From the inky void, the grotesque, cherubic imp, known only as the “Big-Headed Child,” spied the distant husk of a cultivation planet. Through his recent forays into the Star-City Alliance, he recognized it for what it was: a Sixth-Order realm, a trifle beneath his notice.

His own power was far beyond such paltry worlds, and he was followed by hundreds of cultivators from the celestial Rotian domain. His presence here was merely a fleeting detour. His true purpose was far grander: to be the vanguard, the first wave of Rotian warriors to breach the Southern Territories of the Alliance and chart its weaknesses.

As they drew near, a crone on the world below, dubbed Vermillion Bird Star, paled, and with a wordless shriek, retreated. Around her, other cultivators, cloaked in the shimmering aura of their swords, followed suit, fleeing back to the surface.

The Big-Headed Child erupted in a fit of childish glee, his already exaggerated features contorting into a mask of foolish delight. Behind him, his Rotian cohorts echoed his mirth. In their eyes, this world was a joke, a pathetic speck of dust! A single Yin Void cultivator could lay waste to its entirety.

“My lord emissary,” a man called out, stepping forth from the ranks of the Rotian legion. He was a middle-aged warrior, his cultivation not yet at the Yin Void stage, but at the peak of the Ascendant Realm. Yet, he addressed the Child with unsettling reverence. “Permit my brother and I to claim this world in your name!”

Beside him stood a figure who shared his features.

The Big-Headed Child cast a dismissive glance at Vermillion Bird Star. Destroying it was child’s play. “You have the span of a joss stick,” he declared. “Slaughter every last cultivator on that world!”

The brothers roared with laughter. “Emissary, a joss stick is far too long! Half an hour will suffice!” With a predatory grin, one of the brothers launched himself toward the planet, a roaring comet of dark energy. His brother followed close behind, their intent murderous. In a blink, they had pierced Vermillion Bird Star’s protective barrier of celestial winds and descended upon its surface.

Upon the peak of Vermillion Bird Mountain stood Zhou Wutai, his eyes burning with a fierce inner light. A tide of power surged within him, before him floated a slender sword of polished steel. His stance was firm.

Behind him stood a silent company of cultivators. A few Wang Lin had once known, now strengthened and tempered by centuries of strife. The crone, Bai Xue, now an Elder of the Immortal Dao, was among them, her form shimmering with sword energy. Vermillion Bird Star was her home, and she would defend it or die.

A figure stood further back, a venerable old man with a yellow robe, his back bearing a sheathed blade. His position denoted his lack of standing among the defenders, yet a flicker of something mischievous danced within his eyes. It was Huang Long Zhenren, the former sect leader of Heng Yue.

“When Wang Lin bequeathed the title of Vermillion Bird to me, Zhou Wutai, I vowed to stand with this world until my very end,” Zhou Wutai declared, his voice ringing with conviction. “Today, the enemy is upon us. I shall not yield a single step, even if it means my own destruction!”

Two other Ascendant cultivators stood behind him, both of them elderly. Escape was impossible. This was not a mere skirmish, but a war between star domains. A conflict revealed by the Alliance.

Across the world, Yun Quezi, the Cloud Sparrow, emerged from centuries of seclusion, his face gaunt, and ancient runes flickering upon his brow. He stood in the air, gazing towards the encroaching threat.

Behind him gathered the Xian Yi, the Immortal Remnants, their faces grim.

From every corner of Vermillion Bird Star, reclusive cultivators emerged from their hidden sanctuaries, a tide of despair washing over the land. It was as if mountains were falling from the sky, threatening to crush all resistance.

In the depths of Cloud Heaven Sect, Sun Tai, withered and frail, clung to life, his eyes dimming with the approach of death. He stood within the sect’s courtyard, staring mutely at the sky.

Every soul on Vermillion Bird Star looked skyward as two streaks of fire heralded doom.

The Rotian brothers burst into boisterous laughter. Their confidence was not without merit. At the pinnacle of the Ascendant Realm, they were among the strongest beings on Vermillion Bird Star.

