Lady Xizi Feng bit her lip, her silken robes fluttering in the void. She had come to the Allied Star Domain with her clan, but the Great Collapse had torn them asunder. A wave of unimaginable force had seized her, flinging her back into the churning chaos.

When she had finally regained her footing, the scene before her was a vision of hellish slaughter!

Alas, Xizi Feng’s beauty did not go unnoticed amidst the carnage. Amorous glances were cast her way, and soon, one of the Allied cultivators, his eyes gleaming with avarice, approached.

Xizi Feng’s heart pounded in her chest, her brow furrowed with anxiety as she fled, her silver teeth clenched tight. The impact of the Collapse had left her spirit wounded, and the desperate flight only exacerbated her injuries.

Behind her, a middle-aged man, a cruel smile twisting his lips, reached into his satchel. He produced a golden needle, which he flung forth with a flick of his wrist. The needle, ablaze with golden light, whistled through the void, aimed true at Xizi Feng’s fleeing form.

“This maiden from the land of Luo Tian will become my ninth cauldron, hah! Never have I tasted the essence of a Luo Tian woman. This journey was not in vain!” the man cackled, urging his flying sword to greater speed.

Seeing the golden needle streak toward her, about to pierce her heart, Xizi Feng whirled around. Her hands flashed with arcane gestures, and a shimmering barrier of light sprang into existence before her, meant to deflect the deadly projectile.

But the needle possessed a power far exceeding her defenses. The instant it touched the barrier, Xizi Feng felt a crushing force slam into her, and a mouthful of crimson erupted from her lips. She stumbled backward, her face as pale as the moons of a dead world.

The middle-aged man, his laughter echoing in the void, rapidly closed the distance, his hand outstretched to seize her. But just as his fingers were about to grasp her delicate arm, a voice, as cold as the heart of a glacier, echoed through the stars.

“Begone!”

Two simple words, yet they struck the middle-aged man like a thunderclap. It was as if ten thousand thunderbolts had exploded in his ears, shaking him to his very core. Though he was stronger than Xizi Feng, his power was still limited.

Now, he trembled uncontrollably, a deafening roar filling his left ear, as if he were cut off from the very heavens. All he could hear was the frantic drum of his own terrified heart.

The voice pierced him like a blade, possessed of a destructive power that caused him to blanch and cough up blood.

He was forced to retreat, his body moving against his will. It was as if an alien presence had invaded his soul, compelling him to obey. He dared not resist, lest he be utterly annihilated!

Never in his life had the middle-aged man experienced such a terrifying sensation. He felt as though the very fabric of reality was being twisted around him, forcing him back with relentless power.

It was not just him. All of the cultivators who had been chasing Xizi Feng shared his fate, feeling the same crushing power emanating from the chilling voice. They were utterly helpless to resist.

It was as if a tempest had risen before Xizi Feng, driving away all who dared to approach. And as they were forced back, sickening cracks echoed through the void as bodies shattered, unable to withstand the force of the speaker’s will.

A crimson mist filled the void, but it was a mere trifle compared to the vastness of the cosmos.

Even their souls could not escape the speaker’s influence. As their bodies crumbled, their souls were ejected from the cycle of reincarnation, cast into a spectral nothingness. They flickered like dying embers, then vanished into the figure who now stood before Xizi Feng, claimed as spoils of war.

Xizi Feng stared, her mind reeling. Her eyes were drawn to the figure who had appeared before her, his presence filling her vision.

The figure, Wang Lin, calmly surveyed the fleeing cultivators. His words had carried the weight of newfound understanding, imbued with the power of the ancient technique, “Words Become Law,” transformed into an irresistible force of will.

Terror filled the middle-aged man’s eyes. A voice echoed in his mind, confirming his fears: before him stood a cultivator of immense power from the realm of Luo Tian!

But he could not voice his realization. His body continued its involuntary retreat until, with a final, sickening crack, it imploded!

