The world had not healed.
That was the first thing Wang Lin understood.
From within the Spiritual Sea, he could still sense the Blue Star—faintly, at a distance, like a body glimpsed through thick fog. The violent clash of Dao had ended, the heavens no longer screamed, and yet… something was wrong.
It was not a wound.
It was residue.
The vast, translucent sea beneath his feet flowed in slow, measured currents, each carrying fragments of intent that did not belong to this world. Laws drifted around him like wandering constellations, endlessly rearranging themselves, as if uncertain which configuration was still valid.
This place was stable.
The world outside was not.
Wang Lin clenched his fists.
Even here—within Liang Feng's inner domain—he could feel it: a dull pressure weighing on his thoughts, not enough to crush him, but persistent enough to remind him of his insignificance.
He had witnessed something he was never meant to see.
Dao colliding.
Existence rewritten.
And that realization settled heavily in his chest.
This was no longer a disaster that would simply pass.
Far above the Spiritual Sea, on the fractured surface of the Blue Star, Liang Feng stood alone.
The sky had sealed itself, but the scars remained.
Faint green fractures lingered like afterimages etched into the firmament itself. They did not spread. They did not close. They simply existed—silent proof that the world had once been forced beyond its limits.
Liang Feng lowered his gaze.
His breathing was steady.
Too steady.
The blood that had stained his lips earlier was gone, dispersed into the surrounding flows of qi, as if the world itself had instinctively tried to erase any trace of weakness. But Liang Feng was not fooled.
The injury was internal.
Not to his body.
To his authority.
The Dao of Profanation had not defeated him—but it had touched him.
And that alone was already dangerous.
He slowly raised his hand.
The water around him responded instantly, forming subtle currents that coiled around his arm like living veins. On the surface, nothing appeared to have changed.
Beneath it, his circulation was strained.
A second exchange would not merely damage the planet.
It would collapse it.
Liang Feng closed his eyes for a brief moment.
A memory surfaced without being summoned—an ancient seal, a mission issued under a banner long destroyed, and a choice made against the will of the heavens themselves.
*I did not regret it then.*
*I do not regret it now.*
But consequences did not care for conviction.
Inside the Spiritual Sea, Wang Lin suddenly staggered.
A sharp pain pierced behind his eyes, forcing him to drop to his knees.
Images flooded his mind.
Not memories—imprints.
A colossal axe descending through concepts rather than space.
Water forced to circulate against its own nature.
Cold freezing not matter, but intention itself.
Wang Lin gasped, his hand clutching his chest.
The sensations vanished as abruptly as they had come, leaving behind a single, terrifying certainty.
Something had been left inside him.
Not power.
Not knowledge.
A mark.
He slowly lowered his gaze to his hands.
For barely a fraction of a second, thin lines flickered across his skin—too faint to be called symbols, too deliberate to be random. They vanished before he could focus on them, retreating deeper, as if waiting.
Waiting for him to grow.
Wang Lin swallowed hard.
"So… this is what he meant…" he murmured.
The demon had not needed to win.
He had only needed to point the path.
The Spiritual Sea remained silent.
But far beyond it, beyond the clouds and the wounded sky, something ancient stirred—drawn not by destruction, but by recognition.
The heavens had not been broken.
The Spiritual Sea lay motionless, an infinite expanse of silence and ancient laws, while beneath Wang Lin's feet the translucent currents flowed slowly, carrying a deceptive stability that clashed violently with the turmoil in his mind. The crushing presence of Liang Feng no longer oppressed him as before; it had grown distant, contained, as if something had withdrawn without ever truly leaving, leaving behind an absence heavier than the pressure that had preceded it.
Then, before him, the water shivered.
The currents began to gather and condense, folding into one another with perfect precision, until a silhouette took shape without rupture or invocation, the natural result of a will already at work. A perfect projection of Liang Feng appeared, formed of cold light and frozen currents, his features identical to those of his true body on the Blue Star, yet faintly unreal, as though separated from the world by a thin layer of silence that nothing could cross.
