Yet the fortune was considerable. Though the Cataclysm of Ages past had diminished the spiritual essence of Ran Yun Star, it still fared better than the barren lands of Vermillion Bird Star.

Upon the hallowed peaks of Ran Yun, a father and son were often seen. They scaled the heights, standing at the summit to gaze upon the vast expanse of heavens and earth.

They observed the dance of the cosmos, the shifting tapestry of clouds. The land beneath them seemed to shrink, as if at a glance they could perceive its very edge.

Especially atop the highest peaks, where the winds roared like ancient beasts, Wang Ping would stand against the gale, his heart cleansed and elevated by the sight of the world unfolding before him.

With each mountain conquered, his slender frame gained strength. In his eyes, his father’s every deed was a testament to greatness, be it the twenty years of tranquil life or this present challenge against the immensity of creation.

Having surmounted peak after peak, Wang Ping’s spirit expanded with newfound breadth. He seemed to forget all earthly cares, lost in the embrace of the world. Though his father was his only companion, the mountains, rivers, skies, and earth themselves seemed to sense his presence, accompanying him in silent accord.

There was no loneliness, only the unbridled liberation of the soul! No perilous precipice could deter their footsteps, no towering giant of rock could remain unclimbed.

Though Wang Ping’s body was mortal, his spirit was tempered and refined by each arduous ascent, reaching a new height of understanding.

He learned of life from the mountains, solidified his will through perseverance, and sensed the boundless power of the heavens and earth through constant contemplation. Yet, he never faltered, never bowed before this immensity, instead, striving with mortal might to inherit the indomitable will that resided within his father, Wang Lin.

Wang Lin did not impart the secrets of cultivation to Wang Ping, but through his actions, he stirred within his son an immeasurable resonance.

When thirsty, they drank from mountain springs; when hungry, they ate fruits and hunted beasts; when weary, they rested upon the earth; when sleepy, they slept beneath the open sky, using the heavens as their blanket.

Three years passed with astonishing speed. During that time, Wang Ping’s respect for his father deepened. In his eyes, his father was the noblest being in all of creation.

Having conquered the mountains, they turned to the rivers! At various points along the waterways, the father and son could be seen, gazing upon the mighty rivers and listening to their roaring defiance.

A solitary skiff carried Wang Ping’s vision and evolving spirit, navigating through the rivers and braving the raging torrents.

This great river, encircling nearly all of Ran Yun Star, bore witness to the wanderings of Wang Lin and his son. Laughter often bubbled from Wang Ping’s lips, accompanied by Wang Lin’s hearty chuckle.

Such laughter was rarely heard from Wang Lin, almost nonexistent. His laughter seemed infectious, filling Wang Ping with boundless joy, as if the world held everything he needed so long as his father was by his side. “Father, I vow to remain by your side for all my days! Even in death, should reincarnation await, though we may no longer be father and son, I shall never forget you!” Wang Ping declared with unwavering conviction by the rivers. The solitary skiff sailed further into the river and traveled to most parts of Ran Yun Star and toward the sea. The land travels have ended, but the travels on the seas have just begun. The ship braved through the seas and the ocean breeze expanded Wang Ping’s world.

He observed islands, the crash of waves, the heavens unleashing thunder upon the waters, sending bolts of lightning across the surface. He beheld whales of such size they dwarfed entire villages, and even witnessed the elusive mirage of the sea.

The vastness of the ocean far exceeded that of the land. Wang Ping’s eyes shone brighter, feeling that ocean felt like his father’s embrace, vast and unfathomable.

Absorbing the ocean’s endless expanse, the mountains’ sharp peaks, the rivers’ winding currents, and sensing the grandeur of the heavens and earth, five years later, when Wang Lin and his son returned to land, Wang Ping had undergone a metamorphosis.

He was still a mortal, but his spirit could now contain the very universe! Upon their return, the final mountain they ascended was the Qilian Peak, near Falling Moon Village! At twenty-seven years of age, Wang Ping’s youthful innocence had vanished, replaced by an unwavering determination. Over the past eight years, the trace of unearthly beauty had disappeared from his features, leaving behind only unparalleled handsomeness.

His chiseled face now held a bright, sunny smile.

Beholding Wang Ping, Wang Lin smiled. These past eight years had been spent executing a long-contemplated plan to completely purge the lingering trace of resentment from Wang Ping’s soul.

