In the city of Ran Yun, the Sun clan, with roots deeper than ancient oaks, had swiftly ascertained the whereabouts of Wang Lin and his son.

Guided by informants, they hastened toward the pair, Sun Qiming at their lead.

“Patriarch,” began a blue-robed elder, “this man speaks with brazen arrogance, uttering words such as ‘this is the only time, let there be no next.’ When has any dared…”

Sun Qiming cut him off, brow furrowed. “Silence!”

The elder, startled, fell mute.

“You make mountains from molehills,” Sun Qiming rebuked, his face a mask of displeasure. “The man showed mercy, yet you are ungrateful!”

He continued, voice low and dangerous, “Great though the Sun clan may be, the unchallenged power of Ran Yun, it was purchased with bitter sacrifice in days gone by. Continue on this path, and one day you will draw down a foe that will break us!”

“Grandfather Sun,” interjected a voice. It was the violet-clad youth, Yun Wufeng, from the tavern, the very cause of the trouble. “Surely the Sun clan has the protection of that esteemed senior. What foe would dare cross you?”

Sun Qiming turned a cold gaze upon the young man. “Yun whelp. This trouble began with you. Steel yourself. This will not end so easily.”

Yun Wufeng, a scion of the Yun family of Yunhai Star, one of the five celestial titans of the Northern Domain, was a disappointment to his kin. Lacking the aptitude for the Path, he remained among the lesser branches of the clan. He lingered on Ran Yun Star, drawn by the beauty of Qing Yi, captivated by her almost divine grace. Common cultivators cannot travel off their cultivation stars until they reach the nascent soul stage, but large families like the Yun are an exception.

Though disregarded at home, his status as a Yun held sway here. The families of Ran Yun Star treated him with utmost respect, for the Yun family stood as the foremost power on Yunhai Star, eclipsing even the fallen House of Huan.

Yun Wufeng scoffed inwardly. Though he held no power of his own, none in this Northern Domain would dare offend him, lest they incur the wrath of the Yun.

Arriving in the northern district, the Sun clan halted a hundred paces from the Wang estate. Sun Qiming, face grim, stared at the characters etched upon the gate: “Wang Estate.”

“Wang…” He had secretly scanned the city upon his arrival, and again now. He could sense nothing out of the ordinary.

After a moment, he strode forward and bowed, “Sun Qiming of the Sun Clan greets the esteemed Daoist!” His voice, laced with celestial energy, echoed through the Wang Estate.

Soon, a page emerged, comely and serene. He surveyed the assembled Sun clan and spoke, “My lord bids you depart.”

Before Sun Qiming could respond, a red-faced elder scoffed. He did not even glance at the page, “Such arrogance! Does he think to dismiss the Sun clan so easily?” With a single stride, he surged toward the gate.

Sun Qiming watched, brow furrowed, lost in thought, and did not intervene.

The elder, a cultivator of the Transformation Divinity stage, crossed the threshold. But the moment his foot touched the ground, his face drained of color. A formless force emanated from within, striking him with such power that he coughed blood, stumbling back, his eyes wide with terror.

Sun Qiming paled. In that instant, he had felt the aura of a peak cultivator, and even more jarring, he recognized it.

Without hesitation, Sun Qiming seized the red-faced elder and hurled him back. Then, bowing deeply toward the Wang Estate, he cried, “Forgive us for disturbing the senior’s cultivation! We shall depart at once!”

With a wave of his sleeve, he whisked away the entire Sun clan, vanishing from the spot. They reappeared within the grand hall of the Sun clan’s branch here.

“Let no member of the Sun clan approach within a thousand paces of the senior’s abode! To disobey shall mean the severing of cultivation and banishment from the family!” Sun Qiming, even now, could feel his heart pounding. Cold sweat beaded on his brow.

“Only he possesses such power… to shatter a Golden Core with a glance!” Sun Qiming breathed deeply.

Never had the Sun clan seen their patriarch so shaken. The blue-robed elder, casting a glance at the red-faced elder, now a husk of a man, murmured, “Patriarch, who… who is he?”

Sun Qiming glared. “You fools! You dare provoke such a being? A name you all know, one before whom even our ancestor must bow with respect! Were it not for him, the Sun clan would not be where it is today!”

“Could it be… could it be…” the blue-robed elder stammered, a name rising in his mind.

Sun Qiming nodded grimly.

In that instant, every member of the Sun clan paled. The phrase “This is the only time, let there be no next!” echoed in their minds.

