Wang Lin’s divine art shattered Tang Yanfeng, revealing his true ascension into the Second Step, a nascent strength that sent ripples of contemplation through the gathered throng upon hearing Zhan Konglie’s challenge.

Barely a breath had passed before Zhan Konglie, his words still echoing, blurred into motion, entering the thousand-mile shimmering barrier.

His gaze, sharp as honed steel, pierced through to Wang Lin. A solemn bow accompanied his words, “Esteemed Xu Mu, I beseech your guidance!”

Wang Lin’s expression remained serene, his eyes descending upon Zhan Konglie with an air of profound superiority. He was no longer the man of years past.

Then, he had only feigned such power, even within the Realm of Thunder. His cultivation had been roughly equal to Zhan Konglie’s, and caution had seasoned his words.

But now, his cultivation had shattered the shackles of Yang Solidification. He had truly reached the Second Step, the threshold of Peering Nirvana. Gazing upon Zhan Konglie, Wang Lin’s heart was a tranquil lake, unruffled by even the slightest ripple.

“You are no match for me. Because of our past acquaintance, I bid you to retreat,” Wang Lin said plainly, withdrawing his gaze.

Zhan Konglie stood in troubled silence, complex emotions swirling in his eyes as he spoke, “Seven centuries past, senior, upon the Star of Heavenly Thunder, I grasped the indomitable spirit within the lightning. I infused this unyielding power into my very being. Returning to my clan, I meditated for a century before the ancestral ‘War’ Calligraphy, birthing my own domain of intent. This intent is that of unyielding battle! ‘Zhan’ is my surname, yes, but also the essence of my being, my very intent! Through this intent alone, my cultivation soared, reaching Yang Solidification four centuries ago. Yet… since then, I have been frozen. Senior, is my path true, or is it flawed?”

Silence fell upon the gathered cultivators. Even venerable ancestors of powerful clans were plunged into deep thought, for this question resonated with the doubts harbored in their own hearts.

“I have sought counsel from Grand Ancestor Lieyunzi, but his answers only deepened my confusion!” Zhan Konglie continued, his gaze fixed on Wang Lin. “I beg you, senior, to enlighten me!”

Wang Lin’s expression remained unchanged as he regarded Zhan Konglie. “Your battle intent is brittle.”

A flash of fierce light sparked in Zhan Konglie’s eyes, but quickly faded. His demeanor became even more troubled.

“I imagine your ancestor has advised you to challenge all those whose cultivation rivals your own, to grasp battle intent through constant struggle, to solidify it through ceaseless victory, until you achieve a state akin to battle frenzy. Only then, can you break through and reach Peering Nirvana!”

Zhan Konglie trembled, his head snapping up to meet Wang Lin’s gaze. Though Wang Lin’s words differed from Lieyunzi’s, the underlying meaning was strikingly similar.

“I implore you, senior, to guide me! For this, I willingly offer my very Dao-spirit!” Zhan Konglie stepped back, offering a deep, respectful bow.

“A Dao-spirit so easily relinquished… what then is the worth of your supposed unyielding will, Zhan Konglie? Because of our shared past, I offer this one truth: Battle intent forged through endless conflict is powerful, yes, but its strength is finite! True battle intent is born from unwavering conviction, from a Dao-spirit that compels you to fight, from a relentless determination to conquer, to triumph, to *war*! Even if you face gods, even if you face your own clan’s ancestor, even if you face the heavens themselves, you must dare to declare, ‘So what?! Death is but one possibility!'”

Wang Lin’s voice remained even, but the words struck Zhan Konglie like thunder, shaking his very core. He staggered backward, his battle intent crumbling, replaced by a glimmer of understanding.

“Retreat!” Wang Lin flicked his sleeve, and Zhan Konglie was instantly swept back, beyond the thousand-mile shimmering barrier. He remained silent for a long time, then bowed deeply to Wang Lin. Seating himself upon a crimson stone, he silently meditated.

Silence reigned. Then, a black-clad figure, nine blades plunged before him, raised his head, his eyes burning with intense light. In a gravelly voice, he spoke, “To articulate such profound truths with but a few words… brother, your understanding of the Dao is thorough. Nan Gong bows in respect! You are worthy to accept my challenge!”

The black-clad figure did not even bother to ask if Wang Lin accepted his challenge, as if merely being deemed worthy of his attention was the greatest honor one could receive. Without rising, he formed a hand seal and swept it forward. Instantly, the nine blades shuddered, unleashing a wave of formidable blade Qi.

With his single gesture, the nine blades shot forth, aimed directly at Wang Lin! The blade Qi was immense, radiating a certain cosmic principle that warped the surrounding stars and even caused the thousand-mile protective barrier to tremble, threatening to shatter.

“Nine Twisting Sky Blades!” An ancestor from a prominent clan, seated upon a white stone, exclaimed, his eyes gleaming at the sight of the blade aura.

