"Admit it, Old Man," Zhi Xuan spoke with a hint of arrogance and self-assurance. "Does Winter not always accompany the Heavenly Samsara Wheel that serves as my foundation? I have even attained the enlightenment of Man-Sword Unity, possess a sliver of Xuan-Huang energy fused within my Divine Cauldron, and carry the essence of three ancient races within me."

  "Is it not..." Zhi Xuan paused, as if seeking a reaction from the Old Man, but he received nothing but a chilling cold. "I will unify all of this, weaving my path toward Soul Transformation; only then will I feel the true meaning of the Path of Immortality that has just begun."

  "Soul Transformation," the old man whispered, his voice like snowflakes falling upon a grave. "You speak as if that gate is merely a fragile wooden threshold. Do you not know that thousands of geniuses have turned to ash and ice before that gate because they tried to carry a burden far too heavy? And you... you wish to carry three ancient races, Xuan-Huang energy, and the seasonal laws all at once?"

  Zhi Xuan smirked, slowly rising to his feet and letting the snow on his shoulders fall away. Every movement radiated an authority that seemed to dictate the laws of space around him. "If that gate is too narrow for all these burdens, then I will shatter the gate itself. I will not discard what has become part of my soul merely for the sake of a holy ascension."

  "I will surely find my way to Soul Transformation," Zhi Xuan declared coldly. He slowly turned, glancing one last time at the Old Man. "My name, Zhi Xuan, is the ultimate mystery I must traverse. Once this competition ends, the world will see that the burdens holding me back from Soul Transformation will crumble into dust."

  "Zhi Xuan..." the old man uttered, his voice now as fine as crystallizing frost. "If you truly are capable of weaving that discord into a symphony, then even the Heavens must turn their face from you. Go. This Winter no longer possesses the power to hold back your steps."

  Instantly, the old man and the block of eternal ice beneath him began to fade, turning into thousands of silver particles of light that were cold but no longer painful. The light did not vanish into the air; instead, it streaked into Zhi Xuan, merging with the essences of Spring, Summer, and Autumn already residing there.

  BOOM!

  A spiritual explosion erupted within the center of Zhi Xuan's soul. The Heavenly Samsara Wheel spun at an unimaginable speed, pulling all the seasonal manifestations he had conquered into a single axis. Zhi Xuan felt his body momentarily dragged before he found himself standing on a vast, empty plain with nothing around him.

  The vast field Zhi Xuan now stood upon was no longer part of a seasonal delusion. This was another place within the Sacred Heaven Secret Realm—a space that shifted alongside the changes in his Dao mirror. The sky above was not a typical starry sky, but a breathtaking expanse showing stars shining brightly in a luminous firmament.

  Zhi Xuan stood motionless. Within his chest, the Heavenly Samsara Wheel roared like a storm trapped in a marble bottle. He had successfully quelled the four fundamental forces: the budding of life, the purifying fire, the withering loss, and the freezing silence.

  "Great Saint," Zhi Xuan called out within his consciousness. "How many days has it been since we entered this Secret Realm?"

  "Fifty days, brat; each Season pulled five days here," Ruo Xianxue's voice echoed in his Sea of Consciousness, but this time her tone lacked its sharp mockery. There was a hidden sense of respect, as if the ancient demon fox had just witnessed a caterpillar tear through its cocoon to reveal wings made of heavenly steel.

  "Out there, fifty years have passed in the blink of a mortal eye," Ruo Xianxue continued, glancing at her slender claws while sitting on a branch of the Demon Tree of Life. "But here, time is a chaotic illusion that leaves you drifting."

  "Do not worry," Ruo Xianxue finally sighed, waving her hand gracefully. "Everything you experience here exists within an illusion that not even Sage Qing Xuan can truly see. They only see you walking and finding enlightenment over your Dao."

  Zhi Xuan exhaled a long breath, a thin puff of white steam leaving his lips before he tightened his hold on Mei Hua. The feeling that he had spent fifty days—or fifty years in the outside world—made his heart tremble slightly. To him, it was merely a series of exhausting internal confrontations, but for the flow of the universe's time, it was an entire mortal life spent and eroded by age.

