The celestial tapestry of Luo Tian spun its cosmic threads over Ran Yun, a verdant sphere adrift in the starlit void.

As Wang Lin materialized upon its surface, three invisible tendrils of immense spiritual power lashed out, seeking to grasp his presence. Yet, quick as a wraith, Wang Lin vanished, leaving not a trace for the probing senses to detect. Two of the presences, wary of each other, refrained from open confrontation, each retreating after a fruitless sweep of the land.

The third, however, was less subtle. It was a crude, forceful probing that scoured Ran Yun from pole to pole. Finding nothing, the presence dissolved, but not before a chilling snort reverberated across the planet, a sound that found its way to Wang Lin’s ears.

In a secluded plain of Ran Yun’s northern reaches, Wang Lin rematerialized. He gazed skyward, muttering to himself, “A Nascent Soul cultivator in the mid-stage, and two in the early. This Luo Tian region is curious indeed. Such a lush world, teeming with spiritual energy, yet only three factions vie for its dominance, each ruled by a single Nascent Soul lord.”

“Were Ran Yun within the Alliance, it would surely be plundered, claimed either by a reclusive Immortal or annexed by a Grade Six cultivation kingdom. Never would it be allowed to linger with a mere trio of Nascent Soul cultivators at its helm.”

Lost in thought, Wang Lin began to subtly suppress his aura, masking his true power. In moments, he radiated no trace of his Nascent Soul cultivation, presenting instead the facade of a mere Core Formation cultivator in the late stage.

His true cultivation, after all, resided at the early Nascent Soul realm, further concealed by the arcane nature of his primordial spirit. Only those of significantly higher power, standing in close proximity, could pierce his carefully crafted veil. The ancient Immortals of the Second Step, of course, were an exception.

“Here, I should remain undetected,” he mused. “Even should Tian Yunzi and his ilk pursue me, they would never suspect I’d sought refuge on such an unremarkable world.” A flicker of sharp light danced in his eyes, slowly fading until only the pure, unadulterated clarity of black and white remained.

“The expressions of those four youths betray the might of Dong Lin. Until my cultivation is strengthened, that is a place to avoid!”

A faint smile touched Wang Lin’s lips, banishing any trace of the stern ascetic he had been. He seemed, in that moment, as gentle as a spring breeze. With a wave, a commonplace flying sword emerged from his storage pouch, settling beneath his feet. In a flash of silver, he soared into the sky.

As he flew, his features began to shift and mold, slowly but surely transforming. Soon, he bore no resemblance to his former self, unrecognizable even to his closest acquaintance.

Such transformations were common amongst cultivators, yet often deemed a frivolous skill by the more powerful. A discerning eye could easily pierce the illusion, and some gifted with arcane vision could even glimpse the true face beneath.

Wang Lin’s transformation, however, was different. It was not a mere facade crafted with personal energy, but a manifestation of the Immortal Guard’s innate ability. Few, indeed, possessed the power to see through such a profound veil.

Before long, a walled city emerged on the horizon, its ramparts built of imposing grey stone. An aura of solemn authority emanated from it. Above the gates, two characters were emblazoned in bold strokes: “Sun Clan.”

A few miles from the city, Wang Lin deactivated his sword, descending in a graceful arc. He brushed the dust from his robes, and walked with unhurried steps towards the gates.

Perhaps it was his apparent Core Formation cultivation, but the guards paid him little heed. They informed him of the dwelling places set aside for outsiders in the city’s northern district, and after a small tribute of spirit stones, Wang Lin received a token granting him temporary residence within the Sun Clan’s domain.

Within the city walls, mortals bustled about, intermingling with a steady flow of cultivators. Shops lined the streets, offering a diverse array of goods for both the spiritual and the mundane.

Wang Lin walked amongst them, his expression calm, as though he had been a resident of this place all his life. Having decided to settle here for a time, he sought a suitable dwelling.

Upon entering the northern district, he was immediately struck by the tranquility and the rich spiritual energy. A multitude of single-person dwellings were scattered throughout, each protected by arcane barriers.

At the entrance to the district, a powerful barrier kept out unwanted intruders. Beside it stood a twelve-foot monolith, upon which hung several black tokens.

At the foot of the monolith, a young man in the Core Formation stage sat in meditation, his eyes closed in concentration. Two plumes of vapor exhaled from his nostrils, dissipating slowly into the air.

Wang Lin stood at the edge of the district, studying the barriers. They were child’s play to his discerning eye. He could step directly through without triggering a single defensive mechanism.

As he considered his approach, the young man beneath the monolith opened his eyes, glancing indifferently at Wang Lin. “Only eight rooms remain. Which one do you want?”

Wang Lin’s expression remained unchanged, his voice gentle. “What is the difference between them?”

The young man’s face twisted in annoyance. “The upper rooms are a thousand low-grade spirit stones per year. The lower rooms are one hundred.”

Wang Lin paused briefly, then placed a hundred spirit stones on the ground. The young man’s eyes flickered with disdain as he flicked his sleeve, snatching the stones from the ground. He then plucked a token from the monolith behind him and tossed it to Wang Lin. “West Row, number five. Be gone!” With that, he closed his eyes once more, resuming his interrupted meditation.