Whispers and murmurs spread through the crowd, all eyes fixed upon the black-clad figure.

“The Nine Twisting Sky Blades, a divine ability of the Nan Gong family of Luo Tian’s Southern Domain! So, this man is of the Nan Gong clan!”

“The Nan Gong, Tang, Zhan, and Shen Gong families… once, the Nan Gong clan was ranked first among Luo Tian’s Southern Domain’s Four Great Clans. But a thousand years ago, they mysteriously vanished, their home planet left without a single Nan Gong. The matter even drew the attention of the Thunder Immortal Temple, but no explanation was ever found!”

“No wonder I have never seen this man! He is of the long-lost Nan Gong clan!”

Amidst the rising tide of speculation, the blade Qi, formed from the nine blades, whistled through the void, hurtling toward Wang Lin with terrifying speed.

Wang Lin’s expression remained calm. The black-clad man’s cultivation was equal to his own, at the threshold of Peering Nirvana. The nine waves of blade Qi contained a狂暴 destructive force that sealed all avenues of retreat.
The sole path forward lay in battle! Wang Lin’s eyes flashed with glacial fire as he strode forth, his right hand rising. In a low voice, he intoned, “Summon the Winds!” He would waste no words with this challenger. He unleashed his most potent spell, for he sought victory above all else. To become entangled in a drawn-out fight would weaken his resolve and complicate his ascent to the pinnacle.

In an instant, a tempest of ebony arose, engulfing the heavens. A boundless gale swept across the star-strewn expanse, extinguishing all resistance. The blade-like energies that had sealed the area shattered like glass, their fragments swirling back upon their origin. The black wind howled, carrying with it a frigid breath capable of snuffing out the flames of life. From the maelstrom, two obsidian dragons materialized, each a thousand feet in length. Their movements sent tremors echoing through the void. Their faces, contorted in savage snarls, radiated an aura of celestial might. A palpable miasma of bloodlust cloaked them – a darkness drawn from Wang Lin’s very essence. Though born of the Summon the Winds spell, they were infused with his own raw power, a distillation of every battle he had fought, every foe he had vanquished, and all the savage war that raged within his heart.

“ROAR!” A deafening roar erupted as the two dragons, intertwined, unleashed a storm of spectral wind. The nine blades of energy, unable to withstand its fury, crumbled into nothingness before they could even draw near. Within the thousand-mile radiance of the arena, Wang Lin stood cloaked in the swirling black winds. The two serpentine behemoths coiled around him, their thousand-foot bodies pulsating with unbridled rage. With an unwavering gaze, Wang Lin advanced towards the black-clad warrior. “You desire war? Then war you shall have!” His voice, devoid of warmth, was a chilling pronouncement.

Those gathered, witnessing this display of power, were struck dumb with awe. Even the ancient patriarchs of the great houses were visibly shaken.

“What… what sorcery is this?!”

“This spell is terrifying! Though shielded by the light barrier, I feel the sting of frost upon my soul. It is as though I stand in the heart of a glacier, and the very flow of my own power falters!”

“This is no ordinary incantation! This Xu Mu truly earns his title as a ‘Child of the Demonic Path’. His arts are infused with a wicked power! It is too strong!”

“Such power is horrifying! Were I to face him, I would be helpless. Where did he acquire this skill? I have never heard of its like!”

“The Yao family wields Arts of Thunder and Wind, which bear some resemblance to this technique. Yet their potency pales in comparison!”

The elder of the Lightning Immortal Palace, garbed in violet robes, narrowed his eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips. He mused, “The Palace Lord spoke of Xu Mu as the distant disciple of the Immortal Monarch Clear Water. It seems this may be true. But which is stronger, the perfected Nine-Crooked Sky Blades or the Immortal Monarch’s art that can only manifest two black dragons…”

With each step Wang Lin took, the obsidian dragons roared, spewing forth torrents of spectral wind that crashed against the crimson stone upon which the black-clad warrior sat. The warrior’s eyes blazed with renewed intensity, yet he remained seated. He weaved intricate hand seals, and four of the nine blades surrounding him detached from the stone and spun into a vortex of steel. As the bladed tempest intensified, cracks appeared in the very fabric of space, as if the void itself could not bear the strain.

“Sky Blades, Annihilate!” the black-clad warrior rasped, his voice like the grinding of stones.

The four blades surged forth, spinning with a deafening shriek, transforming into titanic weapons of destruction that threatened to rend the heavens themselves. They descended upon the two black dragons, intent on cleaving them in two. The Nine-Crooked Sky Blades were the embodiment of raw power, a declaration that nothing could withstand their edge. Having twice witnessed Clear Water unleash the Summon the Winds spell, Wang Lin felt a stirring within him. As he now controlled the spell, his mind drifted back to the painting he had seen on the ninth level of the Thunder Immortal Realm’s Vault of Treasures. It was as if he had become the child within the painting. A wave of understanding washed over him. Wang Lin raised his hands, merging his being with the two black dragons…