Upon the Blood Star, a crimson sphere adrift in the void, its location lay beyond the reach of Tian Yun’s dominion, a distant outpost upon the star-strewn frontier.

It was a truth universally acknowledged amongst the great cultivators who dared claim a celestial body as their own, that distance was paramount. Even the closest of allies understood the necessity of separation, for caution was the watchword of these ancient beings, sharpened by eons of experience.

Thus, those powerful enough to carve out a realm upon a wandering star sought refuge far from the reach of Tian Yun’s patronage, seeking sanctuary in the lonely stretches of the cosmos.

A cultivator would never choose a haven where their every thought could be read, their every movement observed. Secrecy was the cloak that warded against the eyes of their rivals.

Blood Ancestor, a figure steeped in enigma, understood this principle well, and had been meticulous in his selection of a domain.

Upon the star chart bestowed by Tian Yunzi, the Blood Star was marked as a place of utter isolation, devoid of any celestial neighbors of similar power.

This, amongst other reasons, was why Wang Lin’s true form had set course for this forsaken place.

Trailing a comet’s tail of shattered rock, the true form of Wang Lin, an aura of chilling resolve hardening his features, hurtled towards the Blood Star. The vastness of the starry sea swallowed him, the might of the Alliance a seemingly infinite expanse compared to his singular form.

Days bled into weeks as Wang Lin journeyed onward, a beacon of murderous intent cleaving through the astral plane. He was not entirely alone; he crossed paths with other travelers, cultivators who paused, their gazes narrowed as they beheld his approach, but none dared challenge him.

Few, if any, within the Four Great Star Domains could claim true knowledge of the Ancient Gods. Whispers and legends were all that remained, gleaned from dusty tomes, painting pictures of beings far removed from the present age.

The Ancient Gods described in these texts were behemoths, celestial titans whose forms dwarfed even the mightiest of celestial bodies. A mere four-star Ancient God, as Wang Lin currently appeared, gave off only a faint echo of this legendary power. Only those who had witnessed the true might of the Ancient Gods in days long past would recognize the vestige within him.

And so, this was another reason why Wang Lin’s true form made itself known.

Yet, these reasons were but the backdrop to the true driving force behind his relentless flight: a fire of defiant fury that raged within his soul. His avatar had been struck down, plunged into a coma so deep that the threads connecting it to his true self threatened to sever.

And if those threads were to break, his avatar, a part of himself, would be extinguished.

A killing rage boiled within Wang Lin’s heart. After countless eons of cultivation, the boundary between self and avatar had blurred. The avatar was him, as he was the avatar.

To lose it was to suffer a mortal blow.

To cower in the face of such an assault, to retreat and bide his time, would be to deny the very essence of who he was.

Some actions demanded to be taken, regardless of consequence!

“Let them believe the chance of encountering an Ancient God is slim! Even if they were to recognize me, so what?!” Wang Lin’s eyes gleamed with a frigid light, his speed redoubling.

The memories of the Ancient Gods, while unable to grant him access to their offensive powers in his current weakened state, did offer a measure of protection. Upon attaining the power of a half-formed four-star Ancient God, Wang Lin could utilize one particular skill: a safeguard for the young.

The ability to “Spiritualize.” To merge with a planet, not to consume its essence, but to become one with its very soul, falling into a state of profound dormancy. Only a being of equal celestial origin could hope to pierce this veil.

Such was the might of the Ancient Gods, a power that transcended the abilities of mere cultivators.

“My only concern is Tuo Sen! But should that eight-star monstrosity break free, his very presence would ignite the alarm of every powerful cultivator in the Alliance. Let them suffer the consequences! I, Wang Lin, am no savior!” The coldness in Wang Lin’s eyes deepened.

Upon the Blood Star, a multitude of blood-thralls existed, marionettes controlled by the Blood Ancestor. Their souls bore his mark; they lived when he lived, and died when he died.

Most were stolen from the surrounding kingdoms, robbed of their freedom and forced into servitude. Others were young acolytes, nourished with blood-infused elixirs, transformed into blood-wardens, charged with the protection of the Blood Star.

The Blood Ancestor was a man of callous indifference, save for the affection he held for his daughter, a rare glimpse of paternal warmth in his heart.

