It was evident that with the Celestial Emperor Qing Lin, the art of the Celestial Guardian Golems was developed later than the ancient Divine Abilities. The Guardian art sought to emulate the ancient gods, whereas the Imprisoning Divine Abilities were a means for celestials to strictly control their servants.

The two differed; the Celestial Guardian Golems prioritized the strength of their physical forms, while the Divine Abilities placed it as secondary.

Once forged, the Golems would never betray their master unless it was the spellcaster’s will to release them.

The Imprisoning Divine Abilities, in this regard, were less than perfect. All Divine Abilities lacked true permanence, for with time, and due to various other factors, they could eventually be broken.

Wang Lin was well aware of this fact. He placed the seal upon the Eight-Headed Child’s brow, causing the child to tremble violently. The boy’s Celestial Essence surged through his body, and a replica of the seal appeared even on his primordial spirit. He took a deep breath, and with a wry smile, he rose to his feet and stood respectfully to the side, whispering, “Greetings, Master.”

Wang Lin glanced at the Eight-Headed Child and spoke calmly, “Go beyond this star and arrange for the cultivators of Luo Tian to leave. As for you, remain here.”

The Eight-Headed Child quickly acknowledged the command, and with a sigh, leaped into the sky and vanished amidst the stars.

Wang Lin gazed upon the familiar lands, his eyes filled with remembrance. This was where he was born, the home where he took his first step on the path of cultivation. Here, he had left behind countless memories.

Returning after centuries of absence, a sense of melancholy washed over Wang Lin, a complex emotion he could not fully grasp.

“I wonder how many of the villagers of the past remain…” Wang Lin’s face bore a hint of forlornness. Behind him, the phantom-like figure of Ta Shan stepped forward, standing silently at Wang Lin’s back.

Wang Lin continued to gaze upon his homeland, the melancholy within him growing stronger with each passing moment.

Before long, the Eight-Headed Child descended from the heavens, his face expressionless as he stood behind Wang Lin.

In the sky, several streaks of light descended, the two leading streaks moving with extraordinary speed. In a flash, they arrived, and the lights revealed Zhou Wu Tai and Yun Que Zi.

Filled with longing, Wang Lin strode forward, his form vanishing from the spot. Only a divine sense was left behind, echoing in the minds of Zhou Wu Tai and Yun Que Zi.

“I need solitude…”

The moment the divine sense entered his mind, Zhou Wu Tai shuddered. It was subtle, yet it shook him to his core, as if he was standing before the heavens themselves. In his shock, he immediately felt a surge of respect, tinged with complex emotions.

“To think, after centuries, he has grown so terrifyingly powerful…” As a former Vermillion Bird, Zhou Wu Tai quickly suppressed his shock, sighing inwardly. He cupped his fist towards Yun Que Zi across the distance, then turned and led his group away.

Yun Que Zi’s eyes held an even deeper complexity. Wang Lin’s divine sense had equally stunned him. He recalled the child of the past, and how he had reached such unimaginable heights. With a deep sigh, he seemed to see again the youthful figure who had paid for his wine in the tavern.

The past conflicts with the Vermillion Bird, the war between the Immortal Abandoned Clan and the Vermillion Bird Country – now they seemed like fleeting clouds, utterly insignificant…

Coincidentally, both Zhou Wu Tai and Yun Que Zi sealed the news of Wang Lin’s return. Apart from the few cultivators who had awakened early, the majority were unaware that Wang Lin, once of this very star, had returned…

They did so because Wang Lin’s divine sense had conveyed a sense of melancholy; he needed peace and did not wish to be disturbed.

Several days later, on a winding road, Wang Lin gazed at the familiar scenes around him, walking slowly forward. His pace was unhurried, and a palpable solitude emanated from him. The setting sun painted the sky, stretching his shadow long behind him, its light casting a lonely aura upon Wang Lin.

From afar, Wang Lin seemed less like a youth and more like a weathered elder, a traveler returning home after years of absence.

Behind him, Ta Shan and the Eight-Headed Child followed silently. Ta Shan’s expression remained unchanged; his duty was to protect Wang Lin, and he would strike down anyone who dared to harbor ill intentions towards his master.

The Eight-Headed Child, on the other hand, was lost in silence, his heart a tangle of incomprehensible thoughts.

Wang Lin walked slowly forward, the world around him both strange and vaguely familiar. This road, in his memory, had been a narrow country lane, but now, it was a scene of shifting seas and changed faces.

As he walked, Wang Lin’s melancholy deepened. In the distance, he faintly made out the end of the road.

There, a massive city loomed, its sounds of bustling life filling the air. Above the city gates, a city plaque with gold lettering on a purple background stood proudly, bearing three grand characters:

Imperial City!

Gazing at the city from afar, Wang Lin stopped, staring in a daze. Scenes of his home from long ago flashed before his eyes, the smiles and voices of his parents occupying his every thought.

