The ancient seal, it was discovered, could not be shattered by a singular, focused strike. Rather, its destruction demanded a dispersed assault, a furious and instantaneous pummeling of every point at once. Only in this manner could the imprisoning magic be undone.

Weakness would render the attempt futile. Yet, Wang Lin’s million-fold spirit of slaughter, cultivated and nurtured over a decade, was imbued with an awe-inspiring power.

It could be said that with the burgeoning of this slaughter-spirit, it had eclipsed even the Finger of Extinction, becoming another lethal technique in Wang Lin’s arsenal. It stood alongside the Demonic Finger, unleashed only when clad in the devil-forged armor, and the Path-Born Yellow Springs, as one of his three ultimate abilities.

As for the Art of Stillness, it was a life-saving trick kept in reserve. Having experimented with it only twice, Wang Lin resolved to keep this spell deeply hidden. For it was through its unexpected deployment, when none anticipated its use, that it could truly safeguard his life in times of dire need.

Like a torrential rain, the millionfold slaughter-spirit descended from the heavens. Instantly, the demonic veil surrounding the Fiery Demon Prefecture’s capital city echoed with a barrage of explosive sounds. It was as if a million blades of merciless energy had struck simultaneously. In mere moments, the pounding grew into a cacophony, a continuous and deafening rumble.

The demonic veil shuddered violently. Wang Lin, his expression unchanging, stood beyond its confines, watching with cold detachment.

Before long, cracks began to appear upon the veil’s surface, multiplying until, with a final, shattering roar, it collapsed utterly. The millionfold slaughter-spirit surged through the breach, filling the city with an oppressive grey haze.

With the veil shattered, Wang Lin advanced. Unprotected, the demonic valley at the city’s heart erupted with a vortex of unholy energy, forming a swirling, violet mist in the air. The mist coalesced into a colossal demonic specter, horned and fearsome. Its fathomless eyes, filled with a chilling malice, gazed down upon Wang Lin as if he were a mere ant.

“Insolent mortal,” the specter boomed, its voice echoing with the chill of the abyss, “though you are shielded by that fool Bellow, you dare defile my demonic veil? Your doom is assured!”

With a flick of its ethereal hand, the world twisted. In an instant, the Fiery Demon Prefecture vanished, replaced by a landscape painted entirely in shades of red, the red of roaring flames.

Lava rivers scarred the ground, their infernal light turning the sky into a blazing, crimson canvas.

Amidst the echoing detonations, jets of searing steam erupted from the earth, each manifesting as a ghostly figure. Soon, a hundred phantasmal warriors stood before the ancient demon.

Wang Lin raised his right hand. In a surge, the millionfold slaughter-spirit surged into him, coalescing at his brow into the brand of life. The myriad symbols layered upon each other until Wang Lin was covered head to toe in its power.

Then, with a gesture, he summoned forth the devil-forged armor. Like living shadow, it swirled around him, transforming into a suit of black, jagged plates. His face concealed behind a visor, only his eyes, burning with icy determination, remained visible. His long hair streamed behind him as he rose from the ground and surged forward.

The phantom warriors before the ancient demon snarled, unleashing a barrage of spells to halt Wang Lin’s advance. But with a glint in his eyes, Wang Lin accelerated, his speed reaching blinding levels. At the same time, he extended a finger, and the Finger of Extinction ripped through the air like a bolt of divine lightning.

He ignored the attacks of the phantom warriors. The devil-forged armor, saturated in demonic energy, deflected them. Moreover, the millionfold life-brands provided an additional layer of protection, rendering their blows inconsequential.

With the speed of a wraith, he hurtled towards the violet mist that had birthed the colossal ancient demon.

A sneer twisted the demon’s face. “Armor of a fallen demon from the seat of the ancient devils,” it scoffed, “but you lack a demonic heart. To wear such power is a mere waste!” With an earth-shattering roar, the demon unleashed a wave of demonic energy, a concussive blast that slammed towards Wang Lin.

Wang Lin’s eyes blazed. Again, he extended his right hand, whispering, “Transform!” At his word, the devil-forged armor seemed to pulse with joy, unleashing torrents of demonic energy. The dark power flooded Wang Lin, rushing through his veins and surging into the extended finger.

In that moment, Wang Lin became a whirlwind of demonic power, his hair whipping around him. He was truly transformed, a demon incarnate. This was the pinnacle of the Demonic Transformation, magnified by the power of the devil-forged armor.

The demonic gale erupted from his finger, a vortex of dark power that tore through the demon’s sonic assault.

Yet the demon’s sneer remained. As the demonic gale crashed into it, the demon simply devoured the blast. It licked its lips, a glint in its eyes. “Not bad,” it rumbled. “This demonic energy is surprisingly pure.” Wang Lin, cold and implacable, was now a mere hundred paces from the demon, having closed the distance by ten.