  "Fifty years," Zhi Xuan murmured. He looked at his own palm. His skin still looked as young as when he first stepped foot here, but he knew that his marrow now held the weight of half a century of compressed enlightenment.

  "The Sacred Heaven Secret Realm is truly cruel," Zhi Xuan continued, somewhat lost in thought. "Ye Ming, Liu Feng, Ling Huo, and the Eighth Prince... I do not know if they have survived their own Dao storms."

  "If they failed even the first stage of this competition, wouldn't that worsen Xing Luo's hopes of winning?" Zhi Xuan sighed from exhaustion, gently lowering himself while still cradling Mei Hua to his chest.

  "Xing Luo's victory does not rest on your shoulders alone, brat," Ruo Xianxue's voice returned, heavier this time. "Do not underestimate the geniuses of the Yao Gu Plains. If you can swallow the four seasons, they might be forging their bones with lightning or washing their souls in the river of pseudo-reincarnation. In the world of cultivation, miracles do not belong to just one person."

  Zhi Xuan smiled bitterly, his fingers stroking his silver hair that now shimmered under the starlight. "I know. It's just that I don't know what has happened to my comrades in their respective Secret Realms."

  "Those Young Star Kings and the Imperial Prince?" Ruo Xianxue replied mockingly, as if she had never regarded Zhi Xuan's companions from the start. "I bet the Eighth Prince's Dao Heart will collapse. Though he possesses the Immortal Seven-God Bell that can shake the Heavens, within the Secret Realm that mirrors his Dao, he is nothing."

  "Perhaps that will be proven later," Ruo Xianxue remarked, crossing her long legs, her dual Sun and Moon eyes watching the ripples of energy still churning in Zhi Xuan's Sea of Consciousness. "An Immortal Artifact is indeed formidable, but it cannot protect you from your own soul's mirror. That bell might dampen heavenly lightning, but it cannot silence the whispers of doubt in the heart of a prince raised in luxury."

  Zhi Xuan leaned his back against the void, feeling the ground beneath him much more stable after unifying the four seasonal laws. "And Ye Ming? Or Liu Feng? They possess a burning ambition, far more real than that sheltered prince."

  "Ye Ming is a mysterious mountain, and mountains like him endure easily," Ruo Xianxue plucked a leaf from the demon tree, twirling it between her fingers. "As for Liu Feng, he is like the wind—hard to catch but easy to scatter. Ye Ming and that fire girl, Ling Huo, are the ones I believe will survive once this ends."

  "What about Yan Fenghuang?" Zhi Xuan asked, his voice lowering at the mention of the name that brought rivalry to him. "He possesses the Heavenly Eye that seems capable of burning karma. The Dao mirror shouldn't be able to bury him so easily."

  Ruo Xianxue fell silent for a moment, her dual eyes glowing dimmer as if she were trying to pierce through the mists of dimensions to see the trace of that ancient fire. "That Phoenix... he is different. If you are a black hole that swallows everything, he is a star that refuses to go out. However, remember this, Zhi Xuan: the brighter a star shines, the deeper the shadow it casts. He will survive, but I doubt the figure that emerges from the Secret Realm will be the same Yan Fenghuang."

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  Zhi Xuan closed his eyes, feeling his pulse sync with the Heavenly Samsara Wheel. "As long as he is alive, that is enough. On the competition stage later, I do not need a weak opponent. I need those who have passed through their own hells."

  "But look, there are still twenty days left before this truly ends," Zhi Xuan murmured with a low chuckle. "I suppose Zhu Qinglan is breaking through to the middle stage of Soul Transformation right now."

  "Hah, look at the man mentioning his karmic ties again," Ruo Xianxue snapped with sharp mockery, her laughter sounding like the fine yet sharp clinking of jade jewelry. "You are like a black dog always mentioning that Holy Maiden of the Zhu Ancient Clan as if she holds the leash on your neck."

