The moment the radiant pillar vanished from the forsaken realm, that shard of land upon which it stood was instantly devoured by the encroaching abyss. A ring-shaped fissure, vast as a hundred paces, consumed all without a trace. Throughout the celestial realm of thunder, a chilling wind, born from the void, unleashed its fury.

This wind, thick with malice, grew ever stronger, coalescing into an endless, mournful sigh that poured forth from the rifts, sweeping across the ravaged land.

The fragmented continents of the celestial realm crumbled further. Now, less than twenty pieces remained, each buffeted by the spectral gales. Black, crystalline ice formed with a sickening crackle, spreading inexorably until the remaining shards were entombed within its frigid embrace.

From afar, the black ice exuded an eerie, spectral dread, chilling the very soul of any who dared to gaze upon it.

The chains of lightning that bound the remnants together succumbed as well. Ice crystals bloomed at their edges, hardening in an instant, stretching with chilling speed until every chain of lightning became a frozen link in a spectral cage. Those cultivators yet within the Thunder Celestial Realm were instantly frozen solid by the vengeful wind, their final moments preserved in grotesque tableau—flight, struggle, or silent resignation.

Some were rent asunder, yet their shattered forms remained suspended, every fragment of flesh and every droplet of blood frozen in mid-air, a gruesome spectacle.

Upon one of the larger shards, a frozen, middle-aged warrior clutched at nothing, his enchanted blade hovering motionless before him. He was not alone in his icy captivity, for all magic, all artifice, was ensnared by the frost.

Some, caught in the midst of invoking potent spells, were frozen mid-incantation. Within the clear, icy prison that encased them, the faint, dying embers of their magic flickered like trapped fireflies.

These tiny sparks of trapped magic were the only light in the shattered Thunder Celestial Realm, scattered like distant stars, beautiful to behold but deadly to approach.

With the entombment in ice, the realm’s destruction ceased. The black, frozen ruins stood as a testament to the cataclysm that had befallen this place.

A phantom blade streaked through the frozen wastes, its passage unhindered by the ice. The ethereal blade was long and slender, its silken tassel dancing in the wind.

Upon the tip of the blade stood a figure, equally spectral, gazing serenely ahead, a faint smile gracing his lips. Then, in a flash, the figure and the phantom blade vanished into the distant horizon…

Meanwhile, across the Rotian Starfield, within its four great Domains, ripples manifested abruptly in a hundred different locations. These emanations appeared with no discernible pattern, their emergence defying any sense of order.

From the heart of each ripple emerged a warrior, their faces etched with elation and the lingering shock of near-death. They gazed at the star-strewn sky, momentarily lost in its vastness.

Regaining their bearings, they hastened towards their respective clans. Tales of the horrors within the Thunder Celestial Realm began to spread like wildfire throughout the Rotian Starfield.

Above all, one name was spoken with awe and reverence in the halls of the dozens of influential families to which these survivors belonged.

Who was it who stood before the gates of the Thunder Celestial Realm, defying the White-Haired Fiend as it devoured all in its path, remaining unvanquished? Who, in that hour of crisis, wielded mighty powers to scatter the gathered warriors, sparing them from certain doom? Who, amidst the realm’s collapse, ignited a spark of hope, saving them with a fragment of land a hundred paces wide? And who was it that led them through the Thunder Immortal Palace’s teleportation array, shattering the radiant barrier and uttering a single word of command that stilled all opposition, transporting them to safety in the very instant the array crumbled? Xu Mu! The families of the hundred survivors, some great, some small, formed a force to be reckoned with.

Under the weight of their collective influence, the Thunder Immortal Palace remained conspicuously silent about the forbidden teleportation. It was as if the event had never occurred. In truth, these families had no choice but to openly declare their gratitude and loudly praise the name of Xu Mu. For a clansman to trespass upon a forbidden array of the Thunder Immortal Palace was a perilous act that could bring ruin to their entire line. The Palace was surely aware of this transgression.

