Beneath the vast canvas of heavens, Wang Lin walked, his thoughts a swirling vortex. With a moment’s contemplation, the truth regarding the subservience of the Chong Que bird unraveled itself. Zhou Wu Tai, the Vermillion Bird, surely played a pivotal role in this matter.

Indeed, as Wang Lin suspected, Zhou Wu Tai, the broad-eared cultivator, harbored immense gratitude towards Wang Lin for bestowing upon him the Vermillion Bird’s legacy. Wang Lin’s departure, however, had left him with no means of repayment.

Zhou Wu Tai was a man of distinct gratitude and resentment, and Wang Lin’s kindness was etched in his memory.

Thus, the descendants of the Wang family, the cultivation sect established by Wang Lin, and even the kingdom of Zhao, flourished under Zhou Wu Tai’s watchful care.

As the newly appointed Vermillion Bird of the Vermillion Bird Star, Zhou Wu Tai easily bestowed upon the Wang family a stroke of fortune, elevating them to unparalleled status amongst mortals. Furthermore, with his aid, the kingdom of Zhao gradually ascended, ultimately reaching the fifth level of cultivation nations.

Naturally, the knowledge of Wang Lin’s influence spread, along with tales of his deeds within the Vermillion Bird’s Tomb. As time elapsed and Zhou Wu Tai reflected, Wang Lin’s reputation as the guardian and progenitor of the Vermillion Bird Star was quietly embraced by all cultivators.

Zhou Wu Tai’s motivations ran deeper than mere repayment. At the time, his cultivation had not yet reached its zenith, rendering him the weakest of the Vermillion Birds and incapable of commanding respect. By exalting the already departed Wang Lin, he amplified his own authority.

While Wang Lin did not grasp the entirety of the situation, his keen perception allowed him to decipher at least half of it. He sighed inwardly, recognizing that regardless of Zhou Wu Tai’s true intentions, the deeds he had performed warranted a recompense.

As he flew onward, Ta Shan and the Large-Headed Boy followed closely behind. Ta Shan maintained his usual icy demeanor, while the Large-Headed Boy’s heart was a tempest of conflicting emotions upon seeing Wang Lin’s return to his homeland. He observed the genuine reverence with which the cultivators regarded Xu Mu and imagined a stark contrast upon his own return to his family. While he would undoubtedly receive respect due to his cultivation, it would be hollow and dictated by circumstance.

In the distance, a sprawling city emerged, resembling a coiled dragon, exuding an aura of opulence. The city walls were constructed from dark stones, imbued with the subtle pulse of protective enchantments.

Even before drawing near, Wang Lin discerned the intricate network of formidable barriers and formations within the city. If activated in their entirety, these defenses would pose a significant threat even to those who had reached the pinnacle of cultivation.

This city, a realm unto itself, stood as the sole mortal empire within the borders of the Vermillion Bird Kingdom, aside from the territory occupied by the Immortal Relic Tribe.

The Great Dynasty!

Established four hundred and thirty-seven years ago, it had become the most powerful mortal force on the Vermillion Bird Star, second only to the select tribes of the Immortal Relic Tribe.

The royal family, the Wang lineage, possessed a history extending far into the mists of time. Over four centuries of consolidation, the dynasty had amassed a formidable army, attracting countless martial artists and, most significantly, a legion of cultivators!

Furthermore, various cultivation sects, primarily the Cloud Sky Sect and those from the kingdom of Zhao, served as the dynasty’s protectors. Members of the Wang family enjoyed unparalleled prestige.

Wang Lin’s divine sense blanketed the entirety of the Vermillion Bird Star, faintly sensing a connection through his own bloodline. This had led him here, to this capital city, where the Wang bloodline was most concentrated.

His divine sense swept through the city, yet he could not locate Wang Zhuo. With a sigh, he vanished from his spot, reappearing within the heart of the royal city. As he gazed upon the bustling crowds and extravagant structures, a frown etched its way upon his face.

The entire capital city of this dynasty was excessively lavish. The ground was paved with precious blue-green stones, a sight that stretched across every street.

If that were all, it might be tolerable, but even the trees were draped in silken cloths, a display of extravagance that, in reality, squandered fortune.

Having reached Wang Lin’s level of cultivation, he could perceive subtleties invisible to others. The atmosphere above the city was saturated with lamentation, sorrow, anger, and fear, a cacophony of emotions that could unhinge the mind.

Prolonged exposure to this environment would invariably lead to erratic behavior, unpredictable moods, and a shortened lifespan.

These sensations were all manifestations of resentment. Wang Lin had once employed individuals on the Azure Spirit Star to collect resentment, and now, witnessing the city’s skies choked with it, his frown deepened.

As his divine sense expanded, he discovered varying degrees of resentment permeating the other cities of the Vermillion Bird Star. The source of this resentment was pervasive, blanketing half the Vermillion Bird Star.

From humble villages to the dwellings of common folk, the resentment seeped forth, converging upon the cities and lingering indefinitely.

The northwestern region, a barren wasteland of crimson earth and countless corpses, emanated an especially potent wave of resentment. If the other cities were merely saturated with resentment, the capital city’s atmosphere was so thick that it formed a miasmic flame, piercing the heavens.

