A mere breath before his right hand could complete its purpose, his fingers poised above Yao Bingyun’s pallid brow, Wang Lin faltered. His gaze, sharp as honed steel, locked upon her face, and a grim stillness settled upon him.

“The Art of Devouring…to claim another’s Dao, twisting it to serve one’s own… But the Celestial Dao is boundless, the Grand Dao immeasurable. To open this path of endless consumption is to walk the same doomed road as Tian Yunzi!”

“Yet, without this act of absorption, true comprehension of Karma remains elusive, a mere phantom. Its very existence hangs in the balance… To devour… or to abstain!”

Rarely had Wang Lin been so torn. It was not pity for Yao Bingyun that held him back, but the profound gravity of choosing his own Dao, his own path. This step was paramount, a crucible for one’s very essence. For a cultivator’s life was a journey along the Dao, each unique, shaped by experience and insight, as mutable and varied as the world itself. “Tian Yunzi boasted of three thousand and six hundred incarnations, each a mastery of a singular Celestial Art. Nay, these were three thousand and six hundred Daos, swallowed whole and digested. Yet, for all his ravenous consumption, he never truly Ascended, never breached the Third Step! Ten thousand years he struggled! But without this devouring, the Intent of Karma would forever remain a blurred and distant thing. And how can one find their path, if the way remains unseen?”

Shadows danced across Wang Lin’s face, a battleground of resolve and doubt. His fingers, hovering above Yao Bingyun’s brow, refused to complete their task.

Time flowed like a river, uncaring. Unbeknownst to him, outside the entrance to his cavern haven on Heng Yun Mountain, day bled into night, then night into day, marking the passage of three suns. To Wang Lin, it felt as though three centuries had passed, each one etched upon his features, leaving him aged and weary.

For three days, his body remained still, a statue of indecision. Only his heart churned, a tempestuous sea of conflicting emotions threatening to engulf him.

“Dao… what is Dao?” He whispered the words, a litany repeated countless times over these three long days. A question posed to himself, a plea for guidance, his eyes clouded with deepening confusion.

“What, at its core… is Dao?” Lost in his internal quest, he failed to notice the subtle shift within. His nascent spiritual power, at first a gentle current, had gradually surged into a raging torrent, a near-apocalyptic storm swirling within his very being.

By the third day, this power threatened to breach the confines of his flesh, erupting into a visible vortex of swirling energies. Not just any energies, but a dance of black and white, Yin and Yang, intertwined yet distinct. The vortex intensified, its rotation accelerated, but Wang Lin remained oblivious, consumed entirely by his search.

Deep within, his nascent soul, once taking the form of an ancient Lightning Dragon, began a transformation. Miraculously, it reshaped itself into a perfect replica of Wang Lin’s physical form, seated in meditation, his right hand raised as though pointing towards some unseen truth, yet never quite completing the gesture.

That single gesture, frozen in time, encapsulated Wang Lin’s entire life: a quest for the Dao. As dawn painted Qing Ling Star with its first light, the mundane lives of its mortal inhabitants began anew, their simple tapestry of existence unfurling as always.

The cultivators, too, emerged from their meditative trances, drawing in the life-giving Qi of the newborn day. Yet, something was different. The Celestial Qi thrummed with an unusual vibrancy, richer and more potent than any they had known. A murmur of wonder rippled through their ranks as they sought the best vantage point for their practice.

It soon became apparent that those who faced the northeast experienced a far greater influx of Qi. Immediately, figures soared into the heavens, drawn towards the source of this celestial bounty.

To the east of Qing Ling Star lay Heng Yun Mountain. Already, a multitude of cultivators had gathered within a thousand leagues, worshipping from afar as they bathed in the overflowing Qi.

A mere few hours of cultivation here could rival days of practice elsewhere. Above Heng Yun Mountain itself, the very fabric of reality seemed to shimmer. Upon the peak, a swirling confluence of black and white Qi coalesced into a perfect Yin-Yang symbol, a pair of celestial fish locked in eternal pursuit. Against the backdrop of the azure sky, it was a vision of breathtaking power, striking deep within the soul, resonating with the very core of their being.

“What… is Dao?” At that very moment, every cultivator on Qing Ling Star, their very souls awakened, was struck by a voice, ancient and profound, echoing from the depths of their being.

It was a voice of experience, carrying the weight of a thousand lifetimes, imbued with an unwavering pursuit of truth. The majesty of the Dao reverberated through their minds, leaving them stunned, frozen in place.

He listened to his heart, and could not help but ask himself after this sentence.

“What…is Dao!”

Upon Heng Yun Mountain, the winds of change were upon Wang Lin. His dwelling crumbled to dust, swirling away on the wind, scattering to the four corners of the world.

The cave, the mountain top, were gone, leaving only Wang Lin and the unconscious Yao Bingyun. His fingers still hover above the eyebrows of Yao Bingyun…

Above them both, the black and white Yin-Yang symbol, a perfect Taiji, rotated slowly, drawing in the very essence of Qing Ling Star, causing ripples of energy to wash outwards.

From the vantage point of space, Qing Ling Star now shimmered, veiled in hues of black and white, a sight of staggering beauty and power. Any cultivator of the Blood Ancestor Realm who chanced upon this sight would be struck dumb with awe, for this phenomenon was known among the Second Step as… Dream Dao. Legend told of a mortal named Jiuzu, who dreamt a path to enlightenment, forging an ancient Celestial grade, leaving a ten thousand year Dao heart to watch heaven and earth! Wang Lin, now lost in his quest, his confusion, his search for truth, had fallen into the clutches of a dream. His very essence seemed to separate from his physical form, slowly ascending into the heavens. Yet, it was not his nascent soul that rose, for it remained within his body.

“What… is Dao?” In this ethereal state, Wang Lin felt his physical form dissolving, merging with Qing Ling Star itself, as though he *were* the planet.

Deep within a dense jungle, a monstrous serpent, thrice the height of a man, coiled around a small creature that had bounded too close. With a series of bone-jarring snaps, the serpent prepared to devour its prey, when suddenly, it shuddered.

It lifted its head, staring into the distant sky, the cold calculation in its eyes replaced by a bewildered confusion.

“This… is not the Dao…” A sigh, like the whisper of spring, brushed across its mind. The confusion faded, replaced by the familiar chilling emptiness, and the serpent swallowed its prey whole, before slithering away into the undergrowth.