The golden shackles shattered, their radiant gleam extinguished in a burst of fractured light. Countless shards rained down upon the earth, scattering from Wang Lin’s hand, leaving behind a single, shimmering droplet of liquid gold.

With effortless precision, guided by an unseen force, Wang Lin had crushed the treasure, leaving the essence within untouched. Should the emissary of the Thunder Immortal Palace, the artifact’s former master, have witnessed this act, he would surely have gasped in anguish, his heart cloven in twain.

Though not the most prized possession within his hoard, the emissary had been a frequent user of this relic, loathe to even consider its destruction, no matter the cost.

He knew that within the artifact lay the key, the very source of its power to seal. Yet, he lacked the mettle to sacrifice the whole for a chance at the part.

Indeed, any cultivator of the Yin-Yang or Illusory-Realms would have felt a pang of sorrow at such a sight. For if the gleaned treasure proved worthless, or of lesser value than the intact artifact, such an act would be deemed utter folly.

A nascent soul, still treading the first steps of cultivation, would be struck not with sorrow, but with awe, an earthquake of the spirit! For upon the hallowed world of Vermillion Bird, a mere seven or eight centuries past, such a treasure would have ignited a frenzy of covetous conflict, drawing even the attention of the Vermillion Bird Saint himself.

Unbeknownst to himself, Wang Lin, the pilgrim of a thousand years, had reached a point where such relics could be cast aside without a second thought, simply to plumb the depths of their sealed magic.

The passing centuries had brought not only mastery of cultivation but a broadening of vision, a deepening of understanding. Few things now held his gaze, save those imbued with profound meaning, or those that had accompanied him on his thousand-year journey.

A treasure favored by a Thunder Immortal emissary, no matter how humble, would surely be of celestial make. Yet, Wang Lin had crushed it with ease, his heart untouched by regret.

His gaze fixed upon the golden droplet nestled between his fingers, a fire ignited within Wang Lin’s eyes. From the center of his brow, a rift tore open, birthing a third eye that blazed into existence. A crimson beam erupted forth, enveloping the droplet in its all-seeing radiance.

Beneath the gaze of the third eye, the golden liquid began to dissipate, returning to its primordial state. The process was slow, deliberate. Wang Lin’s third eye flickered with strain, yet the liquid resisted, diminishing only by half.

“There is power here that lingers under my third eye. Most Curious!” Wang Lin’s eyes gleamed with newfound interest. He channeled his primordial energy, pushing the third eye to its limits. The crimson beam intensified.

The golden liquid succumbed, its dissipation accelerating. At last, after a moment of intense focus, the droplet vanished, leaving behind a tapestry of golden threads, intricate and interwoven, forming a complex symbol of shimmering light.

The symbol pulsed for less than three heartbeats before collapsing, dissolving into nothingness, leaving Wang Lin’s fingers empty. “A Glyph…” he murmured, lost in thought. Reaching into his satchel, he produced the Immortal Brush, summoning it to his hand and tracing a pattern in the air.

Moments later, the symbol, now replicated by Wang Lin’s hand, hovered before him. It radiated no perceptible energy, appearing mundane, utterly unremarkable.

Wang Lin frowned, then his face cleared with sudden understanding. He closed his eyes, releasing his spirit, allowing it to flow outward. He opened them again, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Impossible, it is undetectable to the spirit!” A decisive glint entered his eyes. He touched the glyph, sending it forth. Under his control, it soared through the air, racing towards the swarm of Mosquito Beasts circling overhead.

One of the creatures, joyful in flight, felt its fur bristle. It looked down, preparing to evade the glyph, but Wang Lin calmed its spirit, so it hesitated, its gaze fixed on the approaching symbol.

In a flash, the glyph imprinted itself upon the beast, shattering into a golden liquid that spread across its body. The Mosquito Beast writhed, then broke free, flying a safe distance before looking back at Wang Lin, whining in confusion and mild indignation.

Wang Lin’s eyes shone with revelation. When summoning the Immortal Brush, he had used but a tenth of his stored power. Yet even so, the newly learned glyph had displayed such formidable potency. What power could he unleash if he used his full strength?

“The true power of the treasure lies in the glyph. Confined within the relic, its potential was stifled, limited. By drawing forth its essence, I unleashed its true nature.” Wang Lin, putting away the Immortal Brush, came to understand its nature

Had another attempted this feat, lacking an ability such as the third eye, they would have taken the golden liquid and sighed to no gain. “This is the first glyph I have extracted from an object. And its purpose is containment, so i shall name it the Seal Glyph!” Wang Lin traced its form several times in the air, engraving its image in his memory, ensuring that it would not fade. Then, as he lowered his hand, a thought struck him. “If this Seal Glyph can be drawn forth from an artifact, surely it can be placed within one, to grant that artifact its power!” A strange light sparked within Wang Lin’s eyes, a burning ambition taking root.

