Wang Lin scoffed, his form blurring as he瞬移ed beside the mist wraith. Fingers like blades, quicker than the wraith itself, he struck its brow. Power surged, and the beast erupted in a mist-filled explosion, its essence scattering.

But it did not dissipate. Instead, the fragments swirled, coalescing into ephemeral vapors, threatening to reform.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, arriving at the heart of the gathering mists. Divine lightning crackled at his fingertips.

A sphere of pure lightning formed, and as Wang Lin thrust his hand forward, it unleashed a torrent of raw power into the swirling vapors.

Explosions echoed. The mists shattered further, becoming wisps like fractured clouds. Wang Lin’s gaze sharpened. With a flick of his wrist, more lightning erupted, obliterating every remaining vestige.

The remaining mist wraiths, sensing their comrade’s demise, shrieked and surged towards the surrounding people. Wang Lin, unfazed, rose into the air. Raising a hand towards the heavens, he intoned, “Path of the Yellow Springs!”

The sky tore open, and a river of spectral yellow light cascaded down, originating from and returning to the void, heavy with the stench of forgotten souls.

Wang Lin stood upon this river, a lord of the Netherworld.

“Third Form: Yellow Springs’ Grip!”

An unimaginable force emanated from the spectral river, pulling at everything around it. The onrushing mist wraiths, caught in its inexorable grasp, were enveloped.

Not one, but almost all. They dissolved into mist, struggling to escape the pull, but powerless against its unrelenting force. They were drawn into the Yellow Springs.

“Immortal, no!” the ancient ancestor of the Chosen Clan cried out, his face etched with despair.

Wang Lin’s eyes pierced him. As the elder spoke, Wang Lin sensed the mists drawn into the Yellow Springs were not being destroyed, but merging into a singular form.

A vague silhouette materialized, its insides swirling mist, unreadable. But with its emergence, the Yellow Springs’ power seemed to falter. It stepped forth from the spectral river.

Its face was a blur, save for a single, glaring eye. The Chosen Clan elder descended from the sky, followed by his people. Seeing only the one eye, he sighed in relief and shouted to Wang Lin, “Immortal, return! We must unleash the Celestial Formation! This is a Zero-Form Wraith. Any attack it survives becomes useless against it!”

Wang Lin’s eyes flashed. He retreated swiftly, but the one-eyed wraith pursued relentlessly.

Cold fury ignited in Wang Lin’s eyes. Gathering his lightning, he conjured dozens of fist-sized orbs around him. With a gesture, they thundered towards the wraith.

As the lightning spheres neared, Wang Lin roared, “Condense!”

The orbs merged into a single, blinding blast. The wraith dissolved upon impact, only to reform instantly, unscathed. It raced towards Wang Lin, now infused with lightning. The energy radiating from its form mirrored Wang Lin’s own.

The borrowed lightning fueled its speed. It hurtled after Wang Lin like a vengeful spirit. Murderous intent blazed in Wang Lin’s eyes. He drew his celestial sword from his pouch and unleashed its power.

The Severing Luo incantation ripped through reality. The wraith staggered, a flicker of terror in its icy gaze. It attempted to retreat, but it was too late.

Silently, the wraith was cleaved in two. Mist erupted, accompanied by a tortured shriek. Wang Lin appeared beside the shattered form, unleashing the Severing Luo again and again.

The mist continued to dissipate, but with each strike, its resistance grew, its destruction slowing. It even began to reassemble.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed. With a gesture, he cried, “Bind!”

The Celestial Art of Imprisonment washed over the area. The reforming mist froze. The beast bone tattoo on Wang Lin’s hand pulsed, solidifying into its true form.

The enormous bone creature materialized, its eyes glowing with an unholy light. A palpable aura of death blanketed the world. The mists turned gray and began to petrify.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed. He thrust his fingers into the hardening mist, channeling his strength. The petrified form shattered, disintegrating into dust. The dust further crumbled into nothingness.

The Chosen Clan stared, their eyes wide with disbelief. They had never seen the wraiths, typically only killed by formations, destroyed so completely.

More astounding was the wraith’s utter helplessness against Wang Lin’s onslaught. It was broken, defeated, and extinguished.

