"Wait, there are more secrets hidden in this 'Basic Guide'?"
Xiao Lin's eyes snapped toward the weathered book in his hand. He flipped through the pages again, his Heavenly State Soul scanning every fiber of the paper, every drop of dried ink. Yet, no matter how hard he looked, the pages remained stubbornly mundane.
"Don't waste your energy," Zhen Lao chuckled, though his voice was becoming dangerously thin. "With your current rank, you couldn't see the truth even if I pointed at it. To unravel what I've hidden, you must reach the level I once held. Right now, you aren't even a Rank 1 Spirit Array Master."
Zhen Lao had written this book not just as a primer for the Barbarian Sect, but as a "living will." He had infused his obsession with his lost home, the Palace of Ten Thousand Arrays, into its very structure. It was a test: only a true successor of his craft would ever find the coordinates to the ancestral ruins.
"Teacher, you really enjoy being a riddle-master, don't you?" Xiao Lin grumbled, a hint of playful resentment in his tone. "Fine. I'll be a riddle-master too when I get older. It seems to be a prerequisite for being a legend."
Zhen Lao's form flickered again, turning almost completely transparent. The levity in the room vanished. Xiao Lin felt a cold lump in his throat. He knew—and the old man knew—that the sand in the hourglass had run out.
"Do not grieve for me, Xiao Lin," Zhen Lao said, his expression serene. "I have outlived my era by ten thousand years. To find you, to know that our Palace will not be forgotten... I am content. Now, sit. Let us finish the last task I have on this earth."
Xiao Lin sat cross-legged, his heart heavy but his mind sharp. He adjusted his Star Dou Qi and stabilized his spirit, reaching a state of absolute peak focus.
Zhen Lao extended a shimmering, ghostly finger and pressed it against Xiao Lin's forehead.
BOOM.
A flood of esoteric information surged into Xiao Lin's consciousness—the Art of Condensing Spirit Seals.
In the Great Thousand World, practitioners use Spiritual Energy to form these seals. In the Dou Qi Continent, Xiao Lin had to adapt his Dou Qi. It was like trying to weave silk out of iron wire; the energy was denser, more stubborn, and far more volatile.
Inside his mind, Xiao Lin failed. Once. Ten times. A hundred times.
The first seal is the hardest. It is the "Qi Disciple" stage of the Array path. It doesn't prove your ultimate power, but it proves your eligibility. Many spend a lifetime studying diagrams but never manifest a single seal because their soul control lacks the "divine spark" required to bridge the gap between thought and matter.
Xiao Lin's Heavenly State Soul was a massive advantage, but the "Iron-to-Silk" conversion of Dou Qi was exhausting. He reached a bottleneck, the seal half-formed and trembling on the verge of shattering.
The Master's Final Act
"As your teacher, let me help you one last time."
Zhen Lao's voice echoed in Xiao Lin's soul. Without waiting for an answer, the old man dissolved his remaining soul essence—the very thread keeping him in the world—and poured it directly into Xiao Lin's Sea of Consciousness.
With the aid of this ancient, pure soul power, the half-formed seal stabilized instantly. The "Iron wire" turned to "Liquid Light."
Ding.
A crisp, melodic chime rang out in Xiao Lin's mind. A singular, brilliant white crystalline seal—pulsating with the rhythm of a heartbeat—now floated serenely in the center of his spirit.
Success. Xiao Lin had officially stepped through the door. He was no longer just a warrior who knew how to draw; he was a Rank 1 Spirit Array Master.
But as the joy of success washed over him, he felt the sudden, crushing absence of the presence that had guided him. He snapped his eyes open, searching the room for the old man.
When Xiao Lin turned back to look at Zhen Lao, he felt a cold shudder run down his spine. The old man's form was no longer just translucent—it was nearly invisible, flickering like a candle guttering in a fierce wind.
"Teacher!" Xiao Lin cried out, the joy of condensing his first Spirit Seal instantly vanishing.
He didn't need to be told. He knew that the final push he received at the bottleneck had come at the cost of the old man's very existence. Zhen Lao had burned the last of his soul essence to ensure his disciple wouldn't fail.
Early on, Xiao Lin had viewed this apprenticeship as a fair trade: knowledge for respect. But in this moment, seeing the old man sacrifice his last moments of consciousness for him, the bond became blood-deep.
"Do not weep, child," Zhen Lao's voice was a mere ripple in the air, so faint that Xiao Lin had to use his Heavenly State Soul just to hear it. "I was a ghost clinging to a ruin. To leave behind a successor, to know the Palace of Ten Thousand Arrays lives on in you... that is a death without regret. Go... stand at the peak of this continent for me."
"Teacher, I will never forget!" Xiao Lin promised, his voice thick with resolve. "One day, I will rebuild the Palace. I will ensure our lineage stands taller than the heavens!"
Xiao Lin had never planned on founding a sect—he was a Xiao man, and the Xiao Clan's rise was his priority. But today, a second pillar was added to his life's mission. The Xiao Clan was his blood, but the Palace was his soul's inheritance.
"Do what you can... I have had regrets, I have had grief... but in this, I have no... remorse..."
With those final words, Zhen Lao's soul dissolved into a faint blue mist, scattering into the air. He died with a smile, finally free of the eons of solitude. He only lamented that he could not return his spirit to his ancestral home.
"Rest well, Teacher..." Xiao Lin murmured.
But as the last wisps of the spirit began to fade, the Formation Pavilion itself—the very building that had housed Zhen Lao for millennia—shuddered violently. It was a dying structure's final tribute to its master. A hidden surge of ancient energy erupted from the floorboards, sweeping up the dissipating soul particles and compressing them.
Clink.
A small, thumb-sized crystal, brilliant azure in color, fell from the air where the spirit had vanished. Xiao Lin caught it instantly.
Using his Heavenly State Soul, Xiao Lin gasped. This wasn't just a crystal; it was a Soul Fragment. The Pavilion's residual power had forcibly preserved a sliver of Zhen Lao's essence.
"A fragment..." Xiao Lin whispered, hope igniting in his chest. "In the Dou Qi Continent, a fragment is as good as dead. Even a Dou Di might not be able to pull a man back from a single shard. But... I'm not just aiming for this world."
Xiao Lin thought of his grandson, the future Flame Emperor. He thought of the Great Thousand World and the rank of Ruler (Maha-sthamaprapta). If a Dou Di couldn't do it, surely a Ruler of the Great Thousand World—the one who commands the very laws of the universe—could resurrect a soul from a single spark.
"Teacher, wait for me," Xiao Lin said, tucking the fragment into the most protected corner of his Storage Ring. "I will bring you back to see the new Palace."
The miracle had exhausted the building. Without Zhen Lao's soul and the Pavilion's final reserves, the structure could no longer withstand the weight of centuries.
RUMBLE—
Cracks raced up the walls of the ninth floor. Dust and debris rained down. Xiao Lin didn't hesitate; he smashed through the weakened wall with a single palm strike and leaped into the open air.
Behind him, the nine-story marvel groaned and folded in on itself. A cloud of ancient dust billowed upward as the Formation Pavilion was erased from the map, leaving only a pile of rubble and broken dreams.
Xiao Lin landed softly on the scorched earth of the ruin, his robes fluttering. He looked toward the center of the sect where the Dou Huangs were still battling.
"The inheritance is mine," Xiao Lin said, his eyes turning cold. "Now, let's see what else this 'Secret Realm' is hiding."