In the celestial expanse of Luo Tian, where starlight blazed with untamed brilliance, a ripple tore through the void. From this rent in reality, Wang Lin emerged, his steps faltering, his complexion ashen. The clash against Yao Changdong had been a brutal dance with death, where a single misstep would have plunged him into oblivion.

“Yao Changdong is a true second-step cultivator, worthy of the Peering Nirvana realm,” Wang Lin muttered, his eyes glinting with fierce resolve. “The gulf between us is vast. Yet, when I too stand at the precipice of Nirvana, slaying him will not be such a perilous endeavor.” Unable to sustain his communion with the cosmos for long, Wang Lin shot forward like a fleeting star, then, without hesitation, merged once more into the fabric of existence, vanishing from sight.

“Now, I must find sanctuary to mend these wounds,” he thought. “Once healed, I shall return to plague the House of Yao!”

As Wang Lin’s presence faded, reverberations echoed through the stars. The ice-veined beauty, a woman of the Yao clan, materialized into being. A delicate frown creased her brow as she gazed at the spot where Wang Lin had disappeared. “Twice has he wielded the ‘Shrinking the Earth’ technique,” she murmured, her voice like the whisper of winter winds. “This Xu Mu possesses a formidable grasp of the power of heaven and earth.”

Had any familiar with the House of Yao been present, they would have instantly recognized her: Yao Bingyun, hailed as one of the ‘Three Phoenixes’ of Luo Tian’s Eastern Domain. The ‘Frozen Phoenix,’ Yao Bingyun, was among the most formidable of the third generation of the Yao clan, her cultivation rivaled by few. Her heart was as frigid as the deepest glaciers, and even toward her kin, she offered only cold silence.

Though her natural gifts were not the most exceptional within the Yao lineage, her devotion to the pursuit of the Dao was unmatched. Since reaching the pinnacle of Nascent Soul, she had dedicated herself to mastering the forbidden ‘Closing the Senses’ Immortal Art of her clan.

This esoteric technique sealed the seven apertures of the soul, blocking all perception: sight, speech, hearing, scent, taste, and touch. It was one of the Yao clan’s three forbidden arts, for few possessed the resolve to still their minds in such a way. More importantly, it earned its ominous title because those who practiced it risked being forever lost within the self-imposed prison of their senses, succumbing to oblivion.

Throughout the ages, many Yao clan members had perished in pursuit of this art, and its practitioners grew fewer and fewer with each passing era.

Yao Bingyun, in this state of sensory deprivation, had secluded herself upon the Ice Star, a forbidden ground of the Yao clan, for five centuries.

Upon emerging, her demeanor was colder than before, radiating an aura of perpetual winter. Her heart was set on the Dao with a strength beyond comprehension. Among the third generation of the Yao, only two had grasped the ‘Shrinking the Earth’ Divine Ability, and of those two, Yao Bingyun was the most adept, her understanding profound. She turned her gaze forward and, her face an impassive mask, continued her relentless pursuit.

Ten days passed in this chase, and Wang Lin began to sense that something was amiss, growing ever more vigilant.

Through the star-strewn emptiness, Yao Bingyun pursued him relentlessly. Ordinarily, she would not involve herself in the Sky Canopy Edict issued by her clan. She would have used the time to further her cultivation, seeking enlightenment in the ways of heaven.

However, the Blood God, the ancient progenitor of the Yao clan, had declared that whoever brought Xu Mu’s head would have the entire might of the Yao clan at their disposal to fulfill a single wish. This alone had stirred Yao Bingyun to action.

“Sister… I must save you…” Yao Bingyun whispered, her lips pursed in grim determination. She vanished once more into the void, merging with the cosmos to continue her hunt.

During those ten days, the news of Xu Mu’s reappearance spread like wildfire across the Luo Tian Starfield. The tale of how twenty-eight cultivators, a united force from several clans, had been routed, with twenty-six slain and only two escaping, sent shockwaves through the realms.

Many who had almost forgotten the name of Xu Mu now recalled the legends of his deeds in the Realm of Thunder Immortals.

Even more astonishing was the composition of the slain group: three Yang Completion cultivators, nine Yin Void cultivators, and sixteen at the peak of Nascent Soul. Yet, this formidable force had been effortlessly slaughtered by Xu Mu. Of the two who survived, one returned to his cultivation star and immediately declared that his clan and his star would never again involve themselves in the feud between Xu Mu and the Yao clan. The other, a Yang Completion cultivator, was in even worse condition, his nascent soul damaged. Upon returning to his clan, he immediately retreated into seclusion and issued a similar edict: no further involvement! This series of events resurrected the name of Xu Mu in the memories of cultivators throughout Luo Tian!

Almost simultaneously, the news that Yao Changdong, a Peering Nirvana cultivator of the Yao clan’s third generation, had fallen at Xu Mu’s hand, erupted like a storm across the Luo Tian Starfield. That those who hunted under the Yao clan’s Sky Canopy Edict were being slain instead sent shockwaves through the cultivator community, etching Xu Mu’s name even deeper into their consciousness.

The Yao clan’s response was swift. Countless clansmen and their allied cultivation families converged upon the Western Domain of Luo Tian.

Their numbers were staggering, forming a dense, ever-tightening net around their prey.

