The gigantic sword manifested by Wang Lin had not only distorted the air and the land.
The pressure of his Qi spread far beyond the clearing, threading its way between ancient trunks and sinking into the silent layers of the forbidden forest. In a place long accustomed to stillness, this disturbance did not go unnoticed.
The ferocious beasts reacted instinctively. Some trembled in their sleep. Others opened their eyes without moving, attentive to this foreign presence—still clumsy, yet already carrying an abnormal potential.
Among them, an ancient existence awakened.
In a deeper clearing, upon a stone slab covered in black moss, a massive tiger slowly opened its eyes. Its dark fur shimmered faintly, speckled with pale reflections like a star-filled sky frozen in the night. Each breath caused those silent lights to ripple, steady and almost solemn.
This creature did not like being disturbed during its slumber.
Even less by an unstable, poorly controlled foreign pressure—one nonetheless marked enough to disturb the local Weave.
Its pupils contracted slightly.
Then, the pressure vanished.
Several kilometers away, Wang Lin dispersed the ice sword. The Qi withdrew into his internal channels; the rain faded, the snow receded, and the air gradually returned to its natural balance.
The calm seemed to return.
Within the forbidden forest, the tiger closed its eyes once more, its body resuming the perfect stillness of ancient rest. Yet something had changed. A faint trace lingered within the Weave—too weak to provoke an immediate reaction, but real enough to be remembered.
The night reclaimed its silence.
Wang Lin already knew that if he continued cultivating this way, it would not be enough. The power he had inherited from Liang Feng—Water and Ice—could not be mastered through mere accumulation of Qi. He needed something else. A method. A structure capable of supporting this specialization without causing internal collapse.
His expression darkened slightly, though he did not yet fully understand why. He still did not realize that reaching the fifth level of the Mortal Realm at his age was anything but normal. For an ordinary cultivator, cultivation began around the age of six: the gradual opening of the Qi Node, the careful circulation of Qi through primitive channels, and years spent solely on stabilization.
He had passed through those stages far too quickly.
Far too quickly.
" What if I try opening the sealed scroll… "
He placed two fingers against his forehead and focused his consciousness, plunging into his second Spirit Sea. The scroll appeared almost instantly, floating at the periphery—intact, still sealed. His attention drifted for a brief moment.
" The goddess… she should be coming out of seclusion by now. "
She had expended an enormous amount of spiritual energy to open the celestial portal. Wang Lin tried to sense her, searching for the small sphere nestled at the core of his Spirit Sea—the one containing the true body of the Goddess of Cycles. But nothing changed. The sphere remained closed, silent, immersed in deep retreat.
She was not ready yet.
Wang Lin exhaled slowly.
" It doesn't matter. That's not why I came. "
He refocused on the sealed scroll. With a thought, he drew it out of his Spirit Sea, letting it float before him, bathed in moonlight.
The teachings of the old cultivator surfaced in his mind. To unseal a spiritual object, Qi had to be circulated with precision through one's primitive channels. If the object did not acknowledge its owner, the backlash could be fatal—destruction of the Qi Node, collapse of the channels, sometimes instant death.
Wang Lin calmly placed his hand on the scroll.
" But this one belongs to me. "
His gaze steadied.
" More precisely… it belongs to my future self. "
Without further hesitation, he began circulating his Qi.
Then Wang Lin opened the sealed scroll.
At that exact moment, he had no idea that what he was about to hear would irreversibly shatter his understanding of himself, his cultivation, and his place in this world. The seal dissolved soundlessly, as if it had never been meant to resist him, and an ancient presence manifested at once, imposing a silent gravity upon the clearing.
A voice arose.
It carried neither anger nor kindness. It was deep, steady, stripped of all superfluous emotion, and it did not echo through the air but directly within Wang Lin's consciousness—clear and unmistakable.
"I was certain you would eventually open it."
Wang Lin's Qi contracted slightly, as if it had recognized this presence even before his mind could.
"Your true Spirit Sea is not missing. It is sealed. Four layers of seals keep it closed. With each breakthrough in realm, one seal will shatter. Only then will you gradually gain access to what it contains."
A heavy silence settled, pressing upon his internal channels, which trembled instinctively as they tried to reorganize under the invisible pressure.
"That Spirit Sea contains a power that even the gods do not possess. And one they fear."
The voice paused, as if allowing the weight of those words to sink in.
"By opening this scroll, you have also awakened something else. The Eyes of Eternal Void."
A burning sensation surged through Wang Lin's eyes—deep, nearly painful—before slowly stabilizing, leaving behind an altered perception of the world.
"Use them sparingly. Their perception surpasses Qi, the Dao, and common laws. Excessive use will cause you to lose control. Remember this."
The voice faded.
The scroll emptied of all presence, becoming once more a simple ancient object in Wang Lin's hands. Around him, the clearing remained silent, and the moon continued its immutable course across the night sky. Yet something had changed beyond reversal.
Wang Lin remained still, head lowered.
Something had opened.
Not in the world.
But within him.
Wang Lin stayed frozen, still in shock.
The words he had just heard continued to press upon him—not as an echo, but as a persistent, crushing weight he could not ignore. His Qi remained unstable, and his thoughts struggled to realign.
Then, without the slightest warning, a disturbance rippled through his Spirit Sea.
The small sealed sphere—the one containing the true body of the Goddess of Cycles—vibrated faintly. A thin line of light cracked across its surface, and a familiar consciousness awakened abruptly, still heavy with fatigue, yet filled with urgency.
Her voice rang out directly from within his Spirit Sea.
"Wang Lin. Be careful!"
The tone was sharp. Decisive. Free of any confusion.
This was neither a revelation nor a distant warning.
It was immediate danger.
And Wang Lin felt it instinctively.
Something outside had begun to resonate with what he had just released.