In a luxurious hall adorned with celestial ornaments and ancient carvings, a group of elder figures sat in a circular formation. Each one exuded an overwhelming aura, heavy enough to bend the air around them. At the center, seated on an elevated throne, was a middle-aged man whose mere presence felt capable of suppressing heaven and earth itself.
One of the elders below rose slightly, his tone respectful as he spoke,
"Sect Leader, the Holy Son Conference is about to begin. Among the inner sect disciples, seven have been selected for their outstanding performance."
The sect leader fell into deep contemplation upon hearing this. After a moment of silence, he murmured the names to himself,
"Gu Chen, Su Ming, Ye Chen, Fang Zheng, Lin Fan, Feng Kai, Bai Gu..."
He nodded slightly and then said aloud,
"I see. The Holy Competition will continue for the next nine years."
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. With a wave of his hand, he commanded,
"Begin preparations for the competition."
His gesture signaled the end of the meeting, and the elders bowed silently before dispersing.
Meanwhile, in a quiet chamber bathed in soft spiritual light, a young man sat cross-legged in deep meditation. Spiritual energy from every corner of the room surged toward him, drawn in with unnatural speed, forming a vortex of power as it was absorbed directly into his body.
After some time, his eyes snapped open, and he slowly clenched his fist, feeling the familiar pulse of strength flowing within him. A smirk formed on his face as he muttered,
"Zeroth stage of Formation Apprentice. Cultivating with my fifth-grade talent is truly effective. From now on, I am no longer a mere mortal,I have taken my first step on the path of cultivation."
An otherworldly light gleamed in his eyes as he smiled.
If Wang Ming had been present, he would have immediately recognized this youth. He was the very same person who, alongside Wang Ming, had been regressed back in time.
He was Lin Fan,the prodigious genius of the Six Paths Holy Land.
Lin Fan rose to his feet and walked toward a window. Gazing at the vast horizon beyond the sacred peaks, he spoke in a calm, unwavering tone,
"Wang Ming... or the Hallbringer of Death, whatever title they once gave you it will not happen again. Wait for me. In nine years, after I claim the title of Holy Son in the competition, I will come for you. I will hunt you down."
His inner voice echoed with unshakable determination. Turning silently, he stepped out of the room, his aura steady and resolute.