Rather than await the wrath of the Thunder Immortal Palace, they banded together, seeking to reason with the ancient order. In this way, they hoped to find a sliver of hope. Their only other option was to silence those who had escaped from the Thunder Celestial Realm.

Yet, those chosen to venture into that realm were always the scions of their lines, the future leaders of their families. How could they be sacrificed? The heads of these clans, wise and cunning, saw the truth clearly. And thus, they managed to avert disaster by glorifying Xu Mu’s deeds.

At the same time, they had inadvertently spread his name far and wide.

Especially through the tireless tales of those he had saved, Xu Mu’s deeds were embellished and amplified until no one could truly discern his true strength. The clan elders, after careful questioning of their returned kin, were struck with awe at the accounts of the unbelievable powers he wielded against the White-Haired Fiend.

The name Xu Mu became a storm that swept across the Rotian Starfield. But no one has seen him since; as if he had vanished without a trace.

Rotian Starfield, the Western Domain.

This is a vast expanse of stars, where great swaths of nebulae emit brilliant light, coalescing to form strange and wondrous shapes that captivate those who behold them.

Among the four great Domains, East, West, North, and South, it is in the Western Domain that the most fearsome beasts reside. Within its vastness, the number of cultivators pales in comparison to the other three Domains.

It could even be said that nearly seventy percent of the entire Rotian Starfield is forbidden to cultivators, for even the void itself is fraught with danger. There lie creatures of unimaginable power that lie far beyond the knowledge of cultivators.
There, the Celestial Ascendants called the region the Outer Wilds. Only those blessed with great arcane power dared venture into its borders, seeking rare ingredients for potent elixirs and enchanted artifacts. Yet, even they remained on the fringes, for deep within the Outer Wilds lurked terrors that chilled the very soul.

Now, in the western reaches of the Ascendant’s domain, at the heart of the Outer Wilds, lay a starscape most unsettling. A pallid, lightless expanse, swallowed by an oppressive darkness that veiled all but the nearest hand.

No starlight glimmered, no astral bodies shone. The blackness was abhorrent, the silence profound. It felt as if no mortal foot had ever trod upon this space, eternally forsaken. Indeed, though not the very core of the Outer Wilds, this place bordered upon its most perilous depths.

Suddenly, a single point of light ignited within the gloom. At first, it was but a feeble spark, yet in moments, it erupted into blinding brilliance, momentarily banishing the shadows from the surrounding void.

As the light illuminated the area, it revealed swirling mists, thick as oceans, roiling and uneasy. These mists, it seemed, were repelled by the light. As the spark blazed, they recoiled, retreating to form a clear circle of roughly a thousand fathoms in radius.

The light, pulsating and growing, expanded until it formed a ring of radiant energy, ten fathoms across. It shimmered with arcane power, and within its depths, a spectral figure began to coalesce.

Slowly, the form solidified, until it became a man. His eyes, the eyes of Wang Lin, were wary. As the figure appeared and the ring of light dissipated, he took in his surroundings. He noted with particular concern how, as the light faded, the mists beyond the clear circle writhed, eager to reclaim the space.

With the disappearance of the ring’s light, darkness descended once more, and a primal instinct surged within Wang Lin. A sense of imminent danger raised the hairs on his neck.

Reacting swiftly, he summoned the Thunderous Might of his spirit. Drawing upon his inner strength, he weaved a powerful incantation, and two orbs of raw lightning crackled into existence in his hands.

The two orbs blazed with intense light. As they manifested, the mists recoiled. They had already crept within a hundred fathoms, yet now, as if scorched, they writhed back, resuming their position a thousand fathoms distant.

Wang Lin’s face was grim. He watched the encroaching mists, and then surveyed the surroundings, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Where am I?” he muttered.

“These mists… they are unnatural, almost as if they possess a life of their own!” His eyes narrowed. With a sudden motion, he hurled one of the lightning orbs forward, a deafening thunderclap echoing through the starless void.

