Upon the desolate expanse of the Northwestern Qing Ling Star, a vast desert stretched to the horizon. Etched into the very sands, a colossal array of spirit jade glimmered, each piece precisely placed according to arcane design.

Within this grand formation, Wang Lin sat in meditative repose. His every breath drew in torrents of celestial energy, siphoned from the jade itself and channeled into his being. With each exhalation, this power coalesced, solidifying his immortal core.

The attainment of Nascent Soul Perfection was not an insurmountable goal for those who had Ascended to the Nascent Soul stage. Yet, few achieved it. The impediment lay not in comprehension of the Dao, nor the abundance of spirit jade, but in the elusive concept of “Formless Might.”

For when a Nascent Soul Ascendant attempted to merge their Essence with the Unborn Spirit, a deficiency of Formless Might would prevent the final, perfect union. Similarly, even with sufficient Might, grievous wounds sustained during the ascension process, those which scarred the very Essence, could dissipate the merging energies, thwarting any hope of Perfection.

Formless Might, it could be said, was the cornerstone of the first step toward true immortality. But Nascent Soul cultivators could not draw it from the heavens. Without a means of replenishment, few could attain the coveted state of Perfection.

Wang Lin’s Essence, tempered by the crucible of the Thunder Pool, had reached the pinnacle of integration with his Spirit. He met the most basic requirement. Bolstered by his elevated understanding of the Dao, and fueled by the ceaseless influx of celestial energy, he edged closer, moment by agonizing moment, to Nascent Soul Perfection.

The celestial energy demanded to complete this first step was staggering in its magnitude. A year passed. The spirit jade was exhausted. Without hesitation, Wang Lin drew forth a vial of celestial elixir from his storage pouch and drained it in a single draught.

The liquor, potent and sweet, flooded his senses. A heady mist, redolent with wine, enveloped Wang Lin, expanding outwards to shroud the desolate landscape. Within him, the elixir transformed into a tempestuous tide of celestial power, a forceful current surging through his meridians, relentlessly driving his cultivation toward its ultimate goal.

*Intent Ascendant, Essence Flows with Breath*. This was the mantra of Nascent Soul Perfection. An unshakeable understanding of the Dao, a heart free from doubt, celestial energy so vibrant it infused even the very air—these were the hallmarks of the completed soul.

In the nineteenth year and eight months of his sojourn upon Qing Ling Star, Wang Lin achieved it. Nascent Soul Perfection!

Miles upon miles of spirit jade crumbled to dust in his wake. The barren sands sprang to life, covered in a carpet of verdant shoots, a testament to the boundless energy unleashed.

Wang Lin slowly opened his eyes. Within their depths lay the boundless expanse of the cosmos, traversed by drifting clouds.

“A millennium of cultivation, at long last… perfection.” He exhaled, a gentle smile gracing his lips.

He recalled the insignificant disciple of Heng Yue Sect, from a thousand years past. Now, he had surpassed even the Vermillion Bird in the first step towards immortality. A feat that would be unfathomable to all upon Vermillion Bird Star.

Remaining seated, Wang Lin summoned from his storage pouch a pen crafted of pure, gleaming gold. With effortless grace, he began to paint upon the air before him.

His previous limit was seven sigils. Now, in a single unbroken motion, he traced not seven, but *eight* runes. They shone with blinding radiance, a miniature sun that threatened to overwhelm the minds of any who dared gaze upon it.

“The power of eight sigils… a leap beyond what I once could achieve!” Wang Lin’s gaze was calm, his demeanor that of a scholar rather than a warrior.

With the final stroke, the runes dissolved, their contained essence returning to Wang Lin’s spirit.

He rose to his feet and, with a single step, vanished without a trace.

A fortnight later, a bolt of lightning erupted from Qing Ling Star, a celestial spear aimed at the heavens. Within its crackling energy, Wang Lin sat upon the back of a great thunder beast, his eyes closed in silent meditation.

Every cultivator upon Qing Ling Star paused, their heads bowed in respect, yet with a palpable sense of relief. The oppressive aura of Wang Lin’s presence, now lifted with his departure.

Before leaving, Wang Lin had gathered the Immortal Ascension fruit that had grown over the decade and another batch of Resentment Jade Tablets. The soul within his Yellow Springs was stirring, on the verge of awakening.

With a thunderous roar, Wang Lin departed Qing Ling Star, the place he had called home for nearly two decades.

It was his retreat. And, having claimed the Thunder Cauldron, he would undoubtedly return. From here, the path to the Thunder Immortal Realm was far safer.