Meanwhile, Wang Lin, ever cautious, continued to merge with the heavens, refraining from large-scale teleportation. Instead, he sought to shake off the pursuer who mirrored his ability to blend with the cosmos.

Though he had never laid eyes on his pursuer, the feeling of being hunted was deeply ingrained. Wang Lin resolved to remain within the embrace of the heavens, constantly shifting his position.

Now it was a contest of enlightenment, a trial of who possessed the deeper understanding of the Dao and could sustain their communion with the universe for the longest.

Once his pursuer emerged from the void, Wang Lin could seize the initiative and ensure that they never detected his true location.

Wang Lin had experienced the Flame Thunder Child’s fusion with the heavens, and within that crucible, his nascent soul and body had merged with the cosmos for an extended period. Now, gritting his teeth, he persevered, clinging to existence within the tapestry of the universe.

Time slipped by. Though Yao Bingyun possessed a profound understanding of the heavens, she lacked Wang Lin’s experience. On the sixteenth day, she could endure no longer and emerged from the void.

The instant her form materialized, she attempted to lock onto Wang Lin’s elusive presence, but he was gone.

Yao Bingyun’s face remained serene. She tapped her storage bag, and a small mirror appeared in her hand. With her left hand, she formed a mystical sign as if divining the threads of fate. Holding the mirror, she rested for a moment, then merged once more into the fabric of the universe.
Upon the desolate edge where the Western and Northern Domains of Luo Tian intertwined, near a forsaken cultivation star, Wang Lin materialized in a flash. His countenance was devoid of color, a testament to the grievous wounds he had sustained and the desperate flight from his pursuers. The prolonged communion with the heavens had only deepened his injuries. With a fleeting glance, he confirmed that his tormentors had been cast astray and released a breath of weary relief.

“The Yao Clan will surely have set their machinations in motion. From this day forth, my path shall be fraught with peril!” Wang Lin staggered, his steps leading him toward the ruined world.

The star was barren, devoid of spiritual energy. Ruined edifices stood as silent witnesses to a glory long past.

Within the wasteland, Wang Lin discovered a secluded basin. There, he settled upon the ground, his knees drawn up. A strike upon his storage pouch unleashed the Soul Devouring Banner, its form shifting into a swirling cloud of darkness that enveloped the surrounding area. Further, he wove a series of protective enchantments before closing his eyes to begin his restorative rites. From the phantom realm behind him, Ta Shan emerged, taking a cross-legged posture nearby. The giant’s right arm was shattered, and numerous wounds marred his form, lending him an air of weariness.

Wang Lin knew that time was a merciless adversary. He must mend his wounds with haste to restore his vitality, for in his strength lay his only chance of survival.

As he channeled his energy, Wang Lin raised his right hand, seizing a disembodied spirit from the surrounding darkness. Before the soul could utter a plea, Wang Lin crushed it, devouring its essence.

Moments later, another soul was ensnared and consumed.

He channeled the captured energy through his meridians, absorbing it into his being. After six hours and the consumption of four souls, a torrent of power surged through Wang Lin, his form radiating with renewed vigor. His eyes snapped open, revealing a cold, predatory gleam. Reaching into his robes, he produced a collection of storage pouches.

These were the spoils taken from the twenty-eight souls he had claimed in his desperate flight. Without hesitation, Wang Lin extinguished the soul-bound seals and extracted all the magical artifacts within. He shattered each one, transforming them into liquid essence, which he then infused into Ta Shan’s damaged form.

The pouches contained an array of potent magical tools, now sacrificed to mend the wounds of his guardian.

Two days passed. Ta Shan’s bones mended, and though still weakened, he was no longer in dire straits.

A killing intent flared in Wang Lin’s eyes as he rose to his feet, Ta Shan following close behind, his form dissolving into a spectral presence at Wang Lin’s back.

As he ascended, Wang Lin plunged his right hand downward. The swirling darkness of the Soul Devouring Banner coalesced, forming a ten-foot banner in his grasp. With a snap, he secured it within his storage pouch.

At that moment, upon the edge of the ravaged star where Wang Lin had sought refuge, the ethereal form of Yao Bingyun materialized. Her expression was glacial, her gaze fixed. In her hand, she held a small mirror, its surface reflecting the image of Wang Lin leaping skyward.

Her face remained impassive as she raised a slender, ivory finger, poised to touch the mirror’s surface. But before her touch could connect, the mirror shattered, bursting into fragments.

A wave of murderous intent erupted from the heart of the forsaken star. At its center was Wang Lin, a living blade unleashed.

He charged forth, wreathed in crackling orbs of violet lightning that filled the air with thunderous roars, propelling him with blinding speed.

In the blink of an eye, he emerged from the desolate world, hurtling towards Yao Bingyun.

Her demeanor remained undisturbed. She fixed her cold gaze upon the rapidly approaching Wang Lin, raising her delicate hand and pointing a snow-white finger. A shard of azure ice coalesced at her fingertip, radiating a frigid aura.

“Ice Shatter,” Yao Bingyun intoned softly.

With that word, a chilling wind swept through the void. The stars themselves seemed to crackle and groan under the encroaching frost. The space before Yao Bingyun’s outstretched hand froze solid, the frigid ice racing outward with terrifying speed.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed, yet he did not falter. He unleashed the full fury of his lightning spheres, sending them screaming toward the oncoming ice to meet in a cataclysmic collision.