A faint smile graced Wang Lin’s lips as he cupped his fist in salute towards the ethereal form of Zhou Yi. “Senior Zhou, this junior has a humble request.”

Zhou Yi fixed his gaze upon Wang Lin, his voice a calm ripple in the mist. “Speak.”

A spark of shrewdness flickered in Wang Lin’s eyes. “Senior, I beseech you to unleash your sword sense, but with a delicate touch, a whisper hidden within this fog. I intend to venture forth and parley with those wolves of the Greedy Wolf constellation.”

“You would go alone?” Zhou Yi’s brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded. Wang Lin’s words now carried a weight vastly different from before. “Tread cautiously.”

Wang Lin offered a slight smile. “Fear not, Senior. That Greedy Wolf only offered a verbal halt, without pursuing or attacking. It suggests either a certain apprehension or a deeply ingrained suspicion within that man.”

Zhou Yi sighed softly, admiration shining brightly in his eyes. “To glean such insight from mere fragments! This Wang Lin is no ordinary cultivator.”

Wang Lin paused, a moment of contemplation etching itself upon his face. “Senior, I harbor a conjecture. The goal of Greedy Wolf, I suspect, revolves around a token, the sole key to finding the father of Senior Qing Shuang. Therefore, I implore you, hold nothing back!”

A chilling glint flashed within Zhou Yi’s gaze. “Wang Lin, rest assured. I shall not falter.”

Without another word, Wang Lin returned the salute, turned, and stepped into the swirling mists, heading towards the gathering of the Greedy Wolf constellation.

In truth, remaining hidden within the fog, constantly observing with Zhou Yi’s sword sense, would have been a sound strategy. However, having already been discovered, lurking in the shadows would prove less advantageous than a direct, open inspection.

More importantly, Wang Lin desired to discern if Greedy Wolf recognized him. He was certain he had never met the man before.

Within the swirling embrace of the fog, Wang Lin expanded his divine sense, moving forward. Ten leagues were a mere breath to him, and despite the obscuring mists, it was but a short while before he stepped into the open space.

The moment he emerged, six pairs of eyes snapped towards him.

“It’s Wang Lin!” One of the five cultivators of the Great Luo Sword Sect recognized him instantly.

An aura of murderous intent emanated from the disciples. The Great Luo Sword Sect and the Heavenly Fate Sect were bitter rivals. No reason was needed to spark a bloody conflict.

Wang Lin’s gaze remained calm, sweeping over the group. He spared only a glance for Greedy Wolf, showing no particular interest.

Greedy Wolf showed no reaction, merely opening his eyes to acknowledge Wang Lin’s arrival before closing them once more.

“I am Chen Long. Are you Wang Lin, the purple-robed disciple of the Heavenly Fate Sect?” A deep, resonant voice echoed from Chen Long.

Wang Lin’s expression remained unchanged as he faced Chen Long, offering no reply. He was waiting, observing whether these Great Luo Sword Sect members were here by their own volition or held captive. The answer would confirm or dispel his prior assumptions.

“Insolent fool! My elder brother addresses you, and you dare remain silent?” A Great Luo Sword Sect disciple, perhaps driven mad by centuries of confinement, seized this opportunity to erupt. He stepped forward, his treasured sword flying from its sheath. With a slash, the sword aura manifested as a jet-black steed, its eyes glowing with baleful red light.

A noxious, corrupting aura emanated from the horse, fusing with the sword, transforming into a sword energy aimed directly at Wang Lin.

The man’s cultivation was only at the late-stage Nascent Soul realm, but surrounded by his fellow disciples and with his elder brother present, he felt no fear of reprisal.

“Is this your manner of greeting guests?” Wang Lin didn’t even glance at the incoming strike, his tranquil gaze fixed upon Chen Long. He had concluded that these Great Luo Sword Sect cultivators were being held captive. Otherwise, they would not have been so easily agitated.

A glint of intelligence flashed in Chen Long’s eyes as he opened his mouth to speak, but at that very moment, Wang Lin moved.

The Brand of Life blazed forth from between his brows, expanding outwards to form a shimmering curtain of vitality, which met the corrupted sword energy head-on.

With a deafening roar, Wang Lin’s eyes shone with icy resolve. A portion of the Brand of Life transformed in mid-air, morphing into a wave of brutal, all-consuming killing intent, instantly enveloping the black horse.

The other Great Luo Sword Sect disciples rushed forward, ready to intervene, but Chen Long roared, “Stand back!”

With a single stride, Chen Long thrust his fingers forward like a sword, targeting the heart of the killing aura surrounding the black horse. His fingers were imbued with a peculiar power. He kicked the black horse, sending it flying away.

Turning, Chen Long ignored the swirling killing intent and cupped his fist in salute to Wang Lin. “Fellow Daoist Wang, my junior brother acted rashly. Forgive his impudence.”