Such a being was insignificant before Wang Lin!

It was as if Wang Lin had become the very demon who had once threatened to destroy him in the Land of the Demon Spirit.

The middle-aged man’s spirit, freed from its mortal shell, began to unravel. But just as it was about to be extinguished, a sinister voice echoed through the void.

“So, the genuine Thunder Immortal of Luo Tian, Xu Mu, has revealed himself!” As the voice reverberated through the stars, a figure emerged from the darkness. He wore a blue robe, his face was a sickly yellow, and behind him trailed a dark, billowing cloud of phantasmal figures, like a macabre cape.

It was the six-fingered cultivator!

His voice, laced with dark energy, reached the dying spirit. With the six-fingered cultivator’s help, the man’s soul broke free from Wang Lin’s grasp, halting its disintegration. Now weakened and fragmented, it fled in terror.

But Wang Lin remained impassive. With a casual flick of his wrist, he summoned a tempestuous wind. Before him, the wind coalesced into countless energy blades, fused into a single, deadly projectile that screamed through the void, aimed at the fleeing soul.

The six-fingered cultivator smiled wickedly. He raised his own hand, and the dark figures swirling behind him detached, hurtling toward Wang Lin’s blade.

With the fate of a single soul hanging in the balance, the two powerful cultivators clashed, their energies colliding in a cataclysmic storm! The power of Wang Lin’s technique had been amplified by his newfound enlightenment, making the energy blades even more deadly than before!
Before this moment, Wang Lin had only unconsciously invoked the technique, unaware of its true nature. Thus, the true might of the “Severing Luo Art” remained veiled. But now, it was utterly different.

The Severing Luo Art, designed to obliterate all laws and principles, erupted forth. The spectral figures before it, at the mere brush of its power, shattered and dissolved in a series of echoing pops.

In the blink of an eye, all the wraiths were gone, and the Severing Luo Art hurtled towards Zhou Tian, who was now a spirit without a vessel.

The six-fingered cultivator’s expression shifted. With a cold snort, he stepped forward, his right hand forming a mystic seal. The phantoms behind him coalesced and shrank, merging into a black, shimmering orb.

An aura that could shake the very core of one’s being emanated from this sphere, filling the heavens and earth. It shot forth with incredible speed toward the Severing Luo Art, seeming to pierce through the void itself. Upon contact, the orb self-destructed, transforming into swirling black mists that enveloped the Severing Luo Art in countless layers.

The six-fingered cultivator roared with laughter. With a wave of his hand, a great force slammed into the bewildered spirit of Zhou Tian. The spirit was propelled backward, rapidly disappearing into the far reaches of the starry sky.

“He whom my Soul Servant Zhou Tian seeks to save, none shall slay!”

Wang Lin, unperturbed, didn’t even glance at Zhou Tian. He stepped forward, a ripple forming beneath his feet as he melded into the very essence of the void.

This action startled Zhou Tian, his pupils shrinking in disbelief.

In the distance, the retreating spirit of Zhou Tian, no longer bewildered but now alight with hope, was suddenly intercepted. Out of the fabric of space itself, Wang Lin calmly emerged. With a clenched fist, he struck the void. A deafening boom echoed, the cosmos trembled, and ripples spread in every direction.

“Shatter!” Wang Lin uttered softly. The spirit of Zhou Tian convulsed violently, dissolving like a sand figurine caught in a raging storm.

Zhou Tian’s eyes glittered, fixated on Wang Lin, an eerie light growing within them. He raised his right hand, pointing towards Xi Zifeng, who watched in stunned silence.

Immediately, several spectral figures detached from him, rushing towards her. “You seek to save this woman? I will ensure your failure!” Zhou Tian’s voice, laced with a chilling smoothness, resonated as the wraiths closed in on Xi Zifeng.

Her face pale, Xi Zifeng retreated.

