"Once my blood touched the earth… I was no longer the man I used to be."
To stand between Heaven and Earth, one must first ask their soul—who am I?
After the Spirit Burial Realm — A Rift Between Sky and Soul
Stepping out from the layers of ash-stained stone, Lâm Mạc's body was drenched in blood, his soul still smoldering like a dying ember.
The Blood of the Forsaken had only just awakened—yet already, it clashed violently within him.
His Spiritual Energy flickered erratically, and his divine soul remained unstable.
"You've stepped into the Dao. But if your soul cannot follow…""…you'll die by your own flame."
The voice of ash whispered… and then vanished.
In front of him stood a towering black platform, over three zhang high, etched with countless spiraling ancient runes—each character like a drop of scorched blood.
"The Soulfire Trial Platform…" he muttered.
From the burned remnants of his memories, the name resurfaced.
An ancient ritual site once used to purify the soul—a place where even the soul of an Immortal Emperor was tempered.
Standing upon the platform, his body was swallowed by Soulfire Flame. It bore no heat—yet every breath stripped away layers of his identity.
And before him…
…stood himself.
Not a shadow.Not an illusion.
But the Lâm Mạc from long ago—bright eyes, brimming pride, a prodigy untouched by fate.
"Who are you?" the reflection asked."Once, you sought to become a Saint—for your mother, for your clan, for glory.Now… why do you cultivate?"
Lâm Mạc was silent.
The fire surged higher.It seared his robes. Cracked his bones. Still, he said nothing.
"If you no longer know what you live for—then you're unworthy of forging your soul!"
Just as his body was nearly reduced to ash, his eyes snapped open.
A line of ancient script burned across his heart.It was not human script—but the primordial language of the Thái Sơ:
"To refine the soul is not to grow stronger…""It is to preserve a 'self' that Heaven cannot rewrite."
In that moment, a beam of light shot from the stone platform into his forehead.His divine soul trembled—fractured threads of spirit tore apart, then rewove themselves anew.
Lâm Mạc collapsed, his blood and sweat mixing into one.
Within his Sea of Consciousness, a new spirit form emerged—a mirage-like being in his own image, flickering like smoke.
It was the first embryo of his Spirit Form—the earliest seed of "True Soul Sovereignty" in the Thái Sơ Sinh Đạo.
As he staggered down from the Soulfire Platform, a dark mist swept across the air—forming the hazy image of the white-robed woman once more.
But this time…
Her eyes were no longer cold.
Instead, they were lost—like a sealed soul, searching desperately for a name it had forgotten.
"Lâm… Mạc…"
Blood seeped from the center of her brow—dissolving into the wind with the faint scent of peach blossoms.
Lâm Mạc froze.
His heart—hardened through flame and ash—quivered.
"She… hasn't truly forgotten me."
"If the path I walk has caused her to forget…""…then I will walk it to the very end—until I reclaim the memory that was stolen."
A silver-ash flame surged silently within his soul.
Not for cultivation.Not for vengeance.
But for a single gaze—one that never had the chance to say what it truly meant.