“It is of no consequence,” Wang Lin replied coolly. The killing intent that surrounded Chen Long instantly shifted, ensnaring the black horse’s sword instead. With a sweeping motion, it deposited the blade beside Wang Lin.

Before the very eyes of Chen Long and the other Great Luo Sword Sect disciples, Wang Lin grasped the black horse’s sword, obliterating the embedded divine sense with a single touch, before casually tossing it into his storage bag.

The black horse, having been kicked away by Chen Long, his sword stolen, and his connection to the blade severed, coughed up a mouthful of blood, glaring at Wang Lin and shouting. “You!!”

“Since he is Fellow Daoist Chen Long’s junior brother, I shall spare him death for his transgression. I shall keep this sword as a small token!” Wang Lin stated calmly, his expression unchanged.

Chen Long’s expression remained placid, a slight smile gracing his lips. “As it should be!” He turned a frigid glare towards the black horse. “Silence! How dare you offend Fellow Daoist Wang! If you continue to prattle, I will strip away your cultivation on behalf of our master!”

The black horse visibly flinched at Chen Long’s words, muttering a few sounds before settling down, sullen and silent.

Wang Lin’s pupils constricted almost imperceptibly. He had deliberately provoked the Great Luo Sword Sect members to gauge their inner thoughts, and then openly stolen the black horse’s sword. And yet, this Chen Long had endured it all, his composure unwavering.
The subtle machinations of the Serpent of the Stars, Chenlong, served to illuminate a truth: Wang Lin held something they desperately sought!

At that very moment, the star wolf, Tanlang, opened his eyes, casting a baleful glance at Wang Lin. “Little whelp,” he rasped, “why does your friend linger in the shadows?”

Inwardly, Tanlang cursed. Had he not sensed the veiled power lurking within the mist, a hidden consciousness that pulsed with untold strength, he would have seized Wang Lin the instant he appeared.

During those fleeting moments of feigned meditation, Tanlang had thrice attempted to unleash his arcane abilities, but each time, the lurking presence in the mist had responded with a chilling, unseen force, a silent warning that stayed his hand.

Wang Lin, betraying no sign of his inner turmoil, replied calmly, “My companion is of a solitary nature and shuns company. Might I inquire, venerable elder, are you also of the Heavenly Net Sword Sect?”

Tanlang’s lips curled into a sneer.

Chenlong chuckled, stepping forward. “Esteemed Wang, allow me to introduce Venerable Tanlang, a figure of great renown, a contemporary of our esteemed master. Alas, a grievous wound has curtailed his powers, limiting his cultivation to the late stage of the Ascendant Realm. Were it not for this misfortune, we would not be languishing here, imprisoned for a century!”

“This Chenlong is no simpleton,” Wang Lin mused inwardly. With but a few words, the man had subtly revealed their plight and laid bare their dependence on him.

“Venerable Tanlang,” Chenlong continued, his voice laced with urgency, “now that Fellow Daoist Wang of the Heavenly Fate Sect and his companion have arrived, perhaps we might combine our strengths and attempt to breach the encircling hordes of demon beasts.”

“Demon beasts?” Wang Lin’s face remained impassive, but his mind seized upon the term.

Tanlang, his face a mask of indifference, was about to dismiss the suggestion outright when his gaze suddenly sharpened, fixing upon the violet mists in the distance. He had perceived a subtle tremor, a faint contraction in their ethereal form.

Meeting Chenlong’s gaze, Tanlang grudgingly acquiesced. “Since you are so eager, and lest you suspect me of some hidden motive, very well, let us make another attempt.”

Chenlong swiftly shook his head. “This one would never dare. It is merely that our prolonged confinement has stirred concern for our brethren within the demonic lands.”

Tanlang snorted, his body blurring as he shot into the air, leading the way into the swirling mists.

Chenlong inhaled deeply, offering a respectful bow to Wang Lin. “Brother Wang, let us cast aside sectarian rivalries for the moment. Once within these mists, escape is nigh impossible. Only a single exit exists, directly ahead, but it is guarded by a throng of peculiar demon beasts. To break free, we must force our way through!”

Wang Lin nodded, joining Chenwu and the remaining four disciples of the Heavenly Net Sword Sect. He activated the Brand of Life, remaining ever vigilant.

He was not alone in his caution. Chenlong, too, subtly channeled his powers, wary of treachery from Wang Lin.

The other Heavenly Net Sword Sect disciples, especially Wuma, glared at Wang Lin with undisguised hostility. Each harboring their own suspicions, they plunged into the violet mists, following close behind Tanlang.

Leading the way, Tanlang remained on high alert. He felt the persistent, intangible touch of the hidden consciousness brushing against his very soul, a presence that seemed ready to strike at the slightest lapse in his vigilance.