Zhou Tian smiled, his eyes glued to Wang Lin’s expression. But he saw no sign of anger or fear, no flicker of emotion. Wang Lin remained serene, watching Zhou Tian’s actions with a cold indifference, then he stepped forward.

Zhou Tian’s pupils constricted. He recoiled without hesitation.

Beside Xi Zifeng, the air shimmered, and Wang Lin materialized. A single punch shattered the approaching wraiths.

“You may seek her life, Xu Mou cares not. But not before me!” Wang Lin spoke calmly, yet a murderous glint flashed in his eyes. He took another step, moving towards Zhou Tian.

Zhou Tian sneered. He formed a seal with his hands and pointed towards the void. Behind him, a multitude of specters materialized, condensing before him into a massive, black axe, which he seized and hurled forward with brutal force!

“Ten Thousand Souls Devour the Spirit!” Zhou Tian bellowed. The axe hurtled towards Wang Lin.

As Wang Lin advanced, he unleashed a devastating punch, the resulting sonic boom shaking the heavens. The axe shuddered and exploded, transforming into countless wraith-like shadows that swarmed towards Wang Lin from all sides.

Wang Lin remained unfazed. He pointed towards the heavens, and a deafening thunderclap resounded, drawn from the cosmos for tens of thousands of miles. Lightning coalesced around him, filling the air with its crackling energy.

As Wang Lin strode forward, bolts of lightning rained down, obliterating the ten thousand spectral shadows.

Zhou Tian’s eyes gleamed. He formed another seal with his hands, then pointed to the space between his eyebrows. Dark patterns spread across his face as he roared, “Soul, Kill!”

As the words left his lips, the black patterns seemed to detach from his skin, forming a dark ring above his head. With terrifying speed, it expanded outwards, towards Wang Lin.

Wang Lin did not flinch or dodge. He continued to advance, relentlessly closing the distance with Zhou Tian.

The dark ring collided with Wang Lin’s flesh, transforming into countless thin lines that burrowed into his body. But they barely penetrated before they were violently obliterated by Wang Lin’s sheer force.

Wang Lin’s speed did not diminish. He reached Zhou Tian and unleashed a devastating punch.

Zhou Tian’s face contorted in panic. He retreated, striking his storage bag, and a purple orb appeared in his hand. He crushed it, and purple light surged forth, engulfing him.

A series of echoing pops reverberated as the purple light shattered, and Zhou Tian retreated even faster.

As he fled, Wang Lin stepped, merging into the essence of the cosmos. He reappeared beside the retreating Zhou Tian and unleashed a devastating kick!

The kick was lightning-fast and generated a thunderous roar, as if it could shatter the very fabric of space. It landed squarely on Zhou Tian’s flesh.

With a resounding boom, Zhou Tian’s body exploded into a cloud of blood mist. Yet, from within the void, a long, chilling laugh echoed as a multitude of purplish-red wraiths shot forth, directly towards Wang Lin.

“This body, Zhou Tian claims it!” the chillingly smooth voice reverberated as the purplish-red specters swarmed into Wang Lin’s body, aiming for his very soul.

But as they approached Wang Lin’s spirit, his eyes snapped open. The Ancient God armor that protected it radiated an ancient power. The armor and spirit merged, creating a counter-force of unimaginable power.
As the crimson apparitions surged towards the nascent soul, eager for its conquest, they crashed headlong into a force of devastating repulsion. A chorus of agonized shrieks rent the air as the spectral figures recoiled, as if struck by some primeval dread. They scrambled to escape the confines of Wang Lin’s very being, desperate for release.

But in that fleeting moment of their attempted flight, Wang Lin’s own soul, a manifestation of raw power, descended. The ancient Thunder Dragon, an entity of legend, opened its maw wide. With a single, voracious inhale, it ensnared many of the fleeing specters, devouring them whole amidst their despairing cries.

