Wang Lin betrayed not a flicker of emotion, yet within, a stirring arose. The visions he’d witnessed, the glyphs of war, were undeniably six in number. With practiced composure, Wang Lin clasped his fist in a respectful bow. “My gratitude to you, Elder Lie Yunzi.”

Lie Yunzi chuckled, his gaze lingering a moment upon Wang Lin. With a flourish of his sleeve, he drew forth another from beyond the azure stone, ready to face the trials of the Heavenly Gate.

Turning, Wang Lin strode away from the stone, finding an unoccupied patch of earth where he seated himself in the lotus position. Ignoring the curious stares of his fellow cultivators, he entered a state of quiet meditation.

In his meditative trance, he felt a distinct throbbing in his brow, a sensation as though something sought to escape his control. A realization dawned: within his third eye, the absorbed essence of origin had wrought a potent and unpredictable change. He could not yet determine whether this alteration was a blessing or a curse.

One thing, however, was certain. If he allowed the throbbing to continue unchecked, the force within would surely burst forth, uncontrollable, and turn against him.

He drew a deep breath, invoking the ancient heart incantations of his sect. Within his being, he forged seals of banishment, layer upon layer, until three powerful wards settled upon his brow, containing the tempestuous energy.

Yet the power of the third eye was vast, almost overwhelming. These seals could only offer temporary respite, requiring constant reinforcement to prevent their eventual unraveling.

Still, Wang Lin found no burden in this task.

“Whatever its nature, the power within this third eye shall become a trump card, a shield against the ravages of fate!”

After Wang Lin, others attempted the trial of the third gate. Two incense sticks burned to ash, and soon, all the cultivators had faced the test.

Lie Yunzi reached out, his hand closing upon the scroll of war. As he turned, a tempestuous wind erupted from his very being, sweeping across the land. Those who had failed were drawn into a celestial portal, banished from this sacred ground.

From one hundred and forty-seven, only one hundred and twelve remained.

As Lie Yunzi returned to his meditation cushion, the eyes of Yan Leizi swept across the remaining warriors. His gaze, sharp as lightning, paused as he spoke. “The three gates are passed. Those who remain are among the brightest of the Luo Tian Starfield. Originally, the next trial would have been the Six Paths of Reincarnation, a test of the Dao heart. But, as your numbers are close enough, this test shall be bypassed, and you shall enter the One Line Sky directly!”

“The One Line Sky is the final trial in this Conferred Immortal ceremony. The cultivator with the highest tally of slayings shall be deemed the foremost of the one hundred and eight immortals. The first thirty-six shall become the Heavenly Generals!”

“Within the One Line Sky, only your ethereal forms shall enter. Even death there shall only lightly wound your true selves, causing no lasting harm!”

Yan Leizi finished, and with a tap upon his storage bag, an octagonal wooden shard appeared in his hand. He cast it forth, and the shard expanded rapidly, growing to a size of ten zhang, and radiating a myriad of colorful lights as it hovered above.

“Enter the thousand-zhang azure stone!” Yan Leizi commanded, and the one hundred and twelve cultivators walked onto the stone surface, each taking up a meditative pose.

Yan Leizi cast forth a final incantation, and the shard unleashed its multicolored brilliance, bathing each of the one hundred and twelve cultivators in its light.

As the light suffused them, every one of them, Wang Lin included, felt a shock to the very soul, and succumbed to oblivion.

It was a jungle, thick and untamed. Towering trees formed a verdant canopy, their interwoven branches obscuring the sky. Only through the narrowest of fissures could slivers of sunlight penetrate, forming radiant pillars that descended like divine spears.

The ground was a carpet of decaying leaves, crawling with venomous insects seeking to avoid the light. The air was alive with the rustling of leaves and the hiss of crawling creatures, punctuated by the distant and chilling roars of unseen predators.

Suddenly, within one of the ancient trees, a flash of multicolored light heralded Wang Lin’s arrival. Appearing as a specter of the light itself, he leaped instantly to a sturdy branch, his eyes sharp as a falcon’s. He swiftly invoked his heart incantations, completely concealing his presence.

Wang Lin had survived countless life-and-death struggles. This so-called One Line Sky seemed less dangerous than the Demon Spirit Land itself. He would not make the mistake of rashly unleashing his spiritual sense.

Even as he considered his surroundings, a spiritual sense swept by, passing Wang Lin without pause. Yet, in that fleeting instant, panic bloomed within the probing force. It retreated hastily, only to shatter into fragments, and in the distance, a single, terrified scream echoed through the jungle.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed.

“In this place, one cannot unleash their spiritual sense without absolute mastery. To do so is to reveal one’s location, and invite death!”

He pondered for a moment, then channeled his power, examining his form. As Yan Leizi had said, his presence here was merely a projection, a phantom echo of his true self. Death here would leave no lasting scars upon his true soul.