“Such a derelict world dares to harbor so many cultivators?” one brother mocked, unleashing a torrent of spiritual power across the star. “If this were Rotian, no one would bother claiming it. The Star-City Alliance is even more pathetic than we imagined!”

At that moment, the mighty defenders of Vermillion Bird Star—Zhou Wutai, Yun Quezi, and the other Ascendants—rose to meet the invaders.

(The story continues…)
But even as these thoughts took shape, the Divine Sense of the celestial emissary, unfurling across the land, brushed against the Cloud Sky Sect. In that instant, he was struck as if by a thunderbolt, a cacophony of a thousand storms erupting in his ears. The force of it nearly toppled him, his eyes bulging in disbelief, a primal fear seizing his very soul.

“This… this… it cannot be….”

For there, at the gates of the Cloud Sky Sect, stood a monument of colossal scale, a statue carved with uncanny likeness to Wang Lin himself. The artist had captured every detail, every nuance of his being, etching his very essence into the stone.

And most chilling of all was the cold fire in the eyes, a frigid intensity that seemed to pierce the soul.

His brother, witnessing this sudden transformation, cautiously extended his own Divine Sense, focusing it upon the statue. He, too, reeled back, his horror tenfold, a hundredfold greater than his kin.

“The… the Demon Lord Xu Mu!”

A cold dread gripped them both, their hearts pounding in a frantic rhythm. They exchanged frantic glances, each seeing the reflection of their own terror in the other’s eyes. The name of the Demon Lord Xu Mu echoed with terrible weight throughout the celestial realms.

He was the victor of the Sealed Immortal campaign, the bearer of the authentic Thunder Immortal, commanding the allegiance of three thousand cultivators. Such power, such renown, was not to be trifled with. Not even their ancestral elders would dare to stand before him without due reverence.

Even the great-headed child, the celestial envoy leading their expedition, would surely tremble before such might.

Despair clawed at their hearts. Their arrogant bluster vanished, replaced by a desperate instinct for survival. Without a word, they turned and fled, abandoning their mission in a headlong rush.

For the words ‘Demon Lord Xu Mu’ represented only one thing: death, a bloody and merciless death. To cross him was to invite annihilation.

The disciple of the Clear Water Immortal, the authentic Thunder Immortal, the foremost of the younger generation in the celestial domain, the beneficiary of countless grateful families, the bane of the Yao Clan – any one of these titles would be enough to condemn them a thousand times over.

Even the slightest hesitation was unthinkable. Their only thought was escape. The statue was undeniably him, Xu Mu himself.

No amount of courage could compel them to confront him. They did not wish to know why his likeness stood there, venerated by these mortals. All they felt was a bone-deep regret. Had they known, they would have never dared to interfere. To offend Xu Mu was to invite their own doom.

Their sudden flight astonished the cultivators of Vermilion Bird Star, particularly Zhou Wutai and his allies, who had prepared for a bloody battle. This unexpected turn left them utterly bewildered.

Even the remnants of the Immortal Relic clan were taken aback. Only Yun Quezi, his eyes narrowed, gazed intently towards the Cloud Sky Sect. He was among the oldest of the Vermilion Bird’s inhabitants, his cultivation significantly advanced during his years of seclusion. He had observed that the celestial emissaries’ breakdown occurred precisely when their Divine Sense focused upon the Cloud Sky Sect.

“What is it about the Cloud Sky Sect,” he wondered, “that could frighten away two ascendant cultivators? They fled as if pursued by demons!”

He focused his own Divine Sense, lingering upon the colossal statue of Wang Lin.

“Could it be…?” Yun Quezi’s eyes widened, struggling to comprehend the possibility.

Zhou Wutai and the other ancient ones shared the same realization. These were not fools; they quickly discerned the truth. One by one, their Divine Senses converged, all focusing on the Cloud Sky Sect.

Sun Tai gazed at the statue of Wang Lin, his eyes filled with renewed hope. “It must be him,” he murmured, “our benefactor!”

The celestial brothers, meanwhile, had emerged from the atmosphere of Vermilion Bird, and came upon the great-headed child, and his following.

The great-headed child opened his eyes and scowled, asking “What is the meaning of this?”