Within the Obsidian Spire, the spectral gleam upon the ancient armor flared with an intensity never before witnessed. And within that unnatural luminescence, a flicker of fear! Such a thing had been unheard of for countless ages.

“That handprint… it is *his*! Could this one be connected to him? Has… has *he* arrived here as well?!” Panic surged within the being’s divine consciousness.

Normally, its resolve was unshakeable, its spirit impervious to terror. Yet, the specter of *that* individual haunted its core, a presence so terrifying, so utterly dreadful, that even with its vast power, the mere thought sent shivers down its ethereal spine.

“The handprint deviates in many ways, yet it bears a seventy percent resemblance to *his* arcane art… Is this mere coincidence? Or is it…”

“WANG LIN!!!” The heavens themselves roared with the utterance of a name. It was a single voice, yet it carried the weight of a billion souls, a cacophony of lament and rage fused into a single, earth-shattering cry.

The sound ripped across the firmament, creating a chain reaction of sonic booms, twisting the very fabric of reality. The echo of that singular word reverberated across the land.

Within Wang Lin, the invasive tendrils of the Ascendant Fruit loosened their grip upon his core essence, stirred by the furious sound. Though his eyes still burned with a crimson inferno, a glimmer of lucidity, rare and precious, sparked within.

He turned, facing the source of the sonic onslaught. A wave of inky darkness consumed the horizon, a swirling vortex of tormented spirits, each one brimming with malevolent power, their combined wails a symphony of madness. Beneath this swirling abyss of souls, a figure strode through the void. Clad in raiments of night, his face unremarkable, yet etched with a hatred that burned brighter than any star, he fixed his gaze upon Wang Lin. His teeth clenched, he hissed, “Wang Lin, do you remember me?”

Clarity now gleamed within Wang Lin’s eyes, he studied the newcomer carefully. His voice, deep and resonant, cut through the storm. “Hu Pao.”

“You *do* remember!” Hu Pao unleashed a torrent of maniacal laughter, the sound contorting his features into a mask of pure malice. Above him, the swirling cloud of souls writhed and pulsed in response, unleashing a wave of oppressive power that threatened to suffocate the very air.

“You never thought this day would come, did you, Wang Lin? That *I*, Hu Pao, would stand before you like this. Once, you were an insurmountable force, an untouchable god in my eyes. Now, you are nothing more than an insect beneath my heel!” Hu Pao’s voice dripped with venom as he savored the years of pent-up resentment. He would not rush. He would savor this moment.

“Indeed,” Wang Lin replied, his tone devoid of any emotion. “I did not.”

“You abandoned Thirteen and me to rot! Do you have any idea the torment we suffered? Especially me! That wretch of a commander crushed every bone in my body, ripped apart every sinew!

“In the darkness of that forsaken cell, I was subjected to endless torment and humiliation. And where were you then?

“When I cried out your name, begging for salvation, where were you?! In your eyes, Thirteen and I were nothing but pawns in your game! Thirteen, the fool, never even saw your true face!”

Hu Pao’s voice reached a fever pitch, and the souls above responded with a deafening roar.

“But the heavens have granted me a second chance. They led me to my master, who showed me the path to power. Here, I mastered the art of Soul Reaving, and now, I command an army of a billion souls. Today, Wang Lin, you will die! But I will not grant you the mercy of a swift end. I will imprison your soul within your ravaged body, and cast you into the most wretched dungeon in all the Nine Realms, where you will endure endless degradation, denied even the release of death!

“Then, I will tear your soul from its cage and imprison it within a Soul Banner, where I will torment you for eternity!”

Hu Pao’s eyes flashed with a predatory gleam, and he continued, “Did you ever imagine that one day, someone would use the very arts you taught them to bring about your demise? Do you know the taste of a billion souls feasting upon your essence?”

“And after your soul has been consumed, I will return to the Soul Reaving tribe and turn everyone within into another spirit to feed my growing cloud!” Hu Pao trembled, a convulsion fueled by pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

“So, you hate me that much,” Wang Lin finally said, his voice slow and measured.

“Hate? Of course, I hate you! Hu Pao was never destined for mediocrity. With this art, with this legion of souls, I will ascend to the apex of power in this Realm of Spirits! You are not worthy to be my master, never were! You *must* die!”

Hu Pao’s laughter echoed through the ravaged landscape, a sound of unbridled triumph. He possessed the power to back his words, and the army of a billion souls was a testament to his claims.