“A trial of slaughter without true death… This One Line Sky must serve to test those who have seen little battle, and to teach them the harsh lessons of life and death. Perhaps this is the true purpose of the Thunder Immortal Temple: to forge real cultivators through fire!” Frowning, Wang Lin attempted to invoke his dimension-shrinking power, but found it was useless. This was not true reality. After a moment’s thought, his form flickered, transforming into a wisp of smoke, and vanished.

*This chapter is not yet complete, please click to continue reading on the next page!*

*”The three tests were but trials. Only within the One Line Sky shall the true battle for the Conferred Immortal title be fought. Here, there is no right or wrong. To seize the first position, one must simply accumulate the most kills!” As Wang Lin moved through the jungle, his eyes flashed with cold determination.

Suddenly, another spiritual sense swept across the area. Wang Lin steeled his gaze and darted through the dense foliage, moving with lightning speed. He quickly located the cultivator who had unleashed the probing power.
Twice thwarted by Wang Lin in the trials, it was indeed Zhao Yidao who now stood bewildered, his gaze sweeping the unfamiliar landscape. Trained in the structured halls of his clan, instinct guided him to extend his spiritual sense, seeking to understand his surroundings. Yet, the moment his awareness unfurled, a chilling premonition seized him, turning his face ashen with the realization of his folly.

He whirled to flee, but a tempest of shadow erupted behind him, a wave of pure malice that swallowed him whole.

A tortured scream echoed through the air as Wang Lin halted his advance, standing a hundred paces distant, his eyes fixed on the swirling darkness.

The black mist writhed, as though consuming the unfortunate Zhao, flesh and bone, and from its heart emerged a figure. It was Xu Ting.

He licked his lips, his eyes locking with Wang Lin’s across the distance. Their gazes clashed with the force of thunder.

“Our battle,” Xu Ting hissed, his voice laced with dread, “should be reserved for the final hour.” He harbored a deep-seated fear of Wang Lin, unwilling to provoke him unless driven to desperation.

Wang Lin met his gaze with a frigid stare, then turned, vanishing into the ether. His current desire was not the death of Xu Ting, but the acquisition of sufficient carnage.

Xu Ting exhaled, retreating into the shadows, melting away in the opposite direction. An unspoken pact formed between them, dividing the land as a boundary to be respected, a haven of neutrality.

Instead of a painstaking hunt, Wang Lin ascended the boughs of an ancient tree, settling cross-legged amongst its branches. He unleashed his spiritual sense, a sweeping tide that engulfed the forest.

Instantly, more than a dozen entities responded, their own senses exploding forth to meet his, an unseen clash in the ethereal realm. In this place, one did not hesitate, for if you did not hunt, you became the prey.

From his seated position, Wang Lin opened his lips, releasing an artifact of immense power: the Seal of Immortality. The small, square seal hovered before him, radiating a golden light.

“Its surface bears but two of the countless runes that once adorned it, each sealing a cultivator’s soul. But now, I wonder, can it bind these ephemeral spirits, these fragmented selves?” Wang Lin mused, his gaze serene as he awaited the first to offer their life.

Moments later, a figure darted through the undergrowth on his right, moving with the speed of lightning. But as the hunter drew within a hundred paces, he faltered, recognizing Wang Lin as his intended victim. Panic flooded his eyes, and he turned to flee.

But Wang Lin’s expression remained impassive. As the desperate cultivator arrived, the Seal of Immortality shot forth, an unstoppable force chasing the fleeing prey.

In desperation, the cultivator chanted an incantation, conjuring a spell. But the magic shattered against the Seal like brittle glass. In an instant, the Seal loomed close, expanding in size, and with a deafening roar, it descended upon the fleeing figure. Golden runes burst forth, sealing every avenue of escape.

Despair filled the hunter’s eyes. He summoned a pouch, unleashing a torrent of a hundred flying swords in a desperate attempt to stem the tide. But with a resounding crash, the swords shattered, collapsing before the inevitable. The Seal fell, and a bloodcurdling cry tore through the forest. As the cultivator vanished, a single golden rune detached itself, embedding itself in the dissolving form. Then, imbued with a strange sentience, it flew back to the Seal of Immortality, becoming one with the artifact.

Wang Lin’s gaze sharpened as he retrieved the Seal, examining it closely. He lifted his head, his eyes scanning the darkened woods. “How long do you intend to remain hidden?” he spoke, his voice calm but resonant.

The forest remained silent for a moment, then four figures emerged from the undergrowth. Each possessed the strength of a solidified Yang, their combined presence creating a palpable force, one that seemed to almost rival Wang Lin himself.

They exchanged glances, and one, his eyes gleaming with malice, reached into his pouch, producing a gourd. With a swift incantation, he unleashed a torrent of crimson flame towards Wang Lin.