A miasma of violet now engulfed Wang Lin’s form, as streams of crimson energy erupted from him, coalescing beyond in the air some dozens of feet away, quickly solidifying into illusory figures.

“Let you be the measure of my newfound art!” Wang Lin intoned, his hand weaving a mystical sign, his voice calm yet imbued with a subtle power. “Scatter the Seed of Soldiers!”

A sliver of his own immortal essence stirred within him, swirling into a concentrated power that surged into his outstretched hand, erupting in a blinding golden light. With a flick of his wrist, he scattered forth the light as if tossing handfuls of golden seeds into the void.

In that instant, the very fabric of the cosmos seemed to tremble. The countless golden motes shimmered, each undergoing a rapid metamorphosis, transforming into spectral warriors of formidable presence!

Scatter the Seed of Soldiers – a spell cast for the very first time by Wang Lin. These phantasmal figures were none other than the souls of those he had vanquished in life. Souls denied the peace of reincarnation, instead damned and confined within the deepest, darkest abyss of the Eighteen Hells.

Now given form once more, an overwhelming aura of resentment, a maddening wave of malice, poured forth to saturate all creation. For each soul trapped, each spirit bound, seethed with a rage that burned for cosmic upheaval.

Zhou Tian, witnessing this spectacle unfold, felt his very soul tremble. His eyes widened in profound shock. Though the majority of these spectral soldiers posed little threat to him, there were those among them that elicited a sharp intake of breath, a prickling of unease.

One figure, shrouded in shadows, his face a mask of grim discontent, exuded an oppressive aura of darkness. The glimpses of his form revealed an intensity of resentment that seemed to defy comprehension. An undeniable power emanated from this spectral warrior.

“A Soul-Scrying cultivator!” Zhou Tian whispered, his voice a chilling acknowledgement, his gaze sweeping the battlefield.

And there, swirling amidst the shadows, were nearly a hundred souls of fallen Immortals. The ethereal grace of their immortal essence, now twisted with the venomous rage of captivity, coalesced into a palpable killing intent that choked the very air.

Upon seeing these celestial spirits, Zhou Tian’s face paled in disbelief. “This… these are Immortal souls?!” he exclaimed, his voice laced with horror. His life’s work had been dedicated to understanding the intricate arts of the soul, and he recognized them instantly.

And amongst them, the vengeful spirits of the Yao clan swirled, their thirst for vengeance an almost tangible force.

“What sorcery is this?! It is horrific! To imprison so many souls, denying them the cycle of rebirth… This is clearly the practice of the Blackest Arts!” The scale of this dark magic sent tremors through Zhou Tian’s mind, a chilling realization of the immense power wielded by Wang Lin. Yet, what followed brought him to the brink of utter annihilation.

From within the swirling mass of spectral warriors, a monstrous roar erupted, like the bellow of some primordial beast. At the sound, the other wraiths seemed to cower, instinctively parting to form a pathway.

A surge of crimson mist erupted forth, tearing through the spectral ranks with unrestrained fury. No shadow dared to impede its progress as the bloody vapor billowed and churned, revealing the figure at its heart: a man, middle-aged in appearance, his crimson hair wild and unbound, his face contorted in a savage snarl. From him emanated an indescribable killing intent, a lust for destruction that threatened to invert the very order of the stars.

At the sight of this crimson-haired figure, Zhou Tian froze, his mind momentarily blank. Then, in an instant, his eyes widened with a horror and dread he had never before known.

“The Blood Ancestor of Planet Tian Yun!!!” Zhou Tian’s voice was a strangled rasp, his scalp prickling with icy fear. Without a second thought, he turned to flee. All thoughts of conquest, of slaying Wang Lin, vanished. Not because he no longer wished to kill, but because he realized, with chilling certainty, that he *could* not.

Though his cultivation had reached the mid-stage of Soul-Scrying, Wang Lin, this Xu Mu, appeared to him as an enigma of unfathomable power. This very spell, this art of soul-binding… Zhou Tian understood now that each of these souls must have been slain by Wang Lin personally, using a unique and terrible method to enslave their spirits.