“Changed…” A shadow of grief crossed Wang Lin’s face. The city before him had shattered everything that he remembered.

The sounds of hooves and wheels grinding against the earth echoed behind Wang Lin as he stood in silence. The ground trembled slightly, and soon, a caravan of carriages approached slowly.

It was an ordinary caravan. A few riders raced ahead, clearing the path, followed by several carriages. At the front of the lead carriage sat a white-haired old man, his temples bulging, his eyes like lightning. Clearly, he was a master of martial arts.

The old man occasionally raised his whip, cracking it sharply to increase the speed of the horses.

As they passed Wang Lin, the old man turned his head seemingly casually, glanced at the three figures, then looked away and drove on.

Wang Lin’s face was a mask of complex emotions. Behind the carriage, he walked slowly towards the city. Gate guards were charged with checking travel permits, without which entry would be denied.
The affair, of course, escaped Wang Lin’s notice. He moved as a wraith amongst the city’s garrison, none able to perceive his passing. Within the city walls, a boisterous throng pressed through streets lined with shops of every description, a cacophony of trade and chatter filling the air.

A solitary figure, Wang Lin drifted through the scene, each sight unfamiliar, utterly alien.

“Everything… has changed,” he murmured, halting before a merchant’s stall, a ghostly image superimposed upon the present.

He remembered a time when a venerable locust tree stood upon this very spot, its roots embracing a smooth, gray stone. As a boy, he’d often sat beneath its boughs, poring over dusty tomes.

He recalled, too, the day his uncle, the one who kindled within him the first spark of hope for immortality, had revealed that path. He’d been seated upon that very stone, gazing at the boundless azure sky, lost in contemplation.

Then, he’d longed to know what lay beyond the horizon, beyond the confines of his small world.

Now, regarding the shop before him, Wang Lin was consumed by a profound silence. Centuries had passed, a mere blink for one who trod the path of cultivation, but for mortals, an age of vast and sweeping change.

Perhaps his lingering caught the shopkeeper’s eye. A young man emerged, a frown etched upon his face, ready to deliver a sharp rebuke. But his words died in his throat as he beheld the towering form of Tasan, Wang Lin’s hulking protector. Such a giant was a rare sight indeed. His gaze flickered, and he spied the unsettling figure of the Big-Headed Child.

The child’s countenance was bizarre, almost terrifying. A single glance was enough to drain the color from the shopkeeper’s face. He stumbled back, forcing a measure of composure as he addressed Wang Lin. “Good sir,” he stammered, “we deal in jade and precious stones. If you wish to purchase, step inside. If not, then be on your way. There’s no profit to be made in lingering outside.”

Wang Lin sighed, a whisper of sorrow in his voice. “Young man, tell me, did a great locust tree once stand upon this spot?”

The shopkeeper hesitated, but the sight of Tasan and the Big-Headed Child quelled any desire for defiance. “A locust tree? I’ve lived my entire life within the walls of the Imperial Ancestral City, and I’ve never seen such a thing.”

Disappointment deepened the lines around Wang Lin’s eyes. With a weary turn, he moved into the heart of the city, Tasan and the Big-Headed Child following in his wake.

The shopkeeper scoffed and retreated into his shop. As he did, an old man, leaning heavily upon a dragon-headed cane and supported by a servant boy, emerged from the back. His voice, raspy with age, rasped, “What troubles you out front, boy?”

The shopkeeper rushed to his master’s side. “Nothing of import, sir. Just some strange folk asking about an old locust tree. I told them I’d never seen one. They must have mistaken the place.”

The old man paused, his dim eyes clouded with distant memories. He spoke softly, “I seem to recall, in my youth, hearing tales from my elders. They said that long ago, a great locust tree did stand there. A very long time ago.”

The shopkeeper shrugged it off, paying no mind to the old man’s recollections.

As Wang Lin journeyed deeper into the city, the landscape offered no familiar solace, only the stark reality of his isolation. A deep ache settled in his heart, a heavy weight of unspoken emotions.

Then, with sudden and startling clarity, Wang Lin froze. The millennia he had dedicated to the path of cultivation seemed suddenly fragile, crumbling before him.

He was like an old man, returning to a home he had not seen in a lifetime, his heart overwhelmed by the unexpected glimpse of something known, something loved.

Wang Lin’s gaze was fixed on a place enclosed by a high stone wall, guarded by ranks of soldiers in shining armor. It was a protected sanctuary, forbidden to all but a select few.

And beyond the soldiers, he sensed the presence of many cultivators, their power radiating from within the walls.

Clearly, this was the most important site within the Imperial Ancestral City!

Within the wall, a scene unfolded that stood apart from the rest of the city. Several houses stood preserved in a style that stirred deep recognition within Wang Lin. Before these houses stood a newly raised grave.

The soldiers who patrolled the outer walls occasionally cast reverent glances inside.