Indeed, upon the Blood Star, only the Blood Ancestor and his daughter were truly free. All other beings were mere instruments, their lives hanging by a thread of the Ancestor’s will.

Zixin sat upon an altar before the Blood Pavilion, her face etched with worry. She frequently glanced back at the Pavilion, the Blood Ancestor’s forbidden sanctum, a place where even she dared not tread.

Suddenly, several crimson streaks shot through the sky, resolving before Zixin into the forms of four aged men. The air crackled with their power, marking them as cultivators who had stepped into the second realm.

“Mistress, another group of blood-thralls has perished…” One of the elders spoke, his voice low and somber.

Zixin bit her lip, lost in silent thought.

In recent months, the Blood Star had been plagued by a terrible malady. The blood-thralls and blood-wardens were dying in droves, their bodies inexplicably exploding. More than seventy percent of them were already gone.

These events filled Zixin with dread. The only possible explanation was that the Blood Ancestor was in trouble!

“Mistress, where has the Blood Ancestor gone?” Another elder raised his head, his gaze fixed upon Zixin.
“Presumptuous! Is that a question you dare pose?” Zixin’s gaze chilled, her words like ice, yet within her heart, a deeper dread festered. Before this day, none would have dared speak so. Now, suspicion gnawed at all, even herself: was the Blood Ancestor truly on the brink of oblivion?

The elder scoffed, turning to stride away. His mood was foul, yet mingled with a hint of liberation. The Blood Ancestor’s mark, a cursed brand, resided upon him as well, but now, that bond held no sway.

“Six millennia past, the Blood Ancestor forced this seal upon me, since which I’ve dared not stray beyond this Bloodstar’s bounds without his command. Now, it is clear the Ancestor is undone. Here, I am but left to await death, but die I shall, in my own homeland!” Grief lined the elder’s face as he soared into the heavens.

Before Zixin, the three remaining elders watched their departing comrade vanish into the sky. After a long moment of heavy silence, they exchanged knowing glances, unspoken agreement passing between them. In unison, they transformed into streaks of iridescent light, following the path to the heavens.

“How dare you! Fear you not the Ancestor’s return…?” Zixin’s eyes blazed, rising to her feet, her voice sharp with menace.

But before her threat could fully form, one of the departing elders paused mid-flight, casting a contemptuous glance downwards. “Insolent whelp! You are naught but a bauble to the Blood Ancestor. Deem you yourself as his consort? We, men of cultivation, bowed to you only for his sake. Without the Ancestor, you are nothing! I have trod this Bloodstar for nigh ten thousand years, and seen scores of your kind come and go!”

With those words, he surged upward, disappearing into the celestial expanse.

Zixin staggered, silence descending upon her.

As the four crimson-robed elders ascended, the Blood Slaves, those not yet broken upon the Bloodstar, lifted their heads, their eyes reflecting inner turmoil. Whether by unspoken pact or individual volition, they began to ascend. Within moments, virtually every Blood Slave had joined the exodus. Zixin witnessed this exodus, resolve hardening within her gaze. She turned to the Blood Pavilion, approaching the structure with swift purpose. Recalling the Blood Ancestor’s ritual to unlock its secrets, she hesitated, then steeled her nerve.

But in that instant, the heavens above were suddenly plunged into darkness. An oppressive weight descended upon the Bloodstar, crushing all beneath it. Zixin gasped, looking up, her face draining of all color.

“What… what is this…?” In the void, the foremost of the escaping crimson-robed elders exchanged grim nods. No words were needed to confirm the resolve in their eyes. They were about to scatter when a sense of foreboding struck them, their gazes fixing on a distant point in the star-strewn abyss.

A river of shattered rock hurtled towards them, and upon that stony torrent stood a colossal titan of a hundred fathoms, his eyes cold and radiating a killing intent.

The elders exchanged swift glances, and with no hesitation, they transformed into four streaks of rainbow light, each fleeing in a different direction, caring nothing for the reason behind the giant’s approach.

*Blood Ancestor, your reign is over at last!* The same thought echoed through the hearts of all four elders.