The Blood Ancestor… He knew of that entity. His terror was absolute.

“The Blood Ancestor was a Soul-Purifying cultivator! And Xu Mu has slain him. I cannot hope to stand against such a foe! Flee, now!”

Wang Lin, his expression impassive, pointed a finger towards Zhou Tian and uttered a simple command: “Drag him into the Eighteen Hells!”

At his words, a cacophony of roars erupted from the spectral army. The Blood Ancestor, cloaked in its crimson shroud, surged forward, engulfing Zhou Tian in a tide of bloody mist.

Zhou Tian’s face turned ashen, his eyes wide with panic. He frantically retreated, but the scores of Immortal spirits and Yao clan wraiths surged around him, a suffocating tide of hatred and regret. They pressed close, sealing off all avenues of escape, both before and behind, above and below, to left and to right.

Hemmed in on all sides, the countless wailing souls filling his senses, Zhou Tian succumbed to madness. A master of soul arts himself, he unleashed a desperate countermeasure. With a guttural cry, he wove a complex hand seal and plunged his hand into his chest. His physical form shattered, dissolving into countless spectral fragments, each attempting to flee in a different direction.

Zhou Tian’s soul mastery was nearly complete. He had long ago shed his physical shell, refining it into pure spiritual energy. Even his nascent soul was fully integrated into his spirit. Only thus could he unleash the true power of his Soul-Slaying techniques – techniques that could slay even those of higher cultivation if they let their guard down.

But now, Zhou Tian cried out in silent despair. He had initially sought to possess Wang Lin, but the ancient god’s armor beneath his skin had violently repelled him. The resulting wound, while minor, left him vulnerable, and his error was compounded by the sheer ferocity of Wang Lin’s own soul, which had devoured a part of him.

Forced to retreat, Zhou Tian had only just escaped Wang Lin’s body, preparing to unleash his own devastating techniques, when he beheld this horrifying spectacle – a power that shook the very foundations of his being. The Soul Seed Soldiers!

Now, as he frantically split himself into countless fragments, seeking to escape this nightmare, the Blood Ancestor’s spectral form grinned with wicked delight. The crimson mist surrounding it surged, and the throng of Immortal and Yao clan spirits lunged forward as one.

A chorus of agonized screams filled the air as the Blood Ancestor’s claws, now transformed into monstrous talons, snatched up the vast majority of Zhou Tian’s fragmented essence and dragged them screaming into the bloody fog.

The hundreds of other spirits followed, their spectral forms a whirlwind of hunger and hate. In a matter of moments, not a single fragment of Zhou Tian’s soul escaped their grasp.
A pall of spectral wind descended upon the firmament, where countless lost souls swirled, their collective anguish a tangible force that clawed at the heavens. Wang Lin stood amidst this turmoil, his face an impassive mask. He now grasped the true power of his art, the conjuring of soldiers from mere seeds.

Raising his right hand, he pointed a finger skyward. Instantly, above the throng of spirits, a colossal vortex materialized. One by one, the souls were drawn into its spiraling maw, their ethereal forms dissolving into its depths. Yet, the Blood Ancestor, his crimson eyes blazing with defiance, defied the pull. With a feral roar, he lunged free, a crimson streak aimed directly at Wang Lin.

A flicker of lethal intent ignited within Wang Lin’s eyes. His right hand clenched into a fist, and he unleashed a devastating punch toward the approaching abomination!

The cosmic space thrummed as the fist landed. The Blood Ancestor’s spirit faltered, his advance momentarily arrested. Seizing this fleeting opportunity, Wang Lin channeled his immortal essence, accelerating the vortex’s ravenous spin. The suction intensified, drawing the Blood Ancestor back. With a final, agonizing shriek born of pure frustration, the ancient vampire was consumed by the swirling abyss.