  Zhi Xuan opened one eye, staring at the calm yet mesmerizing starry sky. "I don't consider anyone to be holding a leash; I am merely mentioning my karmic ties. Besides, am I not her Dao Protector?"

  "Yes, yes," Ruo Xianxue laughed heartily, her elegant body shaking on the demon tree branch, making her black hair dance wildly. "A slaughtering devil carrying an Immortal Artifact, his hands stained with the blood of thousands, always being melancholic as a Dao Protector for a holy maiden."

  Zhi Xuan remained calm, his sapphire-blue eyes unwavering. "Holiness requires darkness to remain pure, Great Saint. I am the shadow ensuring her light will never be extinguished by the dust of the world. Is that not a noble enough task for someone you call a devil?"

  Ruo Xianxue stopped laughing, leaning forward to stare directly into the core of Zhi Xuan's soul. "Noble? Do not deceive yourself, boy. You protect her because you fear losing the only proof that you once had a fragile heart. You use her as an excuse so you aren't completely swallowed by the darkness."

  She paused, her voice turning into a whisper that was both seductive and lethal. "But tell me, Zhi Xuan... what if, when you emerge, you realize Zhu Qinglan no longer needs your protection? What if she has surpassed you so far that your shadow cannot even touch her heels? Will you still call yourself a Dao Protector, or will you be a broken-hearted worshiper?"

  Zhi Xuan fell silent, his fingers stroking Mei Hua's head pausing for a second before he smirked—a smile that carried both peace and the sharpness of a sword. "If she surpasses me, then I will become the challenge that tests her peak. If she no longer needs me, then I will surpass her until I become her center."

  "Tsk, such a stubborn stone," Ruo Xianxue rolled her eyes, then sighed in boredom as she leaned back against the tree trunk. "Do as you wish. For these remaining twenty days, what will you do? You have calmed the Four Seasons; your Samsara Wheel is stable."

  Zhi Xuan smiled faintly, looking up at the starry sky which was beginning to dim and crack. "The Ancient Heavens, they will soon come looking for me."

  Zhi Xuan stood up fully, cradling Mei Hua, who was now fast asleep as if the little girl were the center upon which he stood. He looked up at the increasingly fractured sky, revealing a hollow darkness radiating a very faint yet majestic ancient golden glow.

  "They are coming," Zhi Xuan hissed warily, sharpening his gaze toward the starry expanse.

  The cracks in the Sacred Heaven Secret Realm widened like a gaping wound in the silk of the firmament. Yet, what seeped from the rift was not blood, but swirls of golden mist carrying the scent of ancient eclipses and stardust. The air around Zhi Xuan suddenly became incredibly dense, as if the atmosphere itself had turned into a solid liquid pressing against his very existence.

  From behind the hollow darkness, dozens of giant shadows emerged. Each possessed different wings; dozens had two, others four, and even six. Meanwhile, the three radiating the most majestic light possessed eight wings, seemingly swallowing the existence of the sky itself.

  Zhi Xuan felt his spiritual blood ripple, as if the eclipse patterns etched into the silhouettes of these Ancient Heaven beings were the same blood as his own. He felt his spiritual blood boil, recognizing the lineage within—something he had once refused to acknowledge, refusing to walk the destiny he carried.

  The presence descending from the sky was suffocating, as if the weight of all creation's history were being heaped upon Zhi Xuan's shoulders. Those figures stood atop silver clouds that did not move; their eyes had no pupils, but were whirlpools of eternally rotating nebulae.

  Every flap of the eight-winged creature’s wings created resonance waves that made Zhi Xuan’s meridians ring loudly, as if his mortal and devil bodies were being demanded to prostrate before a higher authority.

  "The lost blood... has found its way back," the voice did not come from a single mouth, but was a vortex of thousands of souls speaking in unison, vibrating the hollow space between the cracks in the sky.

  Zhi Xuan remained standing tall, though his bones began to make faint cracking sounds under the irrational pressure. He took a deep breath, letting the essence of the Four Seasons he had just calmed flow through his veins to support his burdened body.

