The spirit of Shen the Monkey, alas, had been devoured by the fiendish beasts, not even its nascent soul had escaped their vile clutches…” Wu the Horse lamented, his face clouded with sorrow as he spoke to Chen the Dragon.

Chen’s face tightened with bitter resignation. Of the Twelve Swords of the Celestial Zodiac, save for the fallen Wei the Sheep and the absent Zi the Rat and Hai the Pig, nine had followed the treacherous Tanlang to this forsaken tide-worn land.

Tanlang had declared, after his own cunning appraisal, that this place held the greatest treasure of the entire Demon Spirit realm. Aside from Chen, the disciples of the Great Luo Sword Sect were easily swayed by Tanlang’s silver tongue.

They had witnessed with their own eyes the endless stream of coveted artifacts and strange wonders swept from the Eastern Sea’s tides into the maw of this blighted land. Their purpose in venturing here, beyond seeking the ancient demon inheritances, was to claim those very treasures and wonders.

Chen, ever cautious, sensed a foulness afoot but lacked concrete reason to refuse. He had, however, enacted a safeguard. He divided the company, sending three disciples led by Chou the Ox in a separate direction, maintaining contact between them. He had also wisely left Zi the Rat and Hai the Pig to guard their retreat.

Their entry into the tide-worn land had been smooth, until Tanlang produced some unholy trinket from a hidden grotto. Then, all was changed!

They were beset by monstrous, aberrant beasts and trapped, unable to escape. A century had passed thus!

A century, though vast in the mortal realm, was but a blink to immortals. Yet, trapped in this abyss without sun or moon, confined by swirling shadows, any foray outside brought the wrath of countless ravenous beasts.

Their brother, Shen the Monkey, had fallen in a desperate assault. Even his dying act, unleashing their master’s sword-aura, had slain but a handful. The beasts without were simply too numerous.

Chen knew that even a combined assault of their accumulated sword-aura would not cleave a path to freedom.

“This cannot continue!” Chen declared, drawing a deep breath and rising to face Tanlang.

His action spurred the remaining four disciples of the Great Luo Sword Sect to their feet. They formed a ring, encircling Tanlang.

Tanlang, his face a mask of unchanging gloom, chuckled raspily. “What is the meaning of this, esteemed nephews?”

“Venerable Tanlang,” Chen began, his voice a low rumble, “we would know what you found in that cave!”

A flicker of sardonic amusement danced in Tanlang’s eyes. “You would know?” With a flick of his wrist, he retrieved an oval egg from his storage pouch.

The egg was devoid of life, cloaked instead in an aura of chilling death.

Chen’s gaze lingered on the egg. He had come to understand Tanlang somewhat. The elder seemed to draw strength from the energies of death, a practice that might be considered… acceptable.

But whether what Tanlang had truly discovered was this egg remained open to speculation.

“Little whelps,” Tanlang snarled, “I bear the goodwill to your master, Ling Tianhou, so I shall overlook your insolence this once. But dare to question me again, and you shall face my wrath! I walked this earth before you were born. None who speak to me thus live to tell the tale!” A flicker of icy rage ignited in his eyes. Though his tone remained light, the words crashed upon the ears of the Great Luo Sword Sect disciples like thunder. All but Chen flinched back in fear.

Chen bowed his head, a glint of cold calculation in his eyes. “Forgive us, Venerable One. We are simply desperate, for we have languished here for near a century.”

“Patience, little fools. Your master will arrive here within a century more and pull you from this pit.” Tanlang closed his eyes, dismissing them.

Chen settled back to the ground, his mind ablaze. He had long suspected a foul game in Tanlang’s heart. The elder seemed content to remain, and there must be a reason!

Meanwhile, as discord brewed between the Great Luo Sword Sect and Tanlang, Wang Lin raced with frantic speed toward the tide-worn exit of the Fire Demon County. He had heard tell of this tide-swept chasm from Yao Xixue.

According to her, the very token that had stirred envy in the heart of Tian Yunzi himself lay hidden within.

Thus, knowing that Tanlang and the Great Luo Sword Sect had vanished a century ago, Wang Lin could weave a daring guess. That Tanlang’s group had fallen victim to the same fate.

If they had escaped this realm, then so be it, but if they remained trapped, then Wang Lin would prepare a fitting trap at the Fire Demon County’s only means of escape for any survivors.

Propelled by grand teleportation techniques, he soared toward the tide-swept passage he had marked in his crystal.

As he flew, Wang Lin’s mind recalled that strange union with the Grey Silhouette within the ancient demon inheritance’s realm…

The Grey Silhouette possessed the Slaughter Immortal Art. In the instant of their union, Wang Lin had experienced an epiphany. His own killing intent, vast as it was, had surged from a million-fold to ten million!

Yet, upon reaching this monstrous level, the sigils of his life force, in a bizarre and horrifying ritual, had begun to meld and coalesce into a single, dreadful brand!