"Wang Lin."
His voice produced no echo. It resonated directly within the Spiritual Sea itself, like a law being spoken.
Wang Lin lifted his head, still shaken by the lingering sensations from before, and after a moment's hesitation, he spoke, his voice weaker than he intended.
"Liang Feng… what happens now?"
He paused, then the question he had held back for far too long—the one rooted in him long before the confrontation—finally escaped, trembling.
"And… what will happen to Uncle Wang?"
Silence followed.
Not an empty silence, nor a mere pause in speech, but a heavy silence, laden with invisible weight that caused the currents themselves to slow. The projection of Liang Feng lowered its gaze, and for a brief instant, Wang Lin thought he saw something like weariness pass through it.
"I will be honest with you, Wang Lin."
Around them, the flows froze almost imperceptibly, as though the Spiritual Sea itself were bracing for what would be said.
"I have no chance against Míng Jiǎo Zūn."
The words fell without emphasis, without any attempt to soften the truth or hide it behind ambiguity.
"He is too powerful. His comprehension of the Dao is profound—far beyond what I anticipated. I knew he was dangerous… but not to this extent."
A moment passed, and something dark crossed his eyes.
"What truly allowed me to hold on until now," he continued at last, "is one of the three mysterious techniques I inherited from my master."
He said no more.
He did not need to.
Wang Lin's heart tightened violently, as if the space around him had contracted.
"Everything you heard during that confrontation is true," Liang Feng continued evenly.
"What…?" Wang Lin murmured, instinctive fear gripping his chest.
"It is true that you were taken away.
It is true that the Demon Emperor is searching for you.
And if he were to truly lay his hands on you…"
His voice grew heavier, slower.
"It would not be a local disaster.
It would be an apocalypse of the Daotian Cosmos."
Wang Lin shook his head, unable to follow, unable even to understand how such a chain of events could involve his existence.
"But… what are you talking about? I don't understand!"
The projection of Liang Feng stepped forward, gliding over the water without disturbing it, as if resistance itself held no meaning before him.
"Wang Lin… everything I have done until now, I have done for your sake."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"But if you wish to find your family… if you wish to protect what you believe to be real… then you must become extremely powerful."
Each syllable seemed heavier than the last.
"More powerful than anything that exists within this Daotian Cosmos.
This world is far more dangerous than you imagine."
A deep, absolute sadness passed through his gaze, devoid of pathos, and thus infinitely heavier for it. Liang Feng knew. He knew this moment marked an irreversible fracture.
"Become strong, Wang Lin," he said more softly.
"And… try to live a good life."
A fragile silence stretched.
"Try… to forgive me."
Wang Lin's heart began to race.
"What are you going to do…?" he asked, his voice breaking.
"I will use one of my forbidden arts," Liang Feng replied calmly.
"To try to hold him back.
And to open a portal for you."
Tears welled in Wang Lin's eyes.
"Uncle Wang…!" he cried suddenly, panic surging through him.
The projection slowly shook its head.
"Do not worry."
He raised his hand.
"What you perceive is not real.
He never existed as an independent entity."
Wang Lin froze.
"He is a manifestation of my Dao of Water and Ice," Liang Feng continued.
"It sustains him… for now."
The world seemed to waver around Wang Lin, and understanding struck with merciless force.
"Then… my entire life…"
Rage surged within him, violent and uncontrollable.
"My life is built on lies?!"
His qi destabilized instantly, sending a dull vibration through the Spiritual Sea.
"No… no… even if you did all this… I hate you… I—"
His words broke apart.
The world went black.
Wang Lin lost consciousness, collapsing into Liang Feng's Spiritual Sea as the currents gently closed around him, as if shielding him from a reality too heavy to endure.
The projection of Liang Feng remained motionless.
"Do not force my hand…" he murmured.
His eyes closed.
And beyond the Spiritual Sea, on the already wounded Blue Star, the true battle entered its final phase.
They had been challenged.
And for the first time in a very long while, they were paying attention.