Even Yun Wufeng, understood the gravity of the situation. When he had asked the elders of his family’s trade caravan to allow him to remain on Ran Yun Star, they had warned him of one person above all others: Xu Mu, the man who had swept aside the Huan family all those years ago. Xu Mu’s name had spread like wildfire through the Northern Domain in the intervening decades. The battle with the Huan had been far too spectacular, even terrifying.
A blush burned upon his cheeks, and Yun Wufeng retreated to his chambers within the Sun Clan manor. There, he found Qingyi, her face ashen, seated forlornly. Her cultivation was suppressed, rendering her as helpless as a commoner. Since her expulsion from the Sun Clan, she had been seized and delivered to this place.

Within the Sun Clan’s halls, some, eager to curry favor with the Yun lineage, attended to her needs as best they could.

Yun Wufeng, upon returning, paid scant attention to the captive Qingyi. Instead, he stood transfixed, staring at the flickering candlelight, his heart heavy with regret.

Qingyi’s gaze, fixed upon Yun Wufeng, held a chilling frost.

“This is all your doing!” Yun Wufeng whirled, his anger lashing out at her. “Had it not been for you, I would never have provoked the son of Xu Mu! All because of you!”

Qingyi remained silent, her eyes still glacial, but in the next instant, her gaze widened in sudden terror, fixed upon the space behind Yun Wufeng.

Yun Wufeng, bewildered, turned, only to be met with a consuming darkness as he crumpled to the floor.

“Senior…” Qingyi scrambled to her feet, bowing low in deference.

Wang Lin stepped from the shadows, a wine gourd in his hand. He seated himself with a sigh, took a long draught, and spoke, his voice slow and measured, “Your potential is… adequate. Serve my son for a span of sixty years, and I shall gift you with the cultivation of a nascent soul.”

Qingyi, taken aback, pictured the face of Wang Ping. A delicate flush crept upon her cheeks. After a moment of contemplation, she gave a slight nod of her head.

Three days hence, Wang Ping departed, Qingyi by his side.

Wang Ping, with his ideals burning bright, ventured forth from Qishui City. He yearned for more than a commonplace existence; he craved a life of consequence! Wang Lin remained behind, and on the night of Wang Ping’s departure, he drank deeply. His cultivation should have rendered him impervious to intoxication, yet that night, he was drunk.

It was the first time in his eight centuries of existence that he had known such a state. His face, devoid of magical glamours, appeared far older, etched with the passage of time.

Life continued its relentless march, the wheel of fate turning inexorably. Three years passed in a blink.

During those years, Wang Ping sent no word. Wang Lin made no effort to seek him out with his divine sense. He had granted his son freedom and choice, and he would not interfere.

In the northern reaches of Ran Yun Star, a new faith had risen in those three years. Known as the Celestial Path Sect, it spread only amongst the mortals, eschewing the attention of cultivators.

The growth of the Celestial Path was explosive, quickly spreading from the north, consuming all before it like an unquenchable wildfire.

Whispers, like snowflakes in a blizzard, began to fall. They spoke of the sect’s leader as a celestial being. Whispers also told of a woman who constantly accompanied him.

Ten more years swept by like falling leaves.

Wang Lin appeared even older now, his face a tapestry of wrinkles.

The Celestial Path Sect continued to snowball, its ranks swelling until even Qishui City held its adherents. One autumn day, as a brisk wind swept through the city, Wang Lin left his home and, as was his habit, settled into his usual corner at a nearby tavern, quietly drinking. His eyes, clouded with age, seemed unable to focus on the world around him, yet he gazed steadfastly out the window, as if awaiting something.

The tavern keeper, long accustomed to the old man, brought him his drink and food and then departed to serve other patrons.

As midday approached, the tavern filled, the clamor of voices growing louder.

“Have you heard? The Celestial Path Sect now holds sway over nearly half of Ran Yun Star, becoming the preeminent faith in the Three Great Empires!”

“Indeed! Even here in Qishui City, they have established a branch. I saw it just the other day.”

“My neighbor, Zhang Er, has joined their ranks. They even provide him with grain each month.”

“The Empire of Di Shan, in the north, is said to be almost entirely composed of followers of the Celestial Path.”

“At this rate, the Three Great Empires will surely move to crush them.”

“Perhaps. But the Celestial Path has been expanding for ten years. If the Empires wished to destroy them, they would have acted sooner.”

“Personally, I am more intrigued by the relationship between the leader of the Celestial Path and the woman who always accompanies him…”

Wang Lin quietly drank his wine, oblivious to the surrounding chatter. His gaze was fixed on the distant horizon, as if piercing the veil of distance to see Wang Ping, now a man of middle age, radiating purpose and conviction…