This brand, saturated with ten million slaughters, had appeared instantly and, defying Wang Lin’s control, seared itself upon his brow, at the center of his mind.

The mark pierced his flesh, burning itself into the depths of his nascent soul, drawing forth the ambient energies of heaven and earth which were entwined to the soul. In some strange and terrifying transformation, the link between his soul and flesh was severed completely.

Then, within three breaths, his soul began to dissolve, devoured utterly by the mark. Next, the very essence of his flesh withered, transmuted into wisps of grey mist, likewise consumed by the mark.

Wang Lin, an unwilling observer, had witnessed this all, felt this all, and now, the horror ignited in his eyes a glacial rage and a lust for vengeance without end.

He had seen his flesh and soul, his very essence, devoured by the mark born of ten million slaughters. Then, like a parasite bursting forth from its host, the brand emerged, leaving behind a hollow husk.

The brand, redolent with the stink of death and gore, hovered for a moment, then burst in a cacophony, spreading the slaughtering aura.

This… this was true Slaughter.
A tremor ran through Wang Lin’s spirit, a chilling echo of the past. Though days had passed, and he now soared through the heavens, the memory still seized him with icy fingers.

He exhaled slowly, a glint of frost and killing intent flashing in his eyes, quickly suppressed and hidden away. The vision within that strange realm remained a mystery, truth veiled in illusion. Yet, based on his understanding of the Slaughter Immortal Art, Wang Lin felt a profound certainty – it was real.

In that bizarre state of enlightenment, Wang Lin recalled the sensation of time itself bending around him, allowing him to, in an instant, perfect a single magical art. This granted him a deeper understanding than ever before. For those blessed with supreme talent, this experience could even birth entirely new spells, forged in the fires of countless simulations, perfected until they reached an apex of power.

Sun Yun was such a prodigy.

Wang Lin, though transformed by nearly eight centuries and imbued with a celestial physique, still paled in comparison to Sun Yun, whose genius even astonished the Ancient Demons.

He could not create his own magic, but through his keen intellect and sharp observation, he awakened from that strange realm sooner than most. With a decisiveness even Sun Yun lacked, he merged with the fleeting, grey phantom.

Sun Yun himself had only awakened after most of the phantoms had faded.

Wang Lin’s bold choice was beyond the reach of ordinary men. Even Celestial Lord was unlikely to have foreseen Wang Lin’s acquisition of the Slaughter Immortal Art’s secrets within the Ancient Demon’s inheritance.

“Celestial Lord!” Wang Lin’s voice was as cold as the winds of the Nine Hells, echoing in the void. “I once vowed that if you did not betray me, I would never betray you…”

“The Slaughter Immortal Art is indeed a remarkable magic. Yet, Celestial Lord, you are far too cruel. It is fortunate my comprehension was limited to only a million killings. Had I comprehended deeper, reaching tens of millions, I would have become nothing more than an imprint, a pure essence of slaughter to be absorbed!”

Wang Lin expelled a long breath as he flew.

“The grey-robed Celestial Lord once told me that he gifted me the Slaughter Immortal Art because of my intent… Now, connecting the past to the present, it seems that centuries ago, when I achieved Spirit Transformation on Vermillion Bird Star, Celestial Lord sensed my understanding of the cycles of life and death, sparking his desire to take me as a disciple!”

Wang Lin closed his eyes, then opened them, his gaze clear. With a flicker, his form vanished.

“I am becoming consumed by this matter. I cannot rush to judgment. Celestial Lord has shown me favor, and choosing the Slaughter Immortal Art was my own decision, though his influence was undeniable… I must tread carefully, and unless I have the power to confront him, I cannot let him know what I suspect… But this Slaughter Immortal Art… I must study it closely and seek a way to unravel its mysteries!”

At the exit of the Tide Abyss beyond the Fire Demon Prefecture, Wang Lin lingered for several days. He did not establish powerful formations or seals, but instead, did the opposite, leaving simple, yet concealed, enchantments.

These enchantments possessed no offensive capabilities, yet served as tracking devices. Should anyone emerge from the abyss, only those of exceeding power could avoid being marked, allowing Wang Lin to sense their passing.

Having completed this task, Wang Lin cast aside all distractions and sped towards the Water Demon Prefecture, intending to enter the abyss from that passage and search for Zhou Yi with the full extent of his divine sense!

Zhou Yi had shown him kindness, and Wang Lin was determined to repay that debt.

“Besides rescuing Senior Zhou Yi, there is also… that wealthy merchant…” Wang Lin’s eyes flashed as he traveled. He clearly remembered glimpsing Ju Fu within the Eastern Sea’s tide.

Several days later, in the western reaches of the Water Demon Prefecture, lay a region known as the Cloud Sea. Perpetually shrouded in mists, its depths concealed a vast, multi-mile-long fissure – one of the gateways to the Tide Abyss!

Two men and two women, four cultivators in total, stood at the edge of the Cloud Sea, peering into its depths.