Behind them surged the throng of Blood Slaves. Each paused, seeing the titan, but chose their own liberation. Snickers of dark joy escaped them as they scattered.

Some did not flee far, remaining within sight of the Bloodstar, eager to witness its destruction.

Wang Lin, with his ancient soul, understood their motives instantly. He did not seek to halt them, but instead channeled his power to drive the river of stone towards the Bloodstar.

As he drew near, Wang Lin rose from the rubble, seizing two enormous boulders, each a hundred fathoms across, and hurled them down upon the Bloodstar.

A thunderous roar echoed as the boulders streaked like fiery comets towards the planet. As they neared, a blood-red barrier shimmered into existence, shattering the projectiles.

Wang Lin’s eyes burned colder still. Without pause, he continued his assault, unleashing boulder after boulder, his colossal strength sending them hurtling towards their target.

Finally, with a single bound, Wang Lin leaped forward, arms outstretched, channeling his inner power to gather the scattered stones, directing the river of rubble toward the Bloodstar.

Countless fragments crashed down, and each impact shook the planet to its core, sending visible shockwaves rippling across its surface.

Zixin’s face was deathly pale. The tremor in the ground and the raw power that now washed over the land sent shivers of terror down her spine. She watched as an enormous boulder came crashing from the heavens, and each impact caused the earth to shake violently.

She could not imagine what power, what technique, could summon such devastation.

“This… this is terrifying…” Zixin murmured. The fear that bubbled within her was like a rising tide. She cast a glance toward the Blood Pavilion and began the secret hand seals that had been burned into her memory over the years.

She had watched, when the Blood Ancestor opened the vault, carefully studying each hand movement and practicing in secret. Now, as the Bloodstar fell apart and with an outside invader closing in, the hand seals came more rapidly. Before the pavilion, a red light began to pulse and soon there was a small portal made of pure crimson light. Zixin grinned with satisfaction.

Just then, the sky went dark again and a giant shadow overtook her. Zixin stilled and looked upwards, stunned.

In the sky, a colossus of three fathoms tall floated down, his chilling stare fixed upon Zixin.

Zixin began to tremble. She saw behind the colossus more boulders, each a hundred fathoms wide, were hurtling towards the ground. The terror within her became all-consuming.
She cast her gaze downward, a desperate plea etched on her face, towards the Crimson Pavilion. Without hesitation, she charged forth, a soul driven by a forgotten promise, towards the maw of the passage that had bloomed within its crimson heart. Yet, the instant her foot dared to trespass the threshold, a shriek, a lament ripped from the depths of her being, echoed across the shattered landscape.

The sanguine light of the passage descended upon her, and her flesh, once vibrant, began to wither. A horrifying spectacle unfolded, her skin dissolving with unnatural speed, replaced by wisps of acrid, emerald smoke. Even her nascent soul, the spark of life itself, crumbled beneath the malevolent influence.

From afar, the man observed, powerless to intervene. Her form dissolved entirely into a miasma of green, and the swirling vortex of the Pavilion’s passage greedily devoured her essence.

He regarded the crimson structure with icy disdain. With a surge of power, he seized not only the Pavilion, but the very earth beneath it, tearing a hundred feet of scarred ground from the wounded planet.

Meteor shards rained down from the heavens, each impact a thunderous dirge for a world on its death throes. Holding the Crimson Pavilion aloft, he unleashed his wrath upon the ravaged land. Each strike of his fist was a cataclysm, splitting the ground, unleashing earthquakes that threatened to tear the very fabric of the planet.

The Red Star shuddered and groaned, its essence dissolving into a cosmic dust. Finally, with a defiant step, the man launched himself into the firmament, leaving behind the wreckage, and vanished into the starry abyss.

The blood-sworn, the Blood Servants and Crimson Guardians who bore witness to his rage, offered no resistance. Their faces, etched with a mixture of awe and fear, turned towards his departing silhouette. Instead of defiance, they offered a silent salute, a gesture of farewell to the harbinger of their freedom.

Soon after he was gone, a wave of bewildered clarity washed over them. The invisible shackles that had bound their minds for generations shattered, and each, driven by a long-dormant yearning, turned their faces towards homelands long forsaken.