The lightning chariot hurtled through the void. Wang Lin, seated upon the beast, opened his eyes, lost in thought.

To reach the Thunder Immortal Realm, he must possess a Thunder Cauldron. Without it, there was no passage. This was a truth Wang Lin knew well.

However, the Luo Tian Starfield differed from the Alliance Starfield. The Thunder Cauldrons were not scattered, but for some unknown reason, were concentrated within the Thunder Immortal Palace. They were then distributed, in varying quantities, amongst the cultivation families based on their relative power.

The opening of the Thunder Immortal Realm was a mere three months away. It was the time when the families would receive their Thunder Cauldrons. Wang Lin’s eyes flashed with determination. A decision had been made.

“If there are no cauldrons to be had, then I shall simply take one!” Wang Lin patted the head of his thunder beast. The beast roared, seemingly pleased.

He considered seeking out Shen Gonghu, who might be able to acquire a Thunder Cauldron. However, the man’s cultivation was too high. Frequent contact could expose his secrets. He preferred to avoid him unless absolutely necessary.

Not all who entered the Thunder Immortal Realm were second-step cultivators. The majority were merely in the Nascent Soul or Spirit Transformation stage.

Guided by a jade slip left by Shen Gonghu, Wang Lin traveled to a cultivation star in the southern region of Luo Tian. The name of the star was of little consequence to him. Shen Gonghu’s message indicated that the planet was home to two cultivation families, both of whom received one or two Thunder Cauldrons each time the Immortal Realm opened. Moreover, no one in either family had achieved a cultivation beyond Nascent Soul Perfection.

Upon reaching the star, Wang Lin swept the surface with his divine sense. Both families’ most powerful members were absent. He settled in the void above, closing his eyes in meditation.
As the hourglass of time trickled onward, a mere month before the celestial gates of the Thunder Realm were to swing open, Wang Lin beheld a spectacle in the heavens. A score of luminous streaks, like fallen stars, hurtled towards him with a roaring cadence.

Amongst this returning band of cultivators, one stood apart, having ascended to the ethereal realm of Yin Void. The others, a mix of those who had touched the peak of Nascent Soul and those merely transformed into infants, trailed behind.

Their passage was swift, a blur of motion, yet they halted abruptly at a respectful distance, their gazes converging upon Wang Lin like rays of the sun upon a dewdrop.

The cultivator of Yin Void, an elder with hair like spun moonlight and eyes that held the glint of ancient wisdom, stepped forward. His inner energies, though potent, lacked the solidified strength of true mastery, betraying his recent arrival to that exalted plane. He studied Wang Lin with an expression etched with suspicion.

“Venerable Envoy,” the elder began, his voice a low rumble, “what brings thee to our Shrine Star?”

Wang Lin opened his eyes, a barely perceptible furrow forming between his brows. His gaze was placid, his words deliberate. “Do you return with the Thunder Cauldrons?”

A flicker of understanding crossed the elder’s face. “Indeed. What is thy will, Envoy?”

“I require a Thunder Cauldron,” Wang Lin stated, his tone unwavering.

The elder considered Wang Lin, a smile slowly creeping onto his face, laced with a hint of arrogance. His eyes flashed with defiance. “Whispers have reached us, tales of imposters claiming to be Envoys of the Thunder Realm. We dismissed them as mere fancy, but seeing thee, young one, I am convinced! Thou art the false one!”

“Oh?” Wang Lin’s countenance remained unchanged, his gaze steady.

The elder scoffed. “Envoys of the Thunder Realm command legions of devoted clans. Acquiring a mere Thunder Cauldron would be a trifle! Furthermore, I have met every Envoy within the Southern Domain of Luo Tian. Thou art a stranger!

“And most importantly, with the imminent opening of the Thunder Realm, all true Envoys are gathered within the halls of the Thunder Palace, awaiting the auspicious moment! They would not venture forth!”

Wang Lin nodded, his patience exhausted. He rose, his shadow rippling, and the Celestial Guardian materialized beside him. With a single stride, it lunged forward, its golden armor ablaze with celestial light, and unleashed a thunderous blow.

The force of the fist shattered the air, a deafening sonic boom echoing through the void as it aimed directly for the elder.

The elder’s expression twisted in surprise. He had dismissed Wang Lin as a mere peak Nascent Soul cultivator and deemed his thunder beast a mere illusion. He had not anticipated such a formidable guardian.

With a snort of disdain, the elder performed a hand seal, his fingers weaving a complex pattern. A dark flame erupted from his palm, scattering into a myriad of embers, like a constellation of malevolent stars.

