Ten legions of demon soldiers, enough to extinguish a nascent soul, so it was said. Yet, this “nascent soul” was not Wang Lin. Any ordinary cultivator at that stage, facing such a horde, would find their celestial energies taxed, even with the most potent of spells. For when the demonic energies of those legions coalesced, focused through ancient formations, they could challenge even a soul-shaping warrior.

But Wang Lin was beyond reason, consumed by a madness that defied even death itself. What were these demon soldiers to him?

His Immortal Slaughter Art thrived on carnage, drawing life from the act of destruction. Furthermore, his very essence pulsed with the Ascending Fruit, his veins coursing with immense celestial power. Could these ten legions truly hope to hinder him?

Had their numbers been five times greater, Wang Lin would surely fall. But now, facing these ten thousand, he would not be defeated.

A miasma of slaughter surged through the demon ranks, mingling with cries of anguish. The collected demonic energies of the soldiers coalesced into a colossal, spectral scorpion.

Born of pure demonic essence, the scorpion was vast beyond measure. Its tail, tipped with a venomous barb, shimmered with unholy light, threatening to shatter the very fabric of reality with its every flick.

Upon the ramparts, a middle-aged commander, his face etched with grim resolve, commanded, “Go forth! Slay this fiend!”

Without a word, his demon generals surged into the air, hurtling towards Wang Lin. A dozen killing intent filled strikes immediately alerted Wang Lin. Eyes flashing crimson, he met their charge head-on, extending his right little finger.

The Yellow Springs Finger!

Forged from a soul-shaping cultivator’s resolve, this strike was a doorway to the Yellow Springs itself. As his spirit merged with his intent, the finger pulsed with the very essence of life and death. As it was released, the heavens seemed rent by bolts of celestial lightning, illuminating a great river in the sky.

Its waters were murky, choked with severed limbs and the tormented souls of the damned, each face a tableau of despair.

With a flick of Wang Lin’s hand, a torrent of that river’s waters cascaded from the heavens, a deluge to drown the world. Where the waters flowed, all life was consumed.

The Yellow Springs waters quenched the Azure Sky, and the Heavens and Earth became muddy, the reincarnation cycle starting.

This river of the Yellow Springs was born of Wang Lin’s spirit and intent, a decade-long vigil made manifest. This river bowed to no celestial law, existing only as a manifestation of his own will. He had sought to understand the cycle of reincarnation, and through ten years of contemplation, channeled the Yellow Springs into being with a single finger.

The demon generals, barely launched, were swept away by the descending torrent, swallowed whole.

Cries of terror escaped their lips. They could not believe the power of this single youth!

One spell, and the demon generals were trapped! They could not fathom this power, but one could perceive its origins!

Upon the ramparts, the middle-aged commander’s face underwent a transformation like no other before. He recoiled, eyes wide with disbelief.

“This…this is impossible! He is but a soul-shaping cultivator! How can he possess such a terrifying Dao, his will given form, a Yellow Springs River of his own making?!

Such cultivation…he has reached the very edge of the second step, grasping for the Celestial Dao!”

To shape Dao into the Yellow Springs, creating a personal cycle of reincarnation, this was Wang Lin’s greatest prize after ten years of cultivation to shape his soul! This Dao was once a vague concept in Wang Lin’s mind but under the effect of the Ascending Fruit and his own power, a solid form was brought to life.

This was the most critical step in Wang Lin’s path. Now he truly had his own Dao! From this moment on, he no longer cultivated Heaven, nor Earth, nor Immortals, nor Gods. He was now a Daoist.

The Yellow Springs River churned and twisted, dragging the demon generals back towards its source. Trapped within, they struggled, their combined efforts creating ripples in the nascent river.

Wang Lin’s eyes flashed. Becoming a blur, he stepped into his Dao’s manifestation. And with him, the Yellow Springs became unshakeable!

“Those who seek my death shall enter my Yellow Springs, to be judged within my cycle, beyond the reach of Heaven and Earth!” Wang Lin proclaimed, his voice imbued with Dao, woven into the river, becoming the power of reincarnation itself.

With a final surge, the Yellow Springs vanished from the world, taking the demon generals with it.

Within the city, the scorpion of demon soldiers collapsed. Thirty thousand strands of slaughter energy danced through the city, reaping lives and collecting a trail of grey ash.

As Wang Lin strode towards the city, the ash swirled around him, forming a colossal grey cloak that billowed across the land.

The middle-aged commander on the ramparts was ashen, his lips cracked. He retreated, a sense of helplessness washing over him.