The demon regarded Wang Lin with a strange fascination. Suddenly, its colossal form shifted, unleashing a torrent of pure demonic power. Woven into the energy was the demon’s own will, a devastating force that compressed the space within a hundred paces of the demon.

Wang Lin’s armor groaned under the crushing weight. Demonic power bled away, fading into wisps. Wang Lin drew a deep breath and spoke calmly, “Become the Path.” From the very ground beneath his feet, a river of Yellow Springs, the path of souls, erupted. It sliced through the crushing force, carving a path through the distorted reality. The river of souls swirled around him, a shimmering shroud of reincarnation.

Wang Lin strode forward, gaining another ten paces.

The ancient demon snarled and lunged with a clawed hand. The air cracked with demonic energy. Wang Lin’s remaining demonic energy dissipated, shrinking back to a thin thread. The millionfold life-brands erupted with blinding light. Wang Lin roared, stepping *into* the demon’s grasp.

*BOOM!*

The sky quaked as a sound of indescribable power reverberated. The ancient demon’s hand, struck by Wang Lin’s charge, recoiled. Over seventy percent of the millionfold life-brands shattered, yet they were instantly reborn in a continuous, unbroken surge.

And Wang Lin, in defiance of all fate, gained another ten paces.
The Ancient Demon’s derision withered, replaced by a frigid, calculating malice. He had previously regarded Wang Lin as a mere plaything, but as the mortal drew closer, a disquieting premonition began to stir within his ancient soul.

“Bero would not send this insect without purpose,” the Ancient Demon hissed, a flicker of murder in his eyes. He was loath to unleash his ancient power, for each use exacted a heavy toll.

“Demon Art: Demon Slayer!” With a guttural incantation, the Ancient Demon’s hands wove a complex sigil. Demonic energy, swirling like miniature maelstroms, erupted from his being, coalescing into a potent spell.

The lava-scorched earth throbbed, shuddering violently. A torrent of heat exploded forth, gathering before the Ancient Demon, solidifying into a gargantuan spear.

Crimson as freshly spilled blood, the weapon pulsed with a palpable demonic aura, laced with the searing heat of the underworld.

The moment the spear manifested, a wave of agonizing dread washed over Wang Lin. His eyes narrowed, but his stride did not falter. He pressed onward, covering ten paces in a single bound. His right hand flashed to his brow, then thrust forward. “A million deaths, coalesced as one!” he whispered. A million soul-marks, each a testament to lives extinguished, were drawn forth from his mind, a shimmering stream of crimson energy. They merged, intertwined, and ultimately became a single, distilled essence of slaughter.

This solitary thread of carnage, imbued with a killing intent that would have unnerved even Skyreach Daoist, coalesced at the tip of Wang Lin’s finger. Again, he surged forward, closing the distance to within fifty paces of the Ancient Demon.

As he entered that deadly zone, Wang Lin’s eyes blazed with an unnatural light. He chanted a torrent of arcane syllables, a tongue of the ancient demons, and with his left hand, he traced a sigil – a mark gifted by the Ancient Demon Bero himself.

His bargain with Bero was twofold: first, to pierce the demonic barrier, and second, to unleash this sigil within fifty paces of the target. These steps, if accomplished, would fulfill the greater part of their agreement.

For Wang Lin, in his current state, could never hope to defeat an Ancient Demon in open combat.

The entirety of this conflict was orchestrated to drain the Fire Demon Prefecture of its defenders, leaving the capital vulnerable. Only then could Wang Lin hope to confront the Ancient Demon directly, to breach his fifty-pace sanctuary.

The moment the sigil manifested upon Wang Lin’s left hand, his body convulsed. A torrent of blood spewed forth from his mouth, followed by a sickening series of cracks and pops as veins burst within him, creating a crimson mist around his form.

The Ancient Demon’s expression shifted for the first time, his face contorted with horrified realization. His eyes locked onto the bloody haze surrounding Wang Lin. He spoke, his voice a guttural rasp: “This blood… it carries the essence of a God of Old! So that is the plan.” The bloody mist began to coalesce, forming a crude effigy of a man. An overbearing divine presence descended from the heavens, enveloping the construct, and the bloody figure opened its eyes!

In that instant, every living creature within the Fire Demon Prefecture felt a wave of disquiet wash over them. Only a few understood the source of this unease, while the vast majority were consumed by a nameless dread.

In the surrounding seven prefectures, the remaining Ancient Demon vestiges felt the change, their fading consciousness snapping to attention, their gazes drawn towards the capital of the Fire Demon Prefecture.

“Your fortune runs deep, to find a mortal bearing the essence of an Ancient God. With his blood, and the link you share, you can solidify a corporeal form beyond the confines of the Sky Demon Prefecture,” the lingering shadow of the Fire Demon lamented.

“We have been scattered for too long,” a cold, detached voice echoed from within the bloody effigy. It was Bero. “Continuation will only lead to our extermination. Our fusion will birth a new Ancient Demon, and I shall consume the remaining seven, one by one.”