The waters of the pool had long been claimed by the Ancestor of the Illusion Clan, drained through arcane sorcery, leaving behind a hollowed chasm in the earth. There he hovered, a figure wreathed in solemnity, suspended in the still air.

Below him, tens of thousands of the Illusion Clan stood in silent vigil, their faces etched with grim expectation. An unnatural quiet blanketed the valley, stretching for leagues in every direction.

One by one, the clansmen approached the precipice of the pit, drawing steel across their arms, letting crimson spill forth to appease the void. As the lifeblood ebbed, they retreated, faces ashen, leaving a crimson offering upon the parched earth.

With each passing clan member, the dark pool within the pit grew, a viscous mire of mingled blood, its pungent, metallic aroma rising to sting the nostrils.

The sacrifice of ten thousand souls did not fill the abyss, yet the amassed tide was formidable. Last among them stepped the Clan Ancestor himself. Without hesitation, he sliced his own wrist, a torrent of vital essence flowing into the depths. More than any other, he surrendered his strength, his visage paling with the cost. At last, he stilled the bleeding, and with a whispered incantation and a flourish of ancient gestures, uttered a single, potent word: “Merge!”

At this pronouncement, the blood-soaked basin churned into a violent vortex, drawing all within into a swirling dance, dissolving the individual offerings into a single, indivisible mass.

From the sacrifice of ten thousand, the purest essence of the Illusion Clan’s bloodline would be distilled, woven into a thousand crimson sigils to be branded upon a single vessel. From that vessel, the very blood of life would be purged and transmuted. This was the rite of Bloodforging.

“Illusion Brow!” The Clan Ancestor’s voice resonated with the weight of ages, a thunderous command that echoed through the silent valley.

“Sire,” a voice answered, and from the ranks of the assembled clansmen, a figure emerged. Clad in pristine white, she exuded an aura of ethereal purity.

“Enter the bloodspring. Meditate,” the Clan Ancestor instructed, his voice heavy with anticipation.

Illusion Brow inclined her head, her silken hair swaying as she moved towards the crimson mire. Her bare feet sank into the viscous depths, the metallic tang assailing her senses. A flicker of distaste crossed her features, yet she pressed onward, wading deeper, until the blood lapped at her knees, her waist, her breast, and finally, closed over her head, claiming her entirely.

Within the churning vortex, no trace of her remained. She had sunk to the bottom of the pool, enveloped by the legacy of her clan.

The Clan Ancestor drew a deep breath, his hands moving in a blur, weaving a tapestry of arcane gestures that he cast into the bloodspring. A palpable power emanated from him, blanketing the land in an oppressive shroud.

As his incantations quickened, the bloodspring began to seethe, its vortex spiraling with ever-increasing ferocity.

At length, the Clan Ancestor’s eyes flared with an inner light, and he roared, “Our Ancestors, from the shattered realm of the Thunder Immortals, though their celestial domain is lost, their blood lives on! By the Bloodforging ritual, we shall draw forth this power, and for the glory of the Illusion Clan, forge another heir!”

A complex cantrip flowed from his lips, coalescing into glyphs that shimmered and settled into the bloodspring.

“Lineage, reveal thyself!” the Clan Ancestor bellowed. In an instant, the churning of the bloodspring ceased, and with a thunderous roar, it surged upwards, forming a pillar of crimson, reaching for the heavens.

Then, in a heartbeat, the pillar shattered, collapsing into a thousand swirling sigils that danced in the sky above. In the chasm below, Illusion Brow reappeared, seated in lotus position, her eyes tightly closed.

The Clan Ancestor inhaled deeply, his fingers forming a mystic seal. He pointed towards Illusion Brow, and a fissure rent her brow, spilling forth crimson lifeblood. As the vital fluid continued to flow, her face grew ever paler.

Suddenly, one of the swirling sigils plummeted from the sky, branding itself upon her. Following its lead, a cascade of crimson runes rained down, consuming her, until every inch of her flesh was covered in arcane script.

The Clan Ancestor’s eyes narrowed, and in a single stride, he stood beside her. He raised his right hand, and upon his palm, a divine light bloomed, a kaleidoscope of shifting forms. Gaze into its depths, and you would glimpse the totality of your existence: birth, age, sickness, death, love, and hatred, all swirling within its radiant heart.

This was the Clan Ancestor’s Way, the Path of a Thousand Illusions!

He pressed his palm to Illusion Brow’s crown, and his immense spiritual power poured into her very soul. At the same time, he unleashed his own celestial energy, holding nothing back, to elevate her cultivation to new heights.

The celestial energy required to ascend to the peak of the Nascent Soul realm was astronomical, an impossibility for anyone still treading the first steps of the Tao. Even those within the Yin Yang Void stage could not achieve such a feat.

Only those who had truly entered the Second Step could wield such power.

The Clan Ancestor, a cultivator of the Second Step, at the early stages of the Insight realm, was such a being.

Vast celestial energy, boundless spiritual power, melded together, transmitted into Illusion Brow’s body. For this disciple, the Clan Ancestor held a deep affection, and a genuine intent to make her the future leader of the Illusion Clan. Otherwise, he would never have damaged his own cultivation to assist her.

