The air crackled with crimson sorcery. Four crimson-clad youths, devoid of warmth, stood as sentinels. Emotionless as golems, they dispersed with unnatural precision, forming a quadrangle around the moon-beast, now a trapped celestial sphere.

They settled into lotus positions, and above each, a pulsing ruby orb materialized – crimson ichor coalesced. Veins of scarlet energy linked the bloodstones, weaving a cage of sanguine lightning around the wailing moon.

Within the vast array, a venerable figure in scarlet robes, of the House of Xiang, strode forth. His eyes, cold as glacial ice, glittered with a hunter’s lust. A palpable aura of death radiated from him, fixed upon the trapped beast.

“Xiang Daoyou brings forth the Sacred Four,” boomed Yan Leizi, his gaze flickering over the youths. “This hunt is blessed! And Gongsun Daoyou, whom else have you drawn into this grand endeavor?”

A cloaked figure, Gongsun by name, answered in measured tones, “The Ancestor Shen Gong and the Liefire of the Zhan Clan.”

“I have sought but a few,” the Xiang elder chuckled, moving to Yan Leizi’s side. “The Blood God and the Iridescent Sage will soon grace us with their presence.”

Yan Leizi, hearing of the Blood God, merely scoffed inwardly. “I have but one trump card, and its reveal shall be a feast for the eyes.”

As he spoke, a silver streak tore through the void. Atop it stood a man, middle-aged, bearing a marked resemblance to Shen Gong Hu. He landed, offering a curt bow, then turned his attention to the moon-beast, his face an inscrutable mask. A halo of silver energy spiraled about him, a breathtaking display of power.

The firmament shuddered as a colossal ark emerged, draped in the vibrant colors of a thousand sunsets. On its decks, maidens in iridescent garb danced with ethereal grace. A booming laugh echoed, and from the ark leaped an elder clad in rainbow silks, landing beside the others.

“Forgive my tardiness, fellow Daoyou,” the Iridescent Sage purred, his face a mask of ageless youth. “I happened upon some exquisite vessels, and time slipped away.” A miasma of seductive, unholy energy emanated from him.

“Ah, vessels worthy of the Iridescent Sage must be of rare quality indeed,” the Xiang elder chuckled.

“If you are pleased, Xiang Daoyou, a gift shall be yours when the moon-beast is bound,” the Sage replied, his gaze sweeping over the assembled powerhouses. The air thrummed with their collective ambition to claim the beast.

Amidst the banter, Ancestor Shen Gong remained fixated on the moon-beast, lost in silent contemplation. Gongsun, the cloaked man, uttered no word.

Yan Leizi, however, held himself aloof. The Iridescent Sage’s power was considerable, but he did not inspire fear.

At that moment, a figure materialized from the starlit void. He was a youth in white, yet possessed an ancient weariness that aged him beyond measure.

He walked, unadorned by arcane devices, his steps measured and deliberate. Approaching the circle, he offered a shallow bow but spoke no words. “Liefire of the Zhan Clan,” Yan Leizi observed. The white-clad youth nodded, taking his place in silence.

“Rumor paints the Liefire of the Zhan Clan as a volatile soul. He laid waste to thirteen cultivation clans in his rage,” Yan Leizi mused. “His temper is legend.” He paused, turning his gaze to the horizon.

A tide of crimson light surged forth, accompanied by the stench of fresh blood. The light coalesced into a figure a mere ten paces away.

It was an elder with a ruby pate and crimson brows, clad in gore-soaked vestments. His gaze, dark as a bottomless pit, fell upon the moon-beast, and a strange glint appeared in his eyes.

“The Blood God!” The assembled elders held their breath, their gazes locked upon the figure, even the Liefire and Ancestor Shen Gong.

The Blood God, dismissing all but Yan Leizi, spoke, his voice a low growl. “Yan Leizi, you stole the soul of my grandson. When the gates between realms open, we shall settle this.” Yan Leizi grinned, a glint of steel in his eyes. “I await the challenge.”

Meanwhile, in the northern territories of the Luo Heaven, lightning flared. The Thunder Immortal Hall had mobilized its forces. Each of the Hall’s emissaries, riding bolts of pure lightning, took up position in a ring sixty thousand miles from the moon-beast.

