From the depths of the Soul Banner, a legion of tormented spirits surged forth, their essence intertwining with the Eighteen Levels of Hell Seal. With each passing wraith, the seal pulsed with malevolent energy, unleashing a cacophony of agonizing wails that threatened to shatter the minds of mortals and send even seasoned cultivators reeling. For within that unholy symphony lay the condensed anguish of countless souls, the echoes of those felled by Wang Lin’s hand throughout his mortal existence.

Within this spectral host resided the remnants of formidable beings—Blood Ancestors, Celestials, and members of the Yao Clan—their ethereal forms diminished, yet their collective might remained a force to be reckoned with, one that could overwhelm any ordinary mortal.

As these myriad spirits merged with the Eighteen Levels of Hell, the seal became truly deserving of its ominous title.

Save for the few dominant souls, the Soul Banner was now devoid of its ghostly occupants. Wang Lin retrieved the banner, a sense of gratitude washing over him for its provenance, a gift from the venerable Dun Wu. Otherwise, he might have considered fully integrating the banner into the Hell Seal. “This,” Wang Lin proclaimed, rising to his feet, his eyes gleaming with icy resolve as he fixed his gaze upon the Eighteen Levels of Hell Seal, “is my, Wang Lin’s, Eighteen Hells of Reincarnation!”

His words reverberated through the air, intensifying the seal’s tormented cries, until they enveloped the entire planet.

The wild beasts of the world were the first to succumb, their primal instincts overwhelmed by the oppressive aura. They scattered in panicked disarray, and only Wang Lin’s intervention prevented them from collapsing entirely under the weight of the seal’s agonizing influence.

Even the stalwart cultivators stationed there blanched, fleeing with haste, their minds reeling from the psychic assault.

The wide-eyed child prodigy, Da Tou, gasped, his gaze transfixed upon the Eighteen Levels of Hell Seal that loomed in the heavens, instantly recognizing its extraordinary power.

Lei Ji’s pupils constricted, a primal fear seizing his heart as he beheld the ominous artifact radiating an unearthly light.

Wang Lin reached into his storage pouch, retrieving two orbs of light, each containing a trapped soul—the Vice Hall Master of the Corpse Yin Sect’s Grudge Hall and another offered up as a desperate plea for survival.

After a moment of contemplation, he refrained from adding them to the Eighteen Levels of Hell, choosing instead to return them to his pouch. These were rare nascent souls of the Initial Nirvana Stage, valuable resources for restoring his own power, to be reserved for a later time.

Rising to his feet, Wang Lin fixed his gaze upon the sky, and with a swift hand gesture, he commanded the Eighteen Levels of Hell Seal to shrink. It contracted rapidly, until at last, Wang Lin swallowed it whole. “Let us depart,” he declared, his voice calm and resolute. He strode forward, Lei Ji and the others scrambling to their feet, trailing closely behind.

Meanwhile, in the western reaches of the Alliance Star System, the Rotian cultivators had claimed dominion. Swarms of them poured through the newly created portals, seizing control of world after world, establishing what they believed to be the Rotian domain.

Yet, as the western territories fell, a growing unease gnawed at the Rotian high-level cultivators. The fact that the entire western region lacked even a single Transformed Spirit cultivation nation, consisting only of Sixth-Grade cultivation stars, was deeply unsettling.

Despite the foreboding atmosphere, no incidents occurred. Slowly, the Rotian elites, while still suspicious, followed the orders of the Thunder Celestial Palace and launched another wave of attacks, this time targeting the Northern Domain of the Alliance.

Squadrons of Rotian cultivators, astride their swords, streaked across the star-filled skies of the Alliance, leaving trails of cosmic dust in their wake.

The heavens themselves seemed to tremble under their advance, the air crackling with the force of their passing. The sword energies emanating from tens of thousands of blades painted the skies with an apocalyptic palette.

The sheer might of the flying swords heralded the opening of the earth and the collapse of the heavens, the brilliance of a white rainbow piercing the firmament, the dawn of a new era of cosmic upheaval.

Rotian cultivators, radiating murderous intent, rose from conquered worlds and joined the ranks of the invading army.

Yan Leizi, surrounded by a host of followers, flew atop a blazing blue flame. His brow was furrowed with concern. Despite their successful incursions into the Alliance Star System, he had been plagued by a sense of impending doom. Upon divination, he found his future shrouded in a haze of blood, impossible to discern.

The continued assault on the Alliance’s Northern Domain was a matter of grim necessity. Having lingered in the west for too long, they could not simply retreat without a fight, even if it meant knowingly walking into a carefully laid trap.

“Let them scheme as they may,” Yan Leizi muttered, “we shall not falter. And it is not as though the Alliance is alone in its preparations. The Rotian Domain has taken precautions of its own.”

