sword, seeking to engulf Zhou Yi.

A chilling snort echoed from within the blade. Zhou Yi’s essential Sword Qi lashed out, a cataclysmic roar shaking the very foundations of the Tidespout Abyss. The piercing Sword Qi threatened to cleave the abyss asunder.

The three spheres crumbled instantly, devoured by Zhou Yi, who manifested momentarily from within the Immortal Sword. The spectral projections of the four Yuan-Spirit Swords upon the ground disintegrated under the onslaught of his essential Sword Qi, and the formation itself shattered.

The fissure that had imprisoned Zhou Yi collapsed in an instant!

“Ling Tianhou,” Zhou Yi’s voice boomed, resonating with ancient power, “Centuries have passed, and though I was sealed, had my spirit not wavered, your paltry bindings could never have held me! I am the Sword-Spirit of the Rain Immortal Sword, as old as the heavens themselves, a vessel of the Four Great Ancient Sword Intents! I may not be able to slay you, but neither shall you imprison me against my will!”

“These past centuries, though despair clouded my heart, I could still feel the pulse of the Ancient Sword Intents coursing through me. Should our paths cross again, let us see if Zhou Yi’s cultivation remains as it was!” With those words, Zhou Yi, one with the Immortal Sword, soared from the collapsing fissure.

Wang Lin followed close behind, sword and man emerging beyond the confines of the rift.

Zhou Yi materialized from the Immortal Sword, retaining his former attire, though now etched with the weariness of ages. In his hand, he held the pagoda. He gazed upon it with a profound look, then offered it to Wang Lin.

“Wang Lin, keep it safe for me!”

Wang Lin nodded, accepting the pagoda and storing it within his dimensional pouch.

Zhou Yi’s gaze settled upon Wang Lin, a flicker of approval lighting his eyes. “In these few centuries, you have come so far. It is commendable!”

Wang Lin sighed softly. “I owe you gratitude for the Ascendant Crystal back then, or else…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“The Ascendant Crystal was payment for your guardianship of Ting’er. No thanks are needed. If anything, I should thank you. To think, after all these centuries, our paths would intertwine again. Were it not for your determined search, this day would never have come.” Zhou Yi raised a hand to silence Wang Lin’s attempt to speak. He paused, then said, “Wang Lin, I recall there being two other Immortal Swords within the pagoda. Do you still possess one of them?”

Wang Lin reached into his dimensional pouch, and the Immortal Sword that housed Xu Liguo flew forth.

Within the sword, Xu Liguo sensed Zhou Yi’s presence. As a spirit himself, the connection was profound. Zhou Yi radiated an aura of authority, as though he were the master of all Sword-Spirits, filling Xu Liguo with a deep sense of awe. He even felt a chilling realization that Zhou Yi was the true Sword-Spirit of the blade he inhabited. He was but a cuckoo in the nest.

“Hm?” Zhou Yi’s eyes gleamed as he focused on the sword. He pointed a finger, and Xu Liguo was ejected from the blade, a fawning expression plastered on his face, even more pronounced than when he faced Wang Lin.

“Senior, I am Xu Liguo! My master placed me within this sword, I swear it was not my doing!”

Wang Lin’s expression darkened, and he shot a cold glare at Xu Liguo.

Zhou Yi laughed heartily. “Wang Lin, my abilities cannot be imparted to you, but this spirit is promising. I can imbue him with my understanding of the Ancient Sword Intents, nurturing his growth until he can fully control your Immortal Sword!”