Only those with a cultivation base as profound as Wang Lin’s, and with focused attention, could detect such a thing. Those of lesser ability would remain oblivious.

“Absurd,” Wang Lin muttered, his face darkening as he walked through the city’s streets. He relished in the prosperity of his lineage, but not when such prosperity brought ruin upon the land, choking the heavens with resentment. Under such circumstances, the Wang family would suffer dire consequences, rendering their wealth worthless!

Suddenly, the sound of thundering hooves echoed through the street. The pedestrians ahead scattered in panic, and Wang Lin retreated a few steps, his eyes narrowed as he watched the commotion.

Several elegant horses galloped forward, carrying youthful figures adorned in fine garments. They were followed by a throng of attendants, all walking on foot, yet maintaining a pace swift enough to keep up with the horses.

The young men on horseback were all elegantly dressed, the leader especially handsome. However, beneath his sharp eyebrows and bright eyes, a dark miasma lingered on his face. Even cultivators who had reached the pinnacle of cultivation would have difficulty in detecting this miasma, but to Wang Lin, it was as clear as day.
Two streaks of celestial light whistled through the heavens, each bearing a cultivator clad in azure robes. Their cultivation, though nascent, was enough to clear a path for the richly adorned youth below.

Yet, such pomp and circumstance would have been mere cause for a raised eyebrow. It was the sight trailing behind the youth that furrowed Wang Lin’s brow. Bound by thick iron chains, a figure was dragged in the youth’s wake. Covered in grime and hair obscuring his features, the figure, clearly male, was being hauled mercilessly along the cobbled streets. Ripped garments revealed wounds that bled freely, leaving a crimson trail in the dust, as if a vengeful artist had dipped their brush in vermillion and painted a ghastly stroke across the land.

With whoops of cruel laughter echoing through the air, the entourage swept past. A gaggle of martial artists, eager for favor, followed close behind. The celestial riders paid them no heed.

Hardly had the first group vanished when a contingent of soldiers arrived, scrubbing at the bloodstains with practiced efficiency, their grim task to erase the brutal tapestry of the procession.

Only when the last soldier had passed did the assembled onlookers dare to murmur.

“Alas, such wickedness!” sighed one weathered face. “Who has so displeased the Sixteenth Prince? He will be dragged through the city, I wager, until his very life is extinguished.”

“Indeed,” croaked another. “Within the Great Dynasty, the Imperial Family *is* the heavens. Even the immortals serve their whims. Who would dare to defy them?”

“Hush, brother!” hissed a third, clutching the sleeve of the first speaker. “Did you not hear of the Royal Astrologer, who, months past, divined ill omens from the northwest? He declared a cleansing, and the Emperor ordered the slaughter of hundreds of thousands of innocents. It is said the northwest still reeks of death.”

“Speak no more of it, Li. Silence is your armor now, lest words become daggers.”

Wang Lin’s face darkened. He recognized the youth in finery. A trace of the Wang lineage ran in his veins.

“Ta Shan,” Wang Lin spoke, his voice a low rumble of suppressed fury, “bring me the whelp.”

Without a word, Ta Shan moved. One moment he stood beside Wang Lin, the next he was gone, a wraith swallowed by the shadows. Swiftly, he returned, a struggling form dangling from his grasp – the gilded youth himself.

Terror bloomed in the youth’s eyes. He spat and cursed, his voice a shrill shriek. “Release me, you cur! Do you know who I am? I am of the Wang clan! What sect dares to interfere?!”

Ta Shan, his face an impassive mask of granite, strode toward Wang Lin and flung the youth to the ground like a discarded rag.

A collective gasp rippled through the thinning crowd. As one, they recoiled, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and morbid fascination. They knew this was dangerous ground.

The youth, his finery now stained with dust, scrambled to his feet. Despite the tremor in his limbs, defiance blazed in his eyes. “I am of the Wang clan,” he snarled, “and you shall pay dearly for this insult! Be you from the most powerful sect in the land, you are doomed!”

Wang Lin’s gaze was as cold as the northern winds. He saw it then, a miasma of darkness swirling around the youth, a venomous aura that coalesced into the shape of a serpent, its forked tongue flickering, hissing silently at Ta Shan.

Most would mistake it for mere fury, a palpable wave of malevolence emanating from the enraged youth. Only those who had trod beyond the threshold of mortal comprehension would recognize the malignant energy for what it truly was.

As if answering the serpent’s silent call, the sounds of approaching hooves and angry shouts shattered the tense silence. The very soldiers and martial artists who had passed but moments ago were now charging back, their faces contorted in rage. The celestial riders, their swords glinting in the fading light, led the charge.

“Seize the rebels!” cried a voice, piercing the air. One of the mounted men, his face flushed crimson, bellowed, “Traitors! Protect the Prince!”

The two streaks of celestial light descended first, aimed directly at Ta Shan. The cultivators within were forced to attack, for they were mortified; how could they be so unaware? They noticed the prince was missing! When they raced back in search, they were horrified to see Ta Shan had thrown the prince onto the ground! They were disciples of the Yun Tian Sect, assigned to protect the Wang family royal. If something was to happen to the prince, they would be punished severly by their sect.

They lunged, the light of their swords flashing, aimed at Ta Shan.