“What ‘Slay-Wait-For-None?'” the elder rasped, his eyes like chips of obsidian. “Xu Mu, dost thou take me for a babe of three winters? A name plucked from thin air, let alone this fabricated ‘Domain of Slaughter’!”

Wang Lin remained impassive, his gaze fixed on the figure of Yan Lei Zi.

The ice in Yan Lei Zi’s expression began to thaw. “The Cultivation Alliance does indeed possess a Domain of Slaughter, and there are whispers of two Servants, Soul and Slaughter. But how canst thou prove that this ‘Slay-Wait-For-None’ met his end at thy hand?” At these words, the elder beside him fell silent.

Wang Lin, his face a mask, reached into his storage pouch. There emerged a broken limb of the Heaven-Earth Lightning Tree, arcs of raw power still dancing upon its fractured surface. He cast it forth, directly towards Yan Lei Zi.

With a crack of thunder, the splintered branch hurtled towards Yan Lei Zi, who caught it in his right hand. He scrutinized it, recognizing it at once as a relic of the Domain of Slaughter, a treasure of considerable power. His senses immediately detected the clash of two forces within, one undeniably emanating from Wang Lin, the other… a tide of murderous aura! “Indeed,” Yan Lei Zi declared, “the sword-qi of a Deputy Lord of the Domain of Slaughter!” His eyes, when they met Wang Lin’s, held a glint of respect.

He tossed the lightning-charged fragment back to Wang Lin. “Well met, Xu Mu. Rest and recover here. In a month, when reinforcements arrive from Luo Tian, thou shalt march with the vanguard into the northern territories of the Alliance!”

Wang Lin bowed low, his expression one of deference. Yan Lei Zi, with a knowing glance towards the distant figure of Bighead Child, laughed heartily and strode into the void, the elder hurrying in his wake. They vanished into the starry expanse.

Wang Lin’s face remained serene, though a weight lifted from his heart. He had come to the western borders of the Alliance with a purpose, a gamble he’d undertaken during the battle with Slay-Wait-For-None: to acquire the broken Heaven-Earth Lightning Tree and use it to gain trust.

In the cold void, the amicable facade vanished from Yan Lei Zi’s face, replaced by an unreadable neutrality. The elder, sensing the shift, spoke, “Lord, I believe this Xu Mu speaks with forked tongue! Furthermore, Bighead Child is one of the Heavenly Fiends, yet he is clearly bound to Xu Mu! It seems to me…”

Yan Lei Zi turned, his gaze a glacial blade. The elder flinched, the rest of his words frozen in his throat. Yan Lei Zi continued his march into the cosmos.

“This Xu Mu… is not as he seems. I perceive four distinct powers swirling within his brow, yet I can only discern one. And that, I suspect, is the weakest amongst them!” Yan Lei Zi mused, his voice barely a whisper.

The visible power stayed Yan Lei Zi’s hand from acting upon an earlier suspicion. He sighed inwardly, recognizing the familiar signature. It was the mark of a Vermillion Bird.

Only those of his stature could perceive such a subtle brand.

“Before returning to the Alliance, Xu Mu bore none of these peculiarities. It was after his absence that these changes manifested… the Vermillion Bird… I owe a debt to one from that lineage. So be it!” Yan Lei Zi shook his head, vanishing from the spot with his companion.

The news of Xu Mu’s return spread like wildfire, for his name was well-known in Luo Tian. Almost every Luo Tian cultivator was aware: Xu Mu had returned.

Amongst those troubled by the news was Xu Ting. After a moment of grim contemplation, he led a small team of cultivators forth to scout ahead, seeking a Cultivation Star upon which to vent his pent-up rage.

As for Wang Lin, he found himself on the Savage Star, now gripped by a relentless rainy season. The downpour shrouded half the planet, obscuring the land in a swirling mist. The world seemed fractured, rent asunder by the endless rain. Even light appeared distorted, unable to penetrate the watery veil.

The dust of the land had dissolved, mingling with the rain to carve channels into the earth. Grains of sand were swept away by the torrent.

Upon the flora, leaves were lashed by the rain, each drop echoing like a tiny drumbeat. Water cascaded from the edges of the foliage, gathering into shimmering threads that fell like liquid silver.

The beasts of the wilds sought shelter from the deluge, while only a few water-loving creatures reveled in the endless rain.

Amidst the mist, Wang Lin’s mountain stood tall. At its peak, Bighead Child stared blankly at the endless downpour, lost in thought.

The mountain’s protective enchantments did not impede the rain, so the summit was drenched like the rest of the land. Gazing at the water, Bighead Child’s thoughts drifted back to his childhood, to the times he’d stood in the rain, lost in similar contemplation. He remembered the night his family cast him out, a rainy night like this. He had been pushed out into the mud, and he still remembers that night he smiled. His smile was twisted with sadness.