His clansmen scattered, retreating to a safe distance to observe the unfolding conflict.

The Celestial Guardian ignored the fiery motes, allowing them to dance upon its form, its speed undiminished. The fist, a whirlwind of destructive energy, closed upon the elder, forming a dragon of pure force.

The elder paled, retreating swiftly. He summoned a shield of swirling fire before him, but the Guardian’s fist struck with the force of a collapsing mountain.

The fiery shield cracked, then shattered completely, the reverberations shaking the elder to his core. He stumbled backward, his face ashen. The Celestial Guardian, too, was pushed back by the force of the impact, dark flames licking at its limbs, threatening to consume it.

“I merely seek a Thunder Cauldron,” Wang Lin repeated, his gaze fixed upon the elder.

The elder glared at Wang Lin, his mind reeling from the Guardian’s devastating blow. Only a forbidden art could hope to overcome this construct of equal power.

*”This one commands such a guardian. He is no ordinary cultivator, even if he falsely claims to be an Envoy. But to yield a Thunder Cauldron so easily would bring shame to the House of Zhang!”* The elder wrestled with his pride. Had Wang Lin reached the Second Step, he might have conceded, for the Zhang family had secured three cauldrons. But to be strong-armed by a peak Nascent Soul cultivator was a bitter pill to swallow.

Wang Lin would brook no further delay. Though the elder’s cultivation was more formidable than anticipated, he had only recently entered the Yin Void realm, his power yet to be fully anchored. Wang Lin, at the peak of Nascent Soul, bolstered by his own skills and treasures, was confident in his ability to prevail.

He tapped his storage pouch, and a weathered stone appeared in his hand. As it grew, it transformed into a towering celestial mountain, suffused with potent celestial energy and an underlying aura of immense power.

Wang Lin pressed his hand upon the stone, causing it to tremble. An ancient energy emanated from its surface, gathering beneath Wang Lin’s palm. As he lifted his hand, a wisp of mist swiftly coalesced into a orb of swirling vapor.

The elder’s face drained of color. He stumbled backward, his eyes wide with terror. “The Art of Soul Extraction! How can a mere Nascent Soul cultivator wield such a power?!”

Wang Lin’s expression remained serene. He thrust his hand forward, launching the orb towards the elder with overwhelming force. Simultaneously, Wang Lin moved, following close behind the swirling mist, a bolt of pure lightning crackling in his hand. The very heavens roared in response, illuminating the cosmos.

Wang Lin was now a celestial being of thunder, wielding lightning as a weapon, his eyes burning with an icy resolve.

The elder’s face contorted in a mask of desperation. He retreated once more, performing a series of arcane hand seals, placing his fingers upon his brow. The skin there writhed, splitting open to reveal a grotesque, third eye!

His face flushed crimson, his blood rushing violently, all converging upon his face. The elder’s inner power coursed through his veins, merging with his blood, drawn to the opening on his brow.
A rending agony tore through the ancient one, as if his very being was being split asunder. With the surge of pain, a third eye, nestled upon his brow, slowly peeled open. Low, guttural growls clawed their way from his throat as he fixed his gaze upon Wang Lin, his aged hands forming mystic seals, pressing them against the twin hollows behind his ears!

Then, with a thunderous crack, the third eye burst fully open, unleashing a crimson beam that fanned out with terrifying swiftness, searing the air before it.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed. Such strange sorcery was this! He paused for a heartbeat, and in that fleeting moment, the Spirit of the Immortal Mountain drew near the ancient one, arriving just as the third eye unleashed its power.

The crimson light devoured the mountain spirit, disintegrating it at an alarming rate. Wang Lin’s gaze hardened. Without hesitation, he hurled the crackling lightning from his right hand.

With a deafening roar, the lightning snaked forward, aiming for the ancient one. The elder, already strained by the use of his strange, vital-energy art, found himself weakening. Having only recently attained the Insubstantial Yin stage, his power was simply insufficient.

After a mere three heartbeats, the crimson light faltered, unable to sustain itself. The third eye blinked shut, its power extinguished.

As the lightning and the remnants of the shattered mountain spirit descended upon him, the ancient one gritted his teeth. He plunged his hand into his pouch of holding, withdrawing an object and hoisting it high above his head!

With a swift, ethereal grab, Wang Lin plucked the object from the elder’s grasp. It was the Thunder Cauldron itself!

Having claimed the Thunder Cauldron, Wang Lin did not retreat. Instead, a curious light danced in his eyes as he regarded the weakened elder. “That power you wielded,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “would you be willing to trade it with me?”