“Damn it all,” Tanlang muttered, his face darkening with each step. “When did Wang Lin acquire such an ally?”

Their pace was swift, and soon they approached the edge of the violet mists, where the swirling vapors thinned, allowing glimpses of the world beyond.

Their spiritual senses could now pierce the veil, revealing the landscape ahead.

As Wang Lin’s spiritual sense spread, it touched the outer world, and his mind reeled. His eyes widened in disbelief.

“This… this is…” He gasped, drawing in a sharp breath.

The scene before him stirred an impossible memory, a phantom echo of the ancient God’s inheritance, where he had witnessed an endless swarm of insectile beasts blanketing a distant planet.

Wang Lin’s shock did not surprise Chenlong and the others. They had experienced similar awe upon first seeing the horrors that awaited them. What they did not know, however, was that Wang Lin not only recognized these creatures, but was intimately familiar with them.

Even Tanlang had not foreseen this.

Beyond the veil, a vast legion of mosquito-like beasts seethed, their incessant droning filling the air. The moment they saw the newcomers emerge, they raised their long, needle-like proboscises, their multifaceted eyes gleaming with ravenous hunger.

Meanwhile, at another edge of the violet mists, Wang Lin’s own mosquito beast emerged, its massive form extending halfway out of the purple haze. It stared blankly at the countless swarming creatures before it, a profound bewilderment etched across its insectile face.

While confined within the storage pouch, the beast had sensed a pervasive aura of anxiety, a sensation it had never experienced before. Yet, paradoxically, it also felt an inexplicable familiarity, as if drawn from the very core of its being.

Now free from its prison, it lingered in the mists, drawn to the source of this unsettling yet familiar energy, torn between an urge to approach and a primal fear.

It was like a wanderer returning home after years of exile, overwhelmed by the emotions of homecoming.

A few of the mosquito beasts on the fringes of the swarm noticed their kin. They paused, their predatory eyes fixing upon the newcomer, but in an instant, the ferocity faded, replaced by a hesitant curiosity.

They buzzed softly, approaching Wang Lin’s beast and circling it tentatively, their long proboscises gently probing. Finally, they returned to the swarm, emitting a series of high-pitched calls, as if beckoning their brethren.

Wang Lin’s beast hesitated for a moment, then followed them, vanishing into the teeming mass. No one noticed the exchange.

Tanlang paused at the edge of the mists, his senses alert. But then, in a sudden, unexpected movement, he whirled around, his eyes fixed upon the violet vapors. The mists themselves were undulating, shifting restlessly, as if disturbed by an unseen force.

This agitation was not confined to a single spot, but rippled throughout the entire violet expanse, accompanied by a rumble like distant thunder, the sound of the mists grinding against one another.

This phenomenon immediately drew the attention of the Heavenly Net Sword Sect disciples and Wang Lin.

A flicker of elation crossed Tanlang’s face. He had detected the anomaly in the mists moments earlier, which was why he had agreed to Chenlong’s hasty proposal. Now, drawing in a deep breath, he reached into his storage pouch and produced a small, unassuming cauldron.
From within the cauldron, a plume of violet vapor erupted, enfolding the figure of Tan Lang entirely. Then, with a single stride, he emerged from the swirling amethyst mist.

In that instant, a subtle shift occurred within his mind. A piercing shriek echoed from the swarms of mosquito-like beasts that infested the Violet Mist Stream. All the creatures responded with a cacophony of agonizing cries, a sound akin to a soul-snatching dirge, which permeated the fog. The dirge inflamed the listener’s heart and made him more emotional and unrestful.

The fog thickened, roiling and churning in upon itself, starting from its outer edges. From another vantage point, one could clearly see the violet mist, lodged deep within the abyss, contracting at an alarming, frenzied pace.

Chen Long and his companions paled, instantly moving to break free. But as they took their first steps, Tan Lang’s laughter boomed, a wave of energy unleashed from his sleeve that halted the disciples of the Great Lo Sword Sect in their tracks.

“For a century I have waited! At last, the Violet Mist Unification is upon us! And you,” Tan Lang’s voice echoed through the swirling vapors, “You shall be the offering, the price of my ascension!”

A cold glint flickered in Wang Lin’s eyes. At that moment, Zhou Yi’s voice resonated within his mind.

“Wang Lin, during this swirling of the Violet Mist, a celestial power emanates from its borders, capable of trapping all cultivators. Only those who possess a Celestial Root can escape its grasp, but it holds no power over me. I can carry you out!”

Wang Lin glanced at the disciples of the Great Lo Sword Sect before him. A decisive choice flashed in his mind. Instead of immediately accepting Zhou Yi’s offer, he began to retreat.