  "Ancient Heavens," Zhi Xuan looked up, his sapphire-blue eyes staring sharply at the eight-winged figure in the center. "I have inherited memories of you. But that alone is not enough to make me believe I belong to the Ancient Heaven race."

  One of the eight-winged creatures stepped forward onto the frozen air. The light radiating from its body was so blinding it could kill a normal cultivator’s sight. "The Eclipse is the strongest heritage within your existence; you possess the memories of the Ancient Heavens, yet you refuse the destiny of the Ancient Heaven race's revival."

  The eight-winged figure spread its arms, and instantly the Shabby Coffin stored within Zhi Xuan’s storage bag was pulled out. The coffin opened, revealing two wings that radiated a majestic aura as they met those carrying the Ancient Heaven blood.

  "These wings, the Cauldron you forged with those bones," the voice echoed again, carrying a hint of familiarity. "You have been met by your destiny long ago, yet why you? You even rejected the Ancient Heaven Guardian, accepting only an incomplete memory."

  Zhi Xuan stared at the wings floating out of the Shabby Coffin with an unreadable gaze. The wings trembled, as if they were birds finally finding their flock again after thousands of years trapped in a rotten wooden cage.

  The majestic aura radiating from those wings now synergized with the dozens of beings in the sky, creating a resonance that made Zhi Xuan’s chest feel tight with a pride that was not his own.

  "Destiny?" Zhi Xuan chuckled, though his voice was squeezed by the massive pressure. "You speak of destiny as if it were a cloak I could wear at any time. These wings, the bones I forged... I obtained them from blood and despair, not as a free gift from your glowing thrones."

  "My path is full of blood, not the majesty of the Ancient Heavens," Zhi Xuan hissed, staring sharply at the Ancient Heaven being that was a mirror of the blood he carried. "If I am your descendant, why did you place the Nine Heavens Bead inside my body? Why did you drift me down a river to end up in a star village?"

  "Why," Zhi Xuan’s teeth gritted in a heart-wrenching sound. "That bamboo scroll even wrote that I must not cultivate—that I carry a great calamity the universe considers the Great Saint and Heavenly God imprisoned within the Nine Heavens Bead."

  "If you truly are my origin," Zhi Xuan decided with a sharp roar, straightening his body and stomping his foot, making the oppressive presence feel no longer overwhelming. "Why did you make me live in ignorance of my origins, fashioning a fate where I must die as a mortal who knows nothing!"

  The shock from Zhi Xuan's roar made the golden mist in the sky ripple violently. The silence that followed felt more suffocating than the previous pressure. The dozens of Ancient Heaven figures did not move, but the nebulae in their eyes spun faster, as if reading every inch of fury etched into the silver-haired youth’s soul.

  The eight-winged figure in the center—whose aura was closest to eternity—slowly lowered its hand. The light radiating from it dimmed slightly, revealing a face so perfect yet cold, like a jade statue untouched by mortal emotion.

  "Ignorance is the best protection for a threatened seed," the voice echoed again, now deeper, as if drawn from the bottom of the well of time. "Zhi Xuan, you curse the bamboo scroll that forbade you from cultivating, but you do not realize that without that prohibition, you would not have grown while you were still an infant."

  The figure stepped through the air, approaching Zhi Xuan until it was only a few fathoms away. "The Nine Heavens Bead was not placed to torture you, but to seal two ancient races capable of collapsing the order of the universe should they awaken in a body not yet ready. We drifted you down the river to the star village, hoping you would remain mortal, so this eclipse destiny would never happen."

  "Hoping?" Zhi Xuan laughed, a dry laugh full of heavenly bitterness. "You hoped I would stay mortal while you put two ancient beings in my chest? You let me walk through a storm without a staff, and now you come and speak as if you are loving parents?"

  Zhi Xuan raised his pitch-black left hand and its blue tattoos, showing the markings that now glowed wildly. "Look at this hand! This is not the hand of a holy Ancient Heaven. This is the hand of a Devil, a hand that snatches lives for a sip of spiritual essence! If you wanted me to stay mortal, why did you let me meet Ruo Xianxue?"