The mists parted before the orb, creating a temporary conduit. Wang Lin seized the opportunity, surging forward in pursuit of the fading light.

He followed the dissipating orb, traveling ever deeper, but the mists seemed endless.

Throughout the journey, Wang Lin remained on guard. These mists were far too strange to be ignored. He dared not unleash his spirit sense freely, for he had a distinct feeling that such an act would provoke a dangerous reaction from the swirling vapors.

The feeling was vague, but potent.

After three days of such flight, Wang Lin halted. The seemingly endless mists stretched before him, unchanging.

He paused, the chill of realization washing over him. Slowly, he calmed himself, relaxing his mind and body. Taking a step forward, he allowed a ripple of energy to emanate from his foot.

His gaze remained steady. He sought to meld with the fabric of this alien world. With each step, more ripples radiated outward, and the sensation of unity began to grow.

It was the swiftest and most complete union he had ever achieved. His recent trials at the hands of the Flame Thunderbolt had primed his spirit, forging a deeper connection with the very essence of existence. Even his physical form seemed more attuned to the currents of the cosmos.

With his third step, as his right foot touched the ground, Wang Lin vanished. Only a fading ripple remained, quickly swallowed by the encroaching mists, and once more, darkness reigned, unbroken by a single ray of light.

Far distant, perhaps at the very edge of the mist-shrouded realm, the vapors thinned, becoming less oppressive. Suddenly, a ripple appeared out of nothing, banishing the surrounding mist. Wang Lin materialized within it, taking a step forward.

But the moment his foot touched the ground, his face changed.

He had indeed reached the edge of the mists, but only three fathoms before him lay a wall of dark, crimson flesh. The expanse was enormous, extending beyond sight in either direction, and reaching up into the darkness above.

Wang Lin’s expression was grave. While attempting to merge with the world, he had sought his own home star, but as he merged, he had felt himself collide with an impenetrable barrier. He had been forcibly ejected from the unified state, appearing here.

Seeing the flesh-wall, Wang Lin knew. The barrier he had sensed was this monstrous edifice. And it was not merely a wall; it writhed and pulsed, with shifting bulges that flowed across its surface.

Frowning, Wang Lin rose into the air along the surface of the wall. But the moment he ascended, the flesh quivered violently, and countless fissures ripped across its surface, spewing forth gouts of black mist.

Wang Lin dodged the deadly vapors and clung to a section of the wall where the flesh remained intact. With a glint in his eyes, he watched the mist flow from the gashes and into the surrounding gloom.

After what felt like half the length of an incense burning, the discharges began to subside, fading until no more mist emerged, and the fissures slowly sealed shut.
Wang Lin spared a glance at the endless expanse of flesh above, a glint of resolve hardening his eyes. With a swiftness born of desperation, he darted into a closing fissure beside him. As he slipped through, the rent in the flesh sealed shut with unnatural speed.

He found himself within a narrow tunnel. Icy resolve burned in Wang Lin’s gaze as he blurred forward, his speed leaving only fleeting afterimages in his wake.

Behind him, the fissure relentlessly shrunk, as if a hungry beast chasing its prey. Wang Lin ignored it, his focus locked on the path ahead, each step bringing him closer to his goal.

The passage was not as long as he had feared. Soon, the end drew near, and he burst forth from the fleshy confines.

The instant he emerged, a cry of startled surprise echoed in his ears. Wang Lin’s eyes snapped into sharp focus.

This place was not shrouded in darkness. A scattering of starlight, countless in number, illuminated a scene of breathtaking strangeness. Before him lay a continent adrift in the void, a boundless expanse that stretched beyond the limits of sight.

In the distance stood a man clad in simple cloth. His features were unremarkable save for the arcane runes etched upon his face, twisting like gnarled branches. He clutched a bizarre artifact, shaped like a long-spouted pitcher but vastly larger, almost reaching his own height.

The startled cry had issued from this man. He stared at Wang Lin, terror etched upon his face, and scrambled backward as if confronted by a monstrous beast.