As the Rotian army surged forward, a wave of arcane energy emanated from a conquered world in the Alliance’s Western Domain. The atmosphere seemed to grow ancient, and within moments, a pulse of destruction erupted, radiating outward at blinding speed.

Hundreds of Rotian cultivators stationed on the world sensed the change, their faces contorted in horror. The sight that greeted their eyes in their final moments would remain forever etched in their souls.

The very world beneath their feet began to convulse, as if experiencing the entirety of its natural lifespan in a single breath. An all-consuming aura of death spread across the land, and with it, something more incredible: the planet itself was shrinking!

Crushed by an unseen force, the world contracted with terrifying speed, its once vast surface area diminishing, until it was but a tenth of its former size.

Then, with a deafening roar, the planet collapsed upon itself, unleashing a wave of annihilation that ripped through the cosmos.
The celestial sphere shattered with a cataclysmic roar, unleashing a maelstrom of unimaginable force, a tempest of destruction that swept outwards with unrestrained fury.

A hundred cultivators, caught unawares, were consumed by the storm’s wrath. Their mortal forms dissolved into nothingness, and their very souls were extinguished by the cataclysmic power.

The heavens themselves trembled as the star imploded, leaving behind a trail of ichor and a void where life once thrived. Such an act of annihilation was beyond the capacity of ordinary mortals; only the most ruthless and inhuman could devise such a monstrous scheme – the obliteration of an entire world.

Echoes of the destruction reverberated through the cosmos, and where the star had been, vast rifts tore open in the fabric of space. The fissures multiplied with terrifying speed, soon forming an impenetrable web of chaos.

Within a radius of tens of thousands of miles, every cultivator from the realm of Luo Tian caught within the storm’s embrace was instantly obliterated, their bodies and spirits alike reduced to naught. Not only upon the doomed world of Miao Zhen, but upon every world, did this fate befall them!

Across the western reaches of the Alliance, countless worlds imploded simultaneously, each collapse spawning its own storm of destruction that coalesced to engulf the entire region.

Such a sweeping gesture could only have been orchestrated by the Cultivation Alliance itself. “You invade our territories?” they seemed to proclaim. “Then we shall sunder the west, and bury you all within its ruins!”

At the cost of every living soul upon the western stars, they had unleashed a cataclysmic plan known only as the “Slaughter of Luo.”

The dreadful implosions intensified across the western domain. With each world that perished, the resulting waves of energy ripped through the void. Across the sky, the web of fissures expanded, merging into a single, terrifying abyss.

A cacophony of destruction echoed across the west as the very fabric of reality seemed to unravel. Cosmic debris, imbued with the raw power of annihilation, scattered in every direction.

The western star-fields became a twisted reflection of their former selves. Unstable and turbulent, the individual storms eventually merged into a single, all-consuming vortex of death. Countless cultivators from Luo Tian, struggling in vain against the tempest, were ripped apart without even a chance to retaliate.

As the cosmic rift grew wider, glacial winds poured from the void, intertwining with the storm and forming a colossal maelstrom that dwarfed even the greatest stars. This swirling vortex carved a scar across the entire western sky, severing the invading forces of Luo Tian from their path back home.

As the storm briefly subsided, spectral figures coalesced amidst shimmering portals that flickered into existence. From across the Alliance territories, legions of cultivators emerged, ready for war.

“Kill!” The battle cry echoed across the void, a thunderous wave of sound that crashed upon the embattled warriors.

Yan Lei Zi, his eyes burning with crimson light, had foreseen much. But never had he imagined that the Cultivation Alliance would possess such a ruthless resolve, such a willingness to sacrifice an entire region to unleash a storm of unimaginable proportions.

Simultaneously, in the north, blades sang as hordes of Alliance cultivators materialized, their eyes gleaming with bloodlust, their bodies radiating an aura of murderous intent. They surged forward, towards the bewildered and terrified warriors of Luo Tian.

A ripple spread through the ranks of the Alliance, and from the heart of the army, a black-robed elder stepped forward. His laughter, tinged with madness and malice, echoed through the stars. “Yan Lei Zi, it has been too long! Do you remember Hei Sha, the Demon Lord?”

Yan Lei Zi’s crimson gaze intensified, but his expression remained calm, untouched by the unfolding catastrophe. “So this is your grand design…very well! Now behold the might of Luo Tian!”

He raised his right hand and pointed towards the heavens. The very cosmos trembled as a colossal rift tore open in the void, silently and swiftly bisecting the firmament. From within that chasm, an immense pressure surged forth, and eighteen crimson spheres, each ten zhang in diameter, descended slowly but inexorably.

“You, Cultivation Alliance, may possess the audacity to obliterate the west, but do not believe that Luo Tian is without its defenses! Let this, our first strike, determine who shall prevail! You have slain some of my warriors, but I shall repay you in kind!” Yan Lei Zi declared, his voice ringing with unshakeable confidence.