“I am, in my cultivation, equal to him. Yet, even with his wounds, I, who once thought myself his superior, do not even possess even one percent of the chance to survive… This man has found his Dao. The Yellow Springs…it is too terrifying. The Demon Emperor has trapped me here…”

Before he could finish the sentence, the commander reached into his robes, retrieving a small, black bone. As he crushed it, the bone emitted a soft light, enveloping him and teleporting him away.

These Blackbones allow generals to teleport back to the capital.

Wang Lin’s eyes filled with crimson light as he waved his right hand. The thirteen thousands strands of slaughter energy streaked through the sky!

At the moment when the middle-aged commander was teleported away, the strands of slaughter energy was immediately attached!

In the heart of Fire Demon County, a teleportation array of ornate design stood ready. This array was for the sole use of generals, and the Prefect of Fire Demon County sat in meditation nearby.

He opened his eyes, a slight smile gracing his lips. A general had returned.

“Which general will it be,” he said as he rose. His face changed as he stared at the teleportation array in a daze.
Within the shimmering glyphs of the arcane array, a withered husk, a desiccated corpse, plummeted from the ethereal void with a resounding thud. Its sunken eyes, though lifeless, were wide open, hinting at a profound and unsettled demise.

The death of a Vice-Marshal was a cataclysmic event for any fiefdom within the Demon-Spirit Lands. In the Fire Demon County, the Demon Emperor’s enraged roar echoed through the imperial capital.

“Find him! Discover the whereabouts of this sorcerer at once! Slay him! I care not who he is, I will have his life!”

Meanwhile, Wang Lin departed the city bordering the Sky Demon County, bearing with him the chilling aura of a hundred thousand slain foes.

The potent energy of the Ascension Fruit still coursed through his veins. The relentless slaughter had not diminished his battle fervor; instead, it intensified it. His thirst for vengeance grew ever stronger.

He transformed into a blazing comet, a harbinger of doom, and hurtled across the Thousand Demon Peaks, driven towards the place he sensed drawing him onward!

The chilling whisper had ceased its haunting presence. Wang Lin’s body, nourished by the earth’s vitality, had recovered, and the life force emanating from the slaughterous aura spurred him onward, closer to the legendary Gan Peak.

Within a forgotten battlefield, nestled within an ancient pagoda, a suit of armor, missing a bracer, gleamed with an eerie luminescence. Before it knelt an aged figure draped in shadows. It was he who had once rescued the one called Tiger Roar.

“I grant you three pieces of demon-forged armor! Halt his progress! He must not set foot upon this hallowed battlefield!”

The disembodied voice resonated with power. From the armor, a bracer, a breastplate, and a pauldron materialized and flew forth!

As the three pieces took flight, they dissolved into strands of ebony silk, burrowing into the elder’s flesh. Dark sigils bloomed upon his skin, writhing like living entities, before finally coalescing into a complete suit of black armor.

The armor was simple in its design, yet it pulsed with infernal flames. Within those flames, a diminutive shadow, the size of a man’s forearm, manifested. Upon its head, a single horn, identical to the creature Wang Lin had once vanquished.

The shadow dove into the elder’s brow, causing him to convulse in agony. Veins bulged on his face, and a tortured cry escaped his lips, echoing from the pagoda and rippling across the ancient battlefield.

At long last, the elder shuddered, and a spectral light flickered in his eyes. He bowed low and intoned with chilling reverence, “Your Demon Servant obeys!”

“Go then,” the voice emanating from the armor was now faint, the luminous glow dimmed, laced with a hint of exhaustion.

The elder said nothing more. He rose and strode from the pagoda. Upon emerging, he gazed into the distant void, and after a moment’s contemplation, he commanded, “Demon Guards, appear!”

His words unleashed a violent gale upon the ancient battlefield, a wind of such icy malevolence that the very earth seemed to freeze under its touch.

The gale spiraled around the elder and coalesced into a female warrior clad in full plate. Her face bore an intricate tattoo that snaked across her body, hidden beneath her armor.

She knelt, her voice a soft whisper, “Demon Guard, Wind Lament, at your service!” Had Wang Lin been present, he would have recognized a striking resemblance to the Demon General, Wicked Lotus.

The ground then trembled, followed by a series of heavy thuds. Ten paces before the elder, the earth cracked open, and a skeletal hand, pitch-black, clawed its way to the surface.

A gaunt, wizened figure emerged from the depths, hunched and feral. He tilted his head, leering at the elder, and grinned, revealing yellowed teeth, “Demon Guard, Earth Fiend, reporting!”

From the distant horizon, an ethereal mist billowed forth, filled with countless wailing souls. The souls surged, blotting out the sky, forming a swirling vortex, a dense cloud of despair. Within the funnel, a somber youth strode forth, each step marked by the cries of the tormented spirits that swarmed around him.

“Demon Guard, Tiger Roar, here!”