He knew how ugly he was, so he would face all with a smile so they would not hate him. Even when his mother would scold and hit him. It was with a smile he would face his cousins.

Despite it all, nothing changed, and he was thrown away. In the rain, his smile vanished. Lost he stumbled into the night.

His body was small. The sky rumbled with thunder and he was nearly blown away.

Bighead Child looked at the scar on his head, then turned to look at Ta Shan and Lei Ji. He glanced at Wang Lin, and a warmth spread through him.
The image was forever burned into his mind, a scene he could never exorcise. Moments before oblivion, when he had steeled himself for the final, desperate act of self-destruction, a pair of hands, strong and sure, had snatched him back from the precipice of annihilation. A single, powerful back, silhouetted against the blinding void, filled his entire world in that heart-stopping instant.

Reggie, too, gazed upon the rain, seeking to unlock the secrets of his own innate power. In the quietude that surrounded him, his thoughts wandered back, unbidden, to the tumultuous chapters of his past.

Driven from his home world of Trollsblood, fueled by a burning hatred, he and his kin had fled into the star-strewn abyss. Lost and adrift, they wandered the cosmos. A sea of vengeance raged within his heart, yet he was powerless to unleash it.

Exile was their only recourse, a desperate escape undertaken with mere moments to spare, lest they be forever entombed within the boundaries of Trollsblood.

In their wanderings, Reggie led his people to the crimson world of Vermilion Bird. There, the Vermilion Scion, a warrior known as Night Without Sorrow, gathered a multitude of cultivators around him, preparing for war against the planet’s indigenous inhabitants, the Rune-Weavers, an ancient and enigmatic race gifted in the arcane arts.

What was once a world teeming with celestial energy was slowly being bled dry in that brutal conflict. Among Night Without Sorrow’s entourage was a man who rubbed Reggie the wrong way, a character by the name of Situ Nan.

This Situ Nan was a flamboyant and reckless individual, his actions often bordering on the sinister. Reggie, by contrast, found himself drawn to Night Without Sorrow, whose generosity knew no bounds. Upon the arrival of the Trollsblood refugees, Night Without Sorrow extended a lavish welcome, granting them vast swathes of land to form their own enclave. He ensured their safety, placing their territory far from the Rune-Weavers, in a zone of relative peace.

Reggie could offer little in return, save his axe and his own skill in battle. He ventured alone into Rune-Weaver territory, claiming heads in a grim debt of honor to Night Without Sorrow.

Looking back, Reggie mused on his past. He was not the simple brute he appeared to be. Deep cunning lay buried within him, honed by millennia of experience. The cruel imprisonment by the Corpse Yin Sect had only clouded his mind, not erased his wisdom.

It was precisely because of this ingrained cunning that Reggie had readily agreed to become Wang Lin’s mount. He had observed Wang Lin with meticulous care, and come to the realization that following him might be his only path back to Trollsblood, his only chance to exact his revenge.

During that recent battle, Wang Lin’s primal god-roar had resonated deep within his very soul, shattering his carefully constructed defenses. In that instant, all schemes and calculations had crumbled away, leaving only the raw, inherited instinct of his ancestors: to submit to the one who commanded such power. It was then, at that precise moment, that his allegiance to Wang Lin had truly solidified. “Merely a mount will not suffice,” he thought. “I must prove my worth. Everything rests upon the power of the Trollsblood!” With that thought, Reggie closed his eyes, once more immersing himself in the depths of his innate talent.

Wang Lin sat in meditation, the rain cascading down upon him. A chilling sensation seeped into his bones, carried by the falling water. Slowly, deliberately, he exhaled, his spiritual sense expanding outward, centered upon the mountain beneath him, reaching out to encompass the surrounding lands.

His consciousness fragmented, a thousand threads seeking to intertwine with the rain. Yet, each time his spirit touched a droplet, it would fall to earth and dissolve, scattering his essence.

Again and again, he tried, and again and again, the elements seemed indifferent to his attempts, yet it was this very indifference that was his obstacle. The rain, heedless of his intent, followed its natural course, and this Wang Lin could not prevent.

Through endless repetitions, he slowly began to sink into a deeper state of awareness, a state where he could hear, as if from a great distance, an echo of his past insight.

“This rain, born of the heavens, dies upon the earth. The path between is life itself. I watch not the sky, nor the ground, nor even the rain, but the rain’s fleeting existence… This is the essence of life and death!”

Wang Lin’s body jolted. He opened his eyes, staring intently at the falling rain. He murmured, “Life and death… understood. Now, I must grasp the very source of the rain itself…”