“My artifacts are mostly taken from the world. Few did I create from scratch…” Wang Lin parted his lips and spat out a piece of sand. The sand grew and swelled into a hundred-foot slab of fragmented rock, and as it hovered, Wang Lin’s eyes grew brighter.
The object, a shard of a celestial realm shattered and reforged in a cataclysmic tribulation, withstood the merest touch of a Purewater Immortal Lord without so much as a scratch. Its inherent strength was significant, yet as a treasure, it remained incomplete. Its initial impact stemmed solely from the residual celestial pressure it exuded, briefly imprisoning those caught beneath its shadow. In truth, its destructive power was minimal, a pale imitation compared to the devastating might of treasures like the Twin-Essence Scourge, or even the third Divine Chariot.

Wang Lin, with his immortal brush, conjured a glyph in the air before him, a seal of potent magic.

“Now,” he declared, rising to his feet, “I shall bestow upon this shard its true purpose! The power of Binding!” With a flourish of his brush, the glyph shot forth, embedding itself within the hundred-foot fragment, a surge of energy coursing through its inert form.

Without pause, Wang Lin took to the air, his brush a whirlwind of motion, each stroke birthing another sigil of binding. They rained down upon the shard, an incessant barrage of arcane energy.

Faster and faster he moved, his form a blur around the colossal fragment, until he was a living tempest, thunder rumbling in his wake. His skill deepened with each inscription, at first crafting a single glyph with each stroke, then ten, then a score, all merging seamlessly into the ancient shard.

For days, Wang Lin toiled without rest, his eyes fixed on the fragment, his mind consumed by the task at hand. He etched rune after rune, an unending stream of power flowing from his brush into the heart of the stone.

Countless seals he inscribed, until the dark stone began to gleam with a faint golden light. Yet still, he did not falter, a golden lightning bolt weaving in and out of the fragment’s colossal form, binding it, shaping it.

On the third day, he collapsed, landing heavily on the earth. He sat in meditation, drawing breath, his face pale. Three days of unceasing effort had taken their toll, even on his considerable reserves of power.

The fragment had shrunk, now only eighty feet in length, its faint golden hue deepening ever so slightly. After a few hours of rest, he opened his eyes, renewed, and resumed his work.

As the days bled into nights, marked only by his brief periods of respite, the fragment dwindled further: fifty feet, forty, thirty. Finally, it was reduced to a mere ten feet in size.

The golden radiance it emitted intensified, a miniature sun blazing with celestial fire.

Wang Lin, his weariness forgotten, felt a surge of elation. After a short rest, he returned to the sky, this time dedicating a full five days to his crafting.

He collapsed again, his face ashen, his steps faltering. But the triumphant fire in his eyes burned brighter than ever before.

“Henceforth,” his voice echoed, resonating with the very heavens, “this creation shall be mine, and I shall name it… the Seal of Immortals!” Before him floated a three-inch token, radiating blinding golden light. A mortal gazing upon it would instantly be blinded, their minds shattered by the celestial force.

Even a skilled cultivator, if unprepared, would feel their spirit tremble, their flesh prickle with pain as if pierced by a thousand needles. Those of great power would feel a sudden, instinctive fear, a premonition of their very souls being bound.

The three-inch seal pulsed with an immense, unearthly power. Waves of refined immortal energy washed over the world, and above all else, the palpable aura of binding reigned.

Wang Lin, for over a month, had poured his soul into the creation of this single artifact. The number of seals he had inscribed, he roughly calculated, numbered over six hundred thousand!

Six hundred thousand seals, compressed within the heart of the once massive shard, had forced it down to the size of his palm. The power contained within this small object filled Wang Lin with unwavering confidence.

He gazed at the Seal of Immortals, a glint in his eye. With a flick of his wrist, he cast a final set of restraining seals upon it. Slowly, the radiant immortal energy began to fade, the overwhelming power of binding subtly veiled. At last, this fearsome treasure, destined to be a legend, was complete.

“Now,” Wang Lin murmured, gazing at the muted artifact, which appeared as innocuous as any common trinket, “it matches the treasure I envision.” A spark of triumphant satisfaction flickered in his eyes.