They chanted ancient oaths, weaving arcane bonds with each other, summoning a tempest that enveloped the moon within a cage of thunder. Beyond this ring, crimson and obsidian-clad cultivators formed two more lines, an impenetrable barrier. Unbeknownst to them, Wang Lin was consumed by a growing resonance within his soul, a siren song that shook his very being.

Clinging to the great cauldron, Wang Lin hurtled through the narrow passage. The summons grew stronger with each passing moment, threatening to tear him apart. *Come… come…*

Wang Lin pressed onward, faster, faster, until, at last, his soul erupted in a deafening chorus. There, before him, was the object of the call.

His heart lurched. His eyes widened in horror. Dozens of writhing tendrils wrapped themselves around a child, a helpless infant.
Within the cavernous depths, a babe of colossal proportions lay coiled, its form easily dwarfing a score of leagues. Though its eyes remained sealed in slumber, a tangible vitality poured from its being, drawn forth by tendrils that snaked towards the monstrous moon, Wangyue.

Eight shimmering star-points flickered ethereally about the babe, each swirling yet none fully solidified. This celestial dance generated a strange energy, likewise siphoned away by the grasping tentacles. Wang Lin gasped, a primal awe seizing his very core. “A nascent Ancient God!” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. The memories bequeathed by Tu Si flooded his mind. The unfixed star-points, he knew, could signify two things.

Firstly, the babe’s sire could be an eight-starred Ancient God, whose power had been imprinted upon its offspring.

The second possibility, however, was far more chilling. A frigid dread seeped into Wang Lin’s heart as he considered it. This babe might not be nascent at all, but a fully formed eight-starred Ancient God, brought low by grievous wounds or an unimaginable cataclysm. Its god-like power had regressed, its adult form slowly reverting to that of an infant.

“If the latter is true, where has its power gone?” Wang Lin’s brow furrowed. He scanned the chamber, his gaze lingering on the hundred or more grasping tendrils. A terrifying thought blossomed in his mind. “Could Wangyue’s transformation be linked to this? Has the moon devoured an Ancient God, thus gaining such monstrous abilities?” Wang Lin slowly retreated.

Yet, an inexplicable sorrow washed over him, a profound grief emanating from his very soul. This anguish, drawn from his spiritual kin, permeated his being, cloaking him in melancholy.

“My kin…” A faint, mournful voice echoed within Wang Lin’s mind, a sound crafted of the ancient tongue of the Gods, its timbre aged with countless eons. Its weight was enough to instantly age a mortal to dust. Wang Lin’s eyes snapped towards the babe, now practically consumed by the grasping tendrils. “My time… grows short… There is a faint echo of my blood within your soul… Send a true scion of our race to receive my final legacy…”

Wang Lin reeled, his voice hushed with awe and fear. “Are you a nascent god, or a diminished elder?”

“I am…” The ancient voice began, but before it could complete its answer, the tendrils seized upon the babe with renewed ferocity, a ravenous frenzy consuming them.

Bulging protrusions surged along their length as they transmitted their stolen bounty to Wangyue. The babe was not alone; all around, the tendrils pulsed and throbbed. The weaker among those ensnared burst apart, their life force utterly drained.

This abrupt metamorphosis sent a chill down Wang Lin’s spine. Without hesitation, he retreated into the great cauldron, weaving his fingers in a complex pattern. A dense mist billowed within, shrouding him from sight.

This violent shift was not isolated. Throughout the length of the winding tunnels, all tendrils writhed with a maddened hunger.

Corpses withered and crumbled as their final vestiges of life were ripped away by Wangyue’s grasping limbs.

Simultaneously, the chamber shuddered violently, as if the world outside had undergone some unimaginable cataclysm. As the tremors intensified, a series of guttural roars echoed from the depths of Wangyue’s monstrous form.

Outside the swirling vortex, the smaller Wangyue beasts, previously prostrate, now launched into the air, their visages twisted in savage glee. Screeching, they surged outward! In that moment, the entire inner realm of Wangyue erupted with the cries of these smaller beings, a vast multitude led by eight behemoths, each ten thousand leagues in size. They descended upon the celestial bodies surrounding Wangyue, unleashing a battle the likes of which even the Four Great Star Domains of the Wind, Rain, Thunder, and Lightning Celestial Realms rarely witnessed!