Wang Lin caught the token, glancing down at it. Two arcane seals were inscribed upon it, one serving as a key to the district’s barrier. He pocketed the token and passed through the entrance.

As Wang Lin’s form disappeared within the district, the young man beneath the monolith opened his eyes once more, muttering to himself with a sneer, “Another outsider, hoping to draw upon the Sun Clan’s spiritual energy to break through to the Nascent Soul stage. Hmph, the Nascent Soul stage is not so easily attained. That one’s talent is mediocre at best. He likely only reached the Core Formation stage with the aid of pills.”

Wang Lin heard the youth’s words, of course. He spared a glance behind him before continuing on his way. Soon, he arrived at the fifth dwelling on the West Row.

The building was simple, yet pleasing to the eye, and the air within shimmered with spiritual energy. Using the token, he entered the abode, and after a brief inspection, deemed it to his liking.

The dwelling consisted of a single room, furnished only with a bed and a meditation cushion. A smaller chamber contained a small alchemy furnace and a partially enclosed meditation room. Though not extravagant, it was nonetheless refined and uncluttered.
Beyond the chamber’s oaken door, Wang Lin, with a casual flick of his wrist, subtly reinforced the room’s existing wards. His touch amplified their strength tenfold, a testament to his arcane mastery. He then settled into a meditative posture upon the floor, drawing a deep breath of the rich, ethereal air.

A serene expression washed over his face as the spiritual energy flowed through his meridians. After a time, Wang Lin exhaled a wisp of stale air, a hint of longing flickering in his eyes.

“It has been long since I truly nourished myself with such energies,” he murmured. “Alas, even such potency cannot elevate my cultivation further.” Wang Lin’s gaze turned inward, reflecting his inner quandary. The celestial jades within his storage pouch had been almost entirely consumed during his ascension to the Ascendant stage, leaving him with barely enough to sustain daily practice.

“As for celestial dew, only five droplets remain. Though the four I imbibed during the Ascendant Fruit’s ripening granted me a seemingly endless font of celestial power, such a boon cannot last. In a few years, the dew’s essence will settle within me, its power diminished.

Furthermore, though a single drop sufficed for ascension, the demands of my current stage are exponentially greater. Consumption would be wasteful. Its true worth lies in healing grave wounds or briefly replenishing depleted celestial energy! Thus, securing a steady supply of celestial jades for daily sustenance becomes my foremost concern.”

As twilight descended, casting the chamber into shadow, Wang Lin gestured, and a candelabrum flickered to life, bathing the room in a soft, dancing light.

Embedded within the ceiling, a fist-sized, azure orb pulsed gently. As tendrils of smoke from the burning candles curled upward, the orb absorbed them, its interior slowly illuminating.

Intrigued, Wang Lin had never witnessed such ingenious craftsmanship. He gazed upward, the orb growing ever brighter.

After a half-incense stick’s duration, the orb resonated with a soft, azure glow, so gentle that it extinguished the surrounding candles, becoming the sole source of illumination within the chamber.

“This orb contains three interwoven enchantments, forming a minor art that gathers smoke, transmutes it into heat, and then condenses that heat into light. The Star Domain of Luo Tian surpasses even the Alliance of Cultivators in such matters.”

A subtle fragrance of sandalwood wafted from the orb, filling the air with a calming serenity.

“The third enchantment is the sandalwood,” Wang Lin noted, withdrawing his gaze. “It is non-toxic, and indeed, accelerates a cultivator’s absorption of spiritual energy, a rare material for alchemy.”

Settling once more into meditation, surrounded by silence, Wang Lin pondered for a long while. A glint flickered in his eyes as a plan took shape, but he quickly dismissed it.

“To seize by force is the path of the lesser man. Moreover, the quantity of celestial jades I require is beyond the means of most cultivators, save for those who have reached the Ascendant stage, or perhaps the influential families of the Luo Tian Star Domain.

But to act in such a way would force me to abandon Ran Yun Star and seek refuge elsewhere. Unacceptable.”

Lost in thought, Wang Lin finally lifted his head, his resolve firm. He tapped his storage pouch, and a selection of crafting materials materialized.

Exhaling a stream of his Primordial Spirit’s essence, he enveloped the materials, causing them to melt and reshape themselves into three distinct forms at his mental command:

A flying sword, a bronze mirror, and a hairpin.

Wang Lin performed a series of hand seals, weaving enchantments into each item. A palpable aura of power emanated from the nascent artifacts, infused with a trace of lightning, a signature of Wang Lin’s Primordial Spirit.

Having completed the enchantments, Wang Lin paused, recalling a cultivator he had encountered long ago on Planet Suzaku, one whose dominion was the passage of Time. With his current understanding, and the strength of his own Dao, he could imbue his work with a semblance of that power.

He beckoned the bronze mirror, and the essence of Time settled within its depths.

Then, Wang Lin meditated once more, this time upon the Heartless Dao of Illusion, as practiced by Liu Mei. Visions of countless illusions flashed before his eyes, culminating in a blinding light that erupted from his gaze, infusing the hairpin.

As for the final piece, the flying sword, Wang Lin imprinted no dominion. Instead, he etched a translocation sigil within its core.