Even Liu Mei’s elixirs and Wang Lin’s magic could only dispel the majority of the resentment. But it had permeated so deeply, becoming inextricably bound to his soul, as firmly rooted as ancient trees. The twenty years of peace had gradually calmed it, but it still lingered in the soul.

This one tiny trace of resentment was beyond the reach of any spell or potion, destined to remain until it was erased in the cycle of reincarnation.

At the foot of Qilian Peak, Wang Lin gazed toward the distant village, softly asking, “Do you not wish to visit?”

Wang Ping shook his head, replying, “I do not.”

Wang Lin said no more, but stepped toward the mountain. Wang Ping followed close behind, catching up to his father, and laughed, “Father, I remember hearing tales in my youth of the mystical mists upon Qilian Peak. It was said that a single breath of those mists could ward off illness for a decade. Back then, I wondered when you might bring me here.”

Wang Lin smiled and gazed at Wang Ping with great affection.

The majestic Qilian Mountain was gradually scaled by the father and son until they reached its summit. Above, countless clouds swirled, as if they were treading upon the very mists of the heavens.
Wang Ping drew a deep breath, his gaze resting upon his father. Though Mount Qilian stood majestic, it paled in comparison to the man before him. Its heights, though impressive, could not surpass the towering strength of his father’s spirit. In the distance, storm clouds gathered, their edges bruised with shadow. Flickers of lightning danced within, followed by the deep rumble of thunder, a primal display that held Wang Ping captive.

Soon, the thunder grew louder, and a damp wind swept across the land. Rain began to fall, gently at first, then with increasing intensity as the dark clouds spread.

The parched earth, starved for moisture, erupted in puffs of dust. But these fleeting bursts were quickly extinguished by the downpour, the particles absorbed into the falling drops, pulled back to the ground. They were like souls striving for celestial heights, only to be denied by the overwhelming power of the heavens. How many grains could truly escape such a fate? The storm raged, but father and son stood serenely upon the peak, untouched by the tempest below.

Save for the roar of thunder and the insistent patter of rain, silence reigned.

As quickly as it arrived, the storm began to dissipate. The clouds parted, revealing a vibrant rainbow arcing across the sky, a celestial bridge unveiled before their very eyes.

Its beauty was breathtaking, its seven colors a dazzling display that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe.

But this tranquility was shattered by a piercing cry. Far above, a streak of sword light tore through the heavens, a thunderous presence threatening to shatter the rainbow itself, passing clean through its heart.

Within the shimmering blade stood a man, an ethereal figure radiating an aura of otherworldly power. Beneath his feet, a jade green sword hummed with cold energy.

As he swept past, he noticed the two figures atop Mount Qilian. He paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

“Mortals who have climbed so high? They must possess exceptional fortitude,” he murmured. A glint of admiration touched his eyes, but he did not linger, instead pressing onward, vanishing into the distance.

Wang Ping watched, spellbound, as the figure disappeared. He had witnessed something extraordinary, something that stirred within him like a tempest.

“Father,” he breathed, barely a whisper. “Was that… an immortal?”

Wang Lin sighed softly. “It was.”

Wang Ping fell silent, lost in thought. Finally, he lifted his gaze to his father, his eyes burning with newfound determination. “Father, truly… can I not pursue the Dao?”

Wang Lin’s gaze drifted to the fading rainbow, a shadow of sorrow once again darkening his eyes. He shook his head, offering no further words.

Wang Ping did not press the matter, instead staring fixedly toward the place where the immortal had vanished.

They descended Mount Qilian, and Wang Ping remained lost in his thoughts. They traveled along the road to the nearest town, where they boarded a carriage bound for the city. Still, Wang Ping said nothing.

Besides the driver, only Wang Lin and his son occupied the carriage. Wang Lin stared out the window, his face etched with sorrow and a bitter pain that ran deep.

Silence filled the carriage. At last, Wang Ping lowered his head and whispered, “Father, I want to pursue the Dao.” It was the second time he had spoken these words.

The first had been ten years ago, when he was seventeen.

Wang Lin did not turn from the window. His voice was calm as he replied, “You are not suited for the Dao.”

“Father, why?” Wang Ping asked, his voice laced with frustration.

Wang Lin turned to face his son, just as he had done ten years before. He did not answer, but simply looked at Wang Ping, a long, silent gaze.

The rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels filled the silence, marking the passage of time. Finally, Wang Ping lowered his head. “I understand, Father,” he murmured.