A chilling aura of dread permeated the air, gripping the hearts of the assembled cultivators. Such an unnatural slaughter had shaken them to their core. The elder, his face etched with weathered lines and bearing the insignia of Yang Solid perfection, wore a mask of deepest grimness. He sensed the intruder’s cultivation was nigh equal to his own, perhaps even exceeding it by a hair’s breadth. Yet, it was the foe’s uncanny ability, a spectral ‘Shen,’ that stirred true disquiet within him.

“This is no mere blink of teleportation, nor the grand art of dimensional shifting!” the old man muttered, his expression darkening. With a flick of his wrist, he drew forth a silver chime from his pouch of holding. Without pause, he shook it lightly, and a series of melodic chimes echoed, blossoming into vast, rippling waves that sought to disrupt the very weave of the heavens!

“Twenty-two remain,” hissed a voice, as swift as a phantom. Wang Lin materialized behind a cultivator at the pinnacle of the Questioning Heart stage. In the instant before oblivion consumed him, the cultivator’s eyes widened in horror. With a flick of his hand, the Executioner’s Spell erupted, not as a blade of light, but as a decree of annihilation. The cultivator was cleaved asunder, his body collapsing into ruin.

Wang Lin paid little heed to the slain cultivator’s soul, yet with a curl of black mist, he ensnared it within the Banner of Revered Souls. He cast a dark glance towards the chime-wielding elder. The artifact was imbued with arcane power, capable of agitating the celestial energies. Though it posed no immediate threat, prolonged exposure threatened to stifle his movements.

A cold snort escaped Wang Lin as a spectral figure flickered behind him. Ta Shan, heedless of the surrounding cultivators, charged towards the Yang Solid elder.

As Ta Shan lunged, his fist detonated forward, unleashing a cataclysm of sound. The elder met the onslaught head-on, the clash echoing through the battleground. Forced backward with each blow, the elder unleashed a torrent of arcane arts, his face drawn tight as waters before a storm.

Yet no spell, no artifact, could stir Ta Shan. He stood as a bulwark of iron and stone, impervious to pain, an unyielding instrument of destruction!

At the moment of Ta Shan’s charge, Wang Lin took a step forward. He did not meld into the void this time, instead, he opened his lips, and the Seal of Immortality emerged. Swollen to the size of a ten-foot giant, it descended from the heavens like the wrath of the gods.

A howling wind preceded the Seal, and two cultivators standing beneath it paled in fear. They sought to flee, but Wang Lin uttered a single, damning word: “Seal!” In response, golden runes erupted from the Seal, swirling and binding the would-be escapees with unfathomable speed.

The Seal crashed down, pulverizing their bodies into a gore-soaked ruin. Their spirits, shattered but not extinguished, were ensnared by the Seal’s golden script, pulled screaming into its heart.

Among the tens of thousands of golden runes adorning the Seal, two blazed with newfound, otherworldly light. These runes, animated as if by a life of their own, differed starkly from the others.

Wang Lin voiced a soft murmur of surprise. He had not anticipated such a peculiarity within the Seal. But this was not the time for contemplation. With a flash of murderous intent in his eyes, he vanished amidst the onrushing tide of cultivator spells.

His chilling laughter hung in the air, a spectral chill that crept into the hearts of those who remained.

Seven of the remaining cultivators were at the peak of the Questioning Heart stage. They trembled in terror, the name of Xu Mu ringing in their ears. Tales of his prowess and cruelty assailed their minds. Overwhelmed by dread, they turned and fled, cursing the orders of the Yao family that had brought them to this doomed intercept.

“You cannot escape,” Wang Lin’s voice echoed in the void. The celestial energies within a hundred feet of him twisted into a vortex of unimaginable force.

The seven fleeing cultivators were ripped from their illusory escapes. The moment they materialized, Wang Lin’s figure flickered, a comet of death flashing past each of them in turn.

Screams and the spray of blood painted the air. Their eyes glazed over in a final, frozen terror as their bodies exploded.

Wang Lin halted some distance away, licking his lips, his eyes gleaming with a crimson lust. He watched the remaining cultivators and said, “Thirteen remain!”

Those few remaining cultivators wore pale faces contorted with dread. Wang Lin, in their eyes, was no longer a man but a predatory wolf!

The name of Xu Mu echoed in their hearts. One Yin Solid cultivator, with a grimace of defiance, chanted an incantation. The vital energies within him churned, forming two luminous swords of pure white light that pulsed with power. With a gasp of spiritual energy, he infused the swords, making them keen enough to pierce the void itself.

Beside him, the last of the three Yang Solid cultivators roared, unleashing a storm of black needles from his pouch of holding. With a furious gesture, he hurled them towards Wang Lin.

Behind them, the other cultivators unleashed their respective arcane arts and lunged forward, their movements frantic.

They closed the distance with unnatural speed. Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed, and with a backward step, he faded from existence.

As he vanished, the Yang Solid cultivator spread his arms and howled: “Spatial Shift! Disrupt the Earth!”

Upon hearing these words, every surviving cultivator on the battlefield executed a near simultaneous shift in space. Their bodies flickered, barely present, as wave after wave of energy washed over the hundred-foot space. The energy focused, causing space to warp, making movement difficult at best.
“Cunning, but not enough!” Wang Lin strode forth, the ripples of space parting before him as if they held no power. The instant his form solidified, his right hand shot out, unerringly targeting a fleeing cultivator who, in a desperate gambit, had abandoned his physical shell.