Nearly all of the specters contained in his cloud were spirits from the ancient battlefield, each possessed formidable power in life. Some were even remnants of Spirit Commanders.

“With this Soul Banner in my grasp, who can stand against me? Only my master, the one who saved my life. None can stop me! A billion souls are but a stepping stone. My goal is ten billion, a hundred billion! I will forge a Tenth Realm within this Realm of Spirits, and I, Hu Pao, will be its first Spirit Emperor!”

Wang Lin regarded Hu Pao calmly, his gaze unwavering. “So, you seek to kill me, but hatred is only part of the equation. The rest is the desire to eradicate all who practice Soul Reaving. So that your unique, and formidable powers can not be used by others that will rival you.”

Hu Pao’s smile was a venomous thing. “You always did see through me, didn’t you, former master? Yes, I hate you for using me as a pawn. But what I hate even more is how others took your dislike of me and used it to hurt me because you were powerful and I wasn’t! I swore, from the moment I was rescued, that I would gain power. I would surpass you, and then I would kill you myself!”
“Initially, Wang, I confess, harbored some bewilderment. Your natural gifts are undeniable, surpassing even those of the Crimson Butterfly I encountered long ago. Yet, a mere decade should not suffice to reach such heights, to contain and command so many souls. But now, the truth is unveiled! You have embraced an arcane art, a forbidden path that ignites dormant potential, accelerates the very flame of life. You shall ascend to a peak of power, a zenith of might, but its duration…ah, its brevity will be your undoing. I wager it shall not endure even a single day…”

“Silence!” Tiger Roar’s countenance contorted in fury. With a gesture skyward, a swathe of ebony mist severed itself from the swirling soul-cloud, coalescing into a legion of a million spirits. He unleashed them upon Wang Lin with a vengeful shriek.

“Behold, a million souls! A spectacle, I wager, your meager existence has never witnessed!” Tiger Roar’s laughter echoed with maniacal glee.

Within the confines of the Immortal Sword, Xu Liguo overheard their exchange with perfect clarity. He gazed upon Tiger Roar with scornful amusement. “The whelp knows not the currents he navigates. Your esteemed Xu-Grandfather has failed to betray this fiend countless times. Should you succeed where I have faltered, I shall renounce my very name! I shall become…Tiger Liguo!”

Betrayal, he mused, was a treacherous art, demanding cunning and foresight. Especially when the target was this harbinger of doom. The boy believed it a simple task? Foolishness!

Wang Lin lifted his gaze to the heavens. A million souls, unified in darkness, descended upon him with a deafening roar. It was a sight he had not beheld in ages. Each spirit, contorted in rage, howled with an insatiable hunger, a desire to obliterate all that stood before them.

Wang Lin sighed, extending his right hand towards the encroaching darkness. Upon his palm, an ancient rune pulsed with ethereal light.

The million souls, poised to devour, froze in unison. Every spectral eye locked upon the glowing sigil, their advance halted as if by an unseen force. Even Tiger Roar was momentarily stunned by the surreal tableau.

“Soul Manipulation Art… you wield it incorrectly,” Wang Lin murmured. With a flick of his wrist, the million souls were suffused with a newfound reverence. Though Tiger Roar considered himself their master, the sight of the rune revealed a deeper truth. This man, Wang Lin, was their true liege.

“This…this cannot be! It’s impossible!” Panic consumed Tiger Roar as the connection to his million souls severed without warning. His face twisted in disbelief as he roared, “A BILLION SOULS, CONSUME HIM!”

In response, the endless black cloud above surged downwards, unleashing a tidal wave of billions of souls. The very fabric of reality seemed consumed by their spectral forms, an infinite sea of despair.

Tiger Roar’s face was a mask of savage anticipation, envisioning Wang Lin being utterly devoured.

As the billion souls closed in, Wang Lin released a wave of his divine sense, encompassing the horde. The flaw in the Soul Manipulation Art, a secret he had deliberately woven into its fabric, bloomed into reality. Any soul once touched by Wang Lin’s teaching now belonged to him, utterly and irrevocably.

The billion souls shuddered, a newfound respect replacing their hunger. They encircled Wang Lin, forming a protective shield of darkness around him. Tiger Roar stood alone, his eyes glazed with horror, the spectral army he commanded had vanished in an instant.

The contrast was jarring, the reversal absolute. Tiger Roar’s mind reeled, struggling to comprehend the impossible.