Tashan, the hulking warrior who had been buried beneath Wang Lin’s fragmented seal, clawed his way out of the earth. He gazed up at Wang Lin, and his jaw dropped.
The very air shimmered, distorted by the power radiating from Wang Lin. A power utterly beyond the comprehension of the Skyborn clan, leaving even their ancient Elder, a weathered patriarch steeped in forgotten lore, speechless. He could only mouth a broken phrase, “The Withering of Mother and Child…”

Wang Lin turned from the dissipating essence of the mist-wraith, his gaze settling upon the Elder. His voice, though soft, resonated with an unyielding authority. “Now. Take me to the Obsidian Crucible.”

The Elder drew a shaky breath, his wizened face etched with a newfound respect bordering on awe. He bowed low. “By your command, Immortal One!” With a rustle of ancient robes, he ascended into the air, beckoning Wang Lin to follow as he guided the way towards the heart of their sprawling settlement.

Wang Lin followed with measured steps, his face an impassive mask. This time, no Skyborn dared obstruct his path. Ta Shan, the burly warrior who had challenged him earlier, rose, his eyes blazing with an intense light. With a powerful leap, he shot into the sky, pursuing them.

“Ta Shan, are you a fool?” The Elder spun around, his voice laced with anger. “Do you still seek to antagonize the Immortal? He spared your life before!”

Indeed, Wang Lin had shown restraint. He was still a stranger in this land, and reckless bloodshed could complicate matters. Otherwise, Ta Shan would already be feeding the earth.

“Honored Ancestor,” Ta Shan replied, his voice resonating with an unnatural calm. “Ta Shan understands his folly. I only wish to accompany the Immortal into the Obsidian Crucible. My knowledge of its depths is…extensive.”

The Elder’s brow furrowed. He was about to rebuke the warrior when Wang Lin spoke, his voice a calm ripple in the tense air. “Let him come. Lead the way.”

The Elder bowed his head, dismissing Ta Shan. He turned and resumed his flight, the three figures moving at a deliberate pace. After what felt like the passage of half a dawn, they arrived at an open clearing behind the Skyborn settlement. In the center stood a crumbling altar, etched with cracks and age. Beneath it, a towering gate of violet obsidian stood sentinel. A single, pulsating rune adorned its surface, flickering with an inner light.

The Elder descended before the gate, biting his fingertip and drawing a symbol in the air with his crimson blood. The symbol mirrored the rune on the gate, and as it flashed with a crimson light and merged with the obsidian, a deep, earth-shaking rumble echoed through the clearing. The gate slowly rose, revealing a yawning abyss of impenetrable blackness.

A chilling wind, laced with unnatural cold, wafted from the depths. It seemed to penetrate bone and marrow, a harbinger of decay that could inflict lasting harm upon those without sufficient spiritual fortitude.

The Elder stepped aside, his voice trembling slightly. “Immortal One, this… this is the entrance to the Obsidian Crucible.”

Wang Lin’s spiritual sense pierced the oppressive darkness, detecting a faint, lingering essence of immortal power, buried deep within the chilling aura.

“Proceed,” Wang Lin commanded, his voice devoid of emotion.

The Elder nodded and moved towards the entrance, but Ta Shan abruptly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. The Elder glared. “Ta Shan! What madness possesses you now?”

Ta Shan turned to Wang Lin, his voice a low rumble. “Immortal One, the cold here is intense. The Elder is ancient and frail. It is not fitting for him to endure such hardship. Allow me to guide you instead. It would be…an honor.”

The Elder bristled. “Though the cold is biting, my body is more than capable…”

Ta Shan ignored him, keeping his gaze fixed on Wang Lin. “Immortal One, I am the designated guardian of the altar. It is my right to lead you into its depths.”

Wang Lin’s eyes, piercing and sharp, lingered on Ta Shan. His gaze seemed to strip away the surface, revealing the warrior’s innermost thoughts.

Ta Shan met his gaze without flinching, his face an unreadable mask.

“Very well,” Wang Lin finally said, his voice flat.

Ta Shan turned and strode into the darkness without another word. A faint smile, touched with cold amusement, flickered across Wang Lin’s lips as he followed. The Elder, finally understanding Ta Shan’s true motives, released a weary sigh and settled down to meditate before the altar, resigned to his fate.

Within the entrance, a series of descending steps spiraled into the earth. As they descended, the chilling aura intensified, growing increasingly oppressive. After what felt like half a dawn, Ta Shan led Wang Lin to the bottom.

The moment Wang Lin’s foot touched the floor, his eyes narrowed.

The bottom was not merely a chamber, but a hidden world. The cavern stretched roughly a hundred paces in diameter. In its very center stood a massive cauldron, easily ten paces across, its surface covered in a bewildering array of intricate runes.