Illusion Brow shuddered, and the crimson sigils that clung to her skin dissolved, transforming into the bloodline of the Illusion Clan, flowing through her veins, purging her mortal blood entirely.

At the same time, her spirit pulsed with crystalline light, growing with astonishing speed, from Nascent Soul Early stage, to Mid stage, to Late stage, and finally, to the apex!

Envious gazes emanated from the gathered tens of thousands of the Illusion Clan. Their envy was understandable. So many cultivators languished, trapped within the Nascent Soul realm, many toiling for thousands of years to reach its zenith.

Yet Illusion Brow, in the span of a heartbeat, had attained what others could only dream of.

The Clan Ancestor’s arm visibly withered, and he aged before their very eyes. He stepped back, his eyes dimming, and gazed at Illusion Brow, whispering, “From this day forth, you are of the Illusion Clan. Your veins run with our blood. I shall retreat to seclusion. In my absence, train diligently, and strive to attain the Yin Yang Void stage as soon as possible.”

Illusion Brow turned, gazing at the Clan Ancestor, silent, offering only a nod of acknowledgment.
“Ten Thousand Illusions of the Demonic Path! I confess, I yearn to unravel its mysteries, to witness the transmutations its essence undergoes in the Second Step of cultivation!” The elder bellowed with laughter, his mirth unfazed by Liu Mei’s icy gaze. With a flourish of his voluminous sleeves, his form dissolved into the ether.

“Journey to Ran Yun, Illusory Brow! This is your trial, the first upon which your clan’s honor hangs. Carve your name into the annals of legend!” The Ancestor’s voice reverberated, a decree echoing through the ages.

Liu Mei lifted her head, her gaze sweeping past the countless thousands of her kin without pause. She rose, as light as a celestial sprite, and walked upon the very air itself, her destination the forsaken world of Ran Yun.

She sought no entourage, no guard nor companion. Alone, and with purpose unwavering, she embarked upon her solitary quest.

Deep within the chasm rent asunder by the earth’s agony, Wang Lin withdrew his gaze from the crimson clouds where the colossal Wang Yue had receded. Yet, shock still lingered in his eyes.

“That Wang Yue, a serpent of a thousand fathoms, its power rivals even those cultivators barely treading the path of the Second Step, the realm of Kui Nie! Were it not for the absence of the Ancient God, its aggression would know no bounds. As long as it remains undisturbed, it will retain its dormant, First Form.”

Wang Lin pondered, recalling the fragments of the Ancient God Tu Si’s memories concerning the Wang Yue. It was a parasite of Ancient Gods, existing in three distinct states. The first, the one he had witnessed, remained passive and unthreatening.

The second was a state of slumber, within the Ancient God’s very flesh. The creature’s countless tendrils would contract, transforming into bizarre and unsettling shapes.

The third, and most perilous, was a state of ravenous attack. In this form, its tendrils would extend endlessly, reaching lengths equal to its immense body. Encountering a Wang Yue in such a state was a harbinger of doom, demanding immediate flight, lest one become prey to its insatiable hunger.

Lost in thought, Wang Lin descended further into the chasm, his divine sense expanding, seeking the elusive veins of Golden Flame.

“The Wang Yue’s presence here is unsettling. It is a beast beyond my reckoning, best left undisturbed. My priority must remain the discovery of the Golden Flame.”

Swift as a dragon, Wang Lin navigated the labyrinthine fissures, until he reached a dead end. Unhesitating, he plunged forward, his form merging with the rock itself. With the arcane art of Earth Burrowing, he continued his descent into the depths.

As he traversed the earth’s bowels, a frown furrowed his brow. The surrounding soil secreted a viscous fluid, threatening to ensnare him were it not for the protective barrier of his immortal power.

“This place reeks of the unnatural!” Wang Lin muttered, his gaze sharpening. He extended his divine sense further, detecting pockets of powerful energy. At each such instance, he carefully circumvented them.

Ever deeper he went, his senses enveloping the entirety of Yun Xia’s subterranean realm. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. Deep beneath the planet’s surface, he beheld it: a vein of Golden Flame, stretching for leagues beyond counting!

This vast lode lay far beneath the crust, with one exposed segment piercing the surface on the far side of Yun Xia. It was there, long ago, that the disciples of the Illusory Clan had first stumbled upon this treasure.

Wang Lin’s frown deepened. He did not act, but instead, ruminated.

“Were this vein concealed, buried deep within the earth, it would be one thing. Yet it lies exposed, undisguised. Any cultivator of the Asking stage could discover it with a cursory search. Such blatant availability…is deeply suspicious.” He scrutinized the immense lode with his divine sense, yet could discern no treachery.

After a long deliberation, resolve hardened in his eyes. With a sharp tear, he ripped through the earth before him, and plunged onward, towards the heart of the Flame Vein.

Before long, he stood within the vein itself. A vast cavern, glimmering with golden light, unfolded before him. The lode itself resembled a colossal dragon, coiled within the heart of Yun Xia.

Hesitantly, Wang Lin approached. A sense of unease gnawed at him, a shadow that had fallen over his spirit since witnessing the Wang Yue, and refused to lift.

(Note: The author of the original text mentions the forthcoming confrontation between Wang Lin and Liu Mei. This has been omitted as it doesn’t directly translate into the rewritten fantasy narrative.)