In Renegade Immortal (仙逆), Wang Lin’s (王林) blood soul is refined into a Resentful Spirit (怨灵) by Liu Mei (柳眉). His rage burns hot enough to consume anyone who protects her, even the powerful Huan (幻) family.
Yet Liu Mei herself did not truly want this outcome—her hatred for him simply grew too wild to control. She leaves behind a storage pouch with instructions on how to dissolve the resentment from the child, Wang Ping (王平). This forces Wang Lin onto his second Mortal Journey. Some viewers find this arc slow compared to the endless battles, but that quiet pace is exactly where the real pain lives. No explosions. No grand speeches. Just a father trying to save a son who should never have existed.
The Father’s Pain
To give Wang Ping a body, Wang Lin borrows a single sword energy from Ling Tianhou (凌天侯). That energy carves out a rough, fragile form—enough to hold a soul, but barely. Then begins the long, exhausting work of driving out the resentment. This is not a fight he can win with power. It takes years of slow pressure, like squeezing poison from a wound drop by drop. He cannot rush. Every time the dark energy fades a little, the boy breathes a little easier. Sun Tai stays with them for a while, a strange uncle figure who teaches Wang Ping small things. When Sun Tai dies, Wang Lin feels the weight of Karma land on his shoulders like a stone.
Death teaches what life hides. Wang Lin watches Sun Tai’s (孙泰) final moments and sees how one person’s actions ripple into another’s fate. He needs to enrich his Artistic Conception. Without that, his cultivation is just empty power. Liu Mei proved this. She forced her way to the peak of Wen Ding (问鼎) but could not match even a mid-stage fighter. Her conception lagged behind like a broken leg. The same would happen to Wang Lin if he ignored the slow grief of this journey. Every tearless night beside Wang Ping, every small failure, every quiet breath—these are the things that make his conception grow. Only when conception keeps pace with cultivation can a person be truly strong.
Liu Mei’s path ended in emptiness. She reached the Wen Ding Great Perfection, but her foundation cracked under the weight. Huan Wuqing (幻无情) raised her like livestock, fattening her Artistic Conception just to devour it later. She could never advance beyond the Yin (阴) Deficiency and Yang (阳) Reality stages. That was enough for her captor. But Wang Lin refuses to walk the same road. He stays in the mud of mortal life, changing bandages, cooking simple meals, watching a son who cannot cry. This is his cultivation now. And it hurts more than any sword.
A Son’s Wish
Wang Ping wants to cultivate. He begs. He argues. He throws himself at his father’s feet and demands to be taught. His reason is simple and heartbreaking: he wants to live longer so he can stay with Wang Lin. For the boy, his father is everything—the only warmth in a cold, confusing world. He thinks that if he can just learn to gather Qi (气), he will never have to say goodbye. Wang Lin looks at him and says no. Not a soft no. A hard, final no that leaves no room for negotiation.
The truth is ugly. Wang Ping is not a real person. He is a Living Dead—a body shaped from borrowed sword energy, held together by willpower and leftover resentment. He has a wife, yes. He married, tried to live a normal life. But he cannot father children. He feels sadness, but no tears come out of his eyes. His body is a shell with no foundation for Cultivation.
Wang Lin’s heart shatters behind his stern face. He wants to give his son everything. But some things cannot be given. So he sits down with Wang Ping one night and tells him the whole story—the blood soul, the resentment, the limits of that borrowed body. He does not soften the ugly parts. He lets the boy see his own long, painful life without filters. Wang Ping cannot accept it at first. He turns away. He stops speaking to his father. Weeks pass. Months. The silence between them grows heavy as wet wool.
Yet deep down, the boy begins to understand. His father’s refusal is not cruelty. It is the hardest kind of love—the kind that says “no” because “yes” would only drag him into deeper suffering. Wang Ping stops asking. He lives his quiet, short life. Married but childless. Tearless but not without feeling. He does not forgive right away. But by the time his body starts to fade, the anger has already left him. He only regrets the years he wasted being angry.
Karma’s Lesson
The resentment inside Wang Ping shrinks year by year, like ice melting under a weak sun. Wang Lin watches, waits, and works. He does not push. He simply stays present—a quiet mountain beside a fading stream. Then one day, the boy’s body begins to glow from within. The last dark thread of the Resentful Spirit pulls free and dissolves into the air like smoke. Wang Ping does not scream or weep. He just smiles. A small, tired, honest smile. Then he turns into a small ball of pure light.
Wang Lin holds the light in his hands. It is warm. It does not speak, but he feels his son’s peace. No more pain. No more being trapped between life and death. Just light, then nothing. In that moment, Karma stops being a word and becomes a physical thing inside his chest. It is not a chain or a debt. It is the simple truth that every beginning carries an end inside it. And every end plants a seed for something new. Wang Lin’s Artistic Conception grows heavier, deeper, ready for the next stage of his own long road.
At the very end of Wang Ping’s mortal life, he sees his father one last time. No tears—he still cannot cry. But his eyes are soft. He has long stopped blaming Wang Lin. He understands now why the path of cultivation was denied to him. That denial was the only true gift a father could give. Wang Lin watches the light fade, feels it slip through his fingers, and lets it go. He does not chase it. He does not try to hold on. He just breathes. The second mortal journey closes, but the lesson stays carved into his soul like a scar that will never fully heal.