“Your Soul Manipulation Art,” Wang Lin said with a voice that was firm but almost regretful, “has been altered, refined for greater flexibility. But the core, the foundation, requires true lineage, millennia of sacred rites. It cannot be reshaped so casually, with mere decades of study.”

Wang Lin was a scion of the Soul Refining Sect, a direct descendant of their ancient traditions. The Soul Banner was their sacred emblem, and the Soul Manipulation Art, though not a world-shattering spell, was the product of countless generations of meticulous refinement. Tiger Roar’s patron, powerful as he was, could not replicate such a legacy. Perhaps the armored figure could, but such a being would not waste its energies on such trivial matters.

“How…how can this be?” Tiger Roar’s voice was strained with disbelief. “My benefactor swore he had corrected the flaw!” His eyes, wide with madness, fixed on the souls surrounding Wang Lin. “Souls, return! I command you!”

His voice cracked with desperation, but the souls around Wang Lin remained unmoving, offering only their silent, reverent obedience.

“SOULS! RETURN AT ONCE!!” Tiger Roar shrieked, but his cries went unanswered.

In a fit of rage, Tiger Roar staggered, vomiting a torrent of blood. For over a decade, he had toiled tirelessly to refine his spectral army, his confidence swelling with each captured soul. Upon amassing his billion-strong legion, he had convinced himself of his invincibility, of his power to overthrow all, to slay Wang Lin and claim his place.

Now, that dream lay shattered, the fruits of years of labor gifted to his enemy. The burning resentment consumed him, pushing him to the brink of oblivion.

“Wang Lin! I will kill you!” Tiger Roar roared, his face contorted in rage. He was more broken than Wang Lin after consuming the Ascension Fruit.

Hope had ignited his heart, but its extinction had plunged him into utter despair.

Wang Lin’s eyes reflected a mixture of pity and weariness. With a sigh, he waved his hand. “You betrayed because of me. I shall grant you a glimpse of true Soul Banner power before your end.”

The ten billion Soul Banners materialized from his storage bag. As they unfurled, the surrounding billion souls trembled, merging with unnatural speed. In the blink of an eye, a billion spectral entities became one.

A single, crystalline soul, pulsating with immense power, materialized. It unleashed a single, devastating punch towards Tiger Roar.

The strike landed, and Tiger Roar’s body and soul shattered into fragments, ceasing to be.

Wang Lin sighed once more, drawing the single, crystalline soul and the remaining Soul Banners back into the storage bag. His eyes, once clear, clouded with an inner struggle. He focused his gaze on the distance, where a looming black tower pierced the sky.

At its base stood an armored figure, its gaze locked upon him.

Wang Lin averted his eyes from the figure, focusing instead on the black tower. He felt a palpable surge of pure, unadulterated demonic energy emanating from its depths, a power distinct from the corrupted energy of those who practiced demonic arts.
Awakening slammed into Wang Lin like a physical blow. His pupils contracted, focusing on the oppressive miasma that saturated the air. A vile magic, potent beyond measure, clung to the very stones. “A being of unimaginable power resides within that tower,” he murmured, drawing a shallow breath. His nascent soul had yet to fully integrate with its mortal coil, a union requiring the passage of half a moon before he could claim true mastery over his Ascendant Soul stage. Only then would his foundation be secure.

“The Ascension Fruit… its power is a tempest,” he exhaled, his gaze locked on the foreboding structure before him. “While it granted me the strength to stand against that one, it also plunged me into a madness I had never known…”

Before the tower, a sentinel clad in ebon armor took a single stride. The earth groaned in protest, tremors rippling outwards to buffet Wang Lin’s feet.

“Late Ascendant Soul stage… yet, something is amiss. His true cultivation is veiled, masked by the enchantment of that armor!” The clarity of his eyes flickered, as the Ascension Fruit’s insidious influence clawed its way back, threatening to drown his consciousness in a tide of frenzy.

A glacial light ignited in Wang Lin’s eyes. “Enough!” he hissed, forcefully suppressing the fruit’s raging spirit. Raising his right hand skyward, he commanded the very heavens. With a deafening roar, a celestial river manifested from thin air, cleaving a shimmering path across the vault of the sky.

In swift succession, his left hand traced a point between his brows. A golden spark pulsed there, flowing along the channels of his meridian until it gathered at the tip of his outstretched finger – the incandescent Sword Qi of Lord Ling Tian manifested, a sliver of celestial wrath made manifest!

The black-armored guardian, sensing the shift in the air, halted in his advance.