With a thunderous crack, the cultivator’s discarded body erupted into a crimson mist. His nascent soul, however, had already fled, a shimmering wisp darting away for a hundred paces, never daring to look back.

“Fellow Daoist Xu Mu,” the escaping spirit shrieked, his voice tinged with terror, “From this moment on, every clan on Spiritveil Star shall forsake any involvement in the conflict between you and the Yao family! Grant me passage, I beseech thee!”

Wang Lin’s eyes glinted, but he did not pursue. From all around, the Solid Yang cultivators who had unleashed a barrage of black needles upon him snarled. A dark luminescence emanated from the projectiles, transforming them into a swarm of obsidian barbs hurtling toward Wang Lin like a poisoned rain.

With a chilling laugh, Wang Lin raised his right hand. Instantly, the intertwined, withering vines of the Sub-Mother Dao manifested, a miasma of death swirling around them. The approaching needles, touched by its aura, turned an ashen gray, hardening into brittle stone spikes.

Simultaneously, the deadly haze spread, enveloping even the Solid Yang cultivators themselves. Three of them, their feet momentarily illuminated by an unearthly gray glow, were struck down as Wang Lin’s fingers flashed like lightning, piercing their brows. With a mournful crumble, they collapsed, their bodies reduced to piles of dust and gravel.

“Nine remain!” Wang Lin’s voice dripped with an icy malice, sending shivers down the spines of the remaining cultivators. He vanished once more, leaving them paralyzed with dread.

Apart from the elder locked in a brutal duel with Ta Shan, eight cultivators remained. They hesitated for only a heartbeat before abandoning their mission of interception! The rewards promised by the Yao family paled in comparison to their lives, and it was now terrifyingly clear that Xu Mu was an opponent beyond their capacity to resist.

His unsettling and unpredictable powers alone were enough to ensure his invincibility.

To slay this man, one required power beyond measure. Anything less would be in vain!

Without a second thought, the eight scattered, fleeing in all directions.

But the killing intent in Wang Lin’s eyes did not diminish; it intensified. His aura rose with the escape of his prey, a rainbow of savage energy. He took a step forward, his action disrupting the very fabric of the surrounding heavens, preventing any immediate teleportation. He had cut off their escape routes. The Immortal Sealing Stamp, guided by his will, spun out, hurtling after one of the fleeing figures.

Simultaneously, the Sub-Mother Dao vines slithered into existence, chasing down another.

Wang Lin tapped his storage pouch, and the Immortal Sword sprang forth. Upon it materialized Xu Liguo, roaring a battle cry even before Wang Lin could issue an order. With a frightened heart and quaking voice, he dove into the heart of the blade, lunging toward the fray.

Despite the ancient sword intent that coursed through his veins, Xu Liguo had never before faced a Void Refinement cultivator. Nonetheless, with a defiant yell, he steeled his nerve and charged: “By the gods, let’s do this! Let’s do this!”

With three treasures hunting down three targets, Wang Lin stepped forward, his form dissolving into nothingness.

In the blink of an eye, Wang Lin materialized beside one of the fleeing cultivators. The man’s face twisted in horror, but before he could utter a word, Wang Lin’s finger struck his brow with the absolute power of a Solid Yang realm expert.

Withdrawing his hand, Wang Lin disappeared again. Moments later, the Immortal Sealing Stamp and Sub-Mother Dao vines returned, their deadly tasks complete. Only Xu Liguo remained, still locked in a frantic, profanity-laden struggle with his quarry.

The Void Refinement cultivator hunted by Xu Liguo wore a mask of grim desperation. He sought only to escape the maddening screech of the sword spirit and the onslaught of attacks. The deaths of his fleeing companions had pushed his horror to the breaking point.

The sword spirit’s incessant cursing drove him to distraction. With a surge of inner power, he unleashed a wave of destructive force that sent Xu Liguo and the Immortal Sword reeling. Ignoring the sword spirit, the man teleported away.

But in the instant before he could vanish, his eyes widened in shock. Wang Lin’s fingers, pale and cold, were already pressed against his brow.

With a soft pop, the man’s body collapsed, his soul trapped and consumed.

Wang Lin, his face an impassive mask, glanced at Xu Liguo perched upon the Immortal Sword, and spoke in a voice as cold as death: “I have no need for weakness.”

Xu Liguo, his heart frozen with fear, thumped his chest and stammered: “Master, have no fear! I…”

But Wang Lin had already turned away, striding towards the battle where Ta Shan struggled against their final foe.

“Only one remains!” The words, a frigid gale of death, echoed through the battlefield. The elder who had been clashing with Ta Shan felt a shiver of despair.

At that moment, a blinding beam of sword light ripped through the heavens, carrying with it an aura that threatened to tear the very fabric of space.

The Solid Yang elder fighting Ta Shan felt a surge of relief. “The Yao family! At last, they have arrived. I have done my part.”

Standing within the sword light was a solitary figure: the youthful scholar who had emerged from the shattered jade talisman on Xuan Chen Star! A ferocious hunger for battle burned in his eyes.

“Xu Mu!” he exclaimed, a hint of manic glee in his voice, “I, Yao Changdong, never imagined I would find you here! This will be a great victory!”