Slowly, the vortex in the starry sky dissipated, condensing into a shimmering crystal that Wang Lin swallowed whole. Within his own mind, in the eighteenth level of the Netherworld, a new presence stirred in the thirteenth circle.

Though confined to the thirteenth, this spirit occupied its very pinnacle. It was Zhou Tian, the star god.

Having extinguished Zhou Tian’s light, Wang Lin cast a fleeting glance toward Xi Zifeng, then averted his gaze and moved forward. Tasan followed close behind, while the Big-Headed Child, having witnessed such spectacles before, remained unfazed.

Lei Ji, ever loyal, kept pace with Wang Lin as they strode into the distant expanse of the cosmos.

Xi Zifeng, her thoughts a tempest, trailed in their wake.

As they journeyed, Wang Lin pondered, “The conflict between Luo Tian and the Alliance has reached a fever pitch. Now is the time to demonstrate my worth, to earn the favor of Flame Thunder and to garner greater recognition amongst the Luo Tian cultivators. Only then, should I face the likes of Heavenly Fortune or, should Tuo Sen emerge from the Ancient God’s land, will Flame Thunder be compelled to aid me.”

His eyes gleamed with determination. He resolved to act. Yet, in his heart, Wang Lin harbored little faith in Luo Tian’s prospects against the Alliance. After a moment of contemplation, he tapped his storage pouch, and a small banner appeared in his grasp.

The banner bore the image of a celestial tiger. Wang Lin invoked its power, and the beast sprung forth, a thunderous roar echoing across the void, shaking the stars themselves.

By unfurling the Banner of the Heavenly Tiger and releasing its spirit, Wang Lin was planting his flag, establishing his renown throughout the western reaches of the Alliance territory. As they continued onward, a dozen shimmering streaks of sword light emerged in the distance, revealing two groups locked in a deadly struggle. Under the flashing lights of their magical implements, it was clear that the cultivators of Luo Tian were losing ground, being slowly pushed back.

The opposing force was ruthless, their spells and techniques relentless. Moments later, a Luo Tian warrior fell, his life extinguished.

The remaining seven or eight Luo Tian cultivators, wounded and weary, despaired. Trapped by the enemy, their escape was impossible.

But then, from afar, came the roar of a tiger. A wave of immense spiritual pressure washed over the battlefield. The Luo Tian warriors stumbled, turning to look, their faces breaking into expressions of disbelief and elation.

“Immortal Thunder Xu Mu!”

“It is the real Immortal Thunder Xu Mu!”

The Alliance warriors, too, had received intelligence about Luo Tian. One older warrior recognized the name from the scrolls he had studied.

His face paling, he retreated without hesitation, muttering, “This Xu Mu has attained Nirvana Scryer! We are no match! Retreat!”

Elsewhere, three figures fought, their skills evenly matched. Two of them were cultivators from Luo Tian, while the third was a warrior of the Alliance. The latter fought with brutal efficiency, holding his own against the two Luo Tian warriors.

But then, the distant roar of a tiger echoed through the stars. One of the Luo Tian warriors, wary, cast his gaze skyward and gasped.

“Xu Mu!” He knew Xu Mu well, for he was one of those Wang Lin had saved during his time in the Realm of Thunder.

The Alliance warrior faltered. The name Xu Mu seemed familiar. After a moment’s thought, his face went pale.

His sect had received instructions from the Alliance, classifying Luo Tian cultivators into seven ranks, with one being the weakest and seven the strongest.

Xu Mu, he remembered, was in the fifth rank.

Without hesitation, he retreated.

Along their path, Wang Lin encountered countless cultivators. Those of Luo Tian, upon seeing Wang Lin and, in particular, the Heavenly Tiger, would surge toward him, overcome with excitement.

“We salute Immortal Thunder!” they cried, each voice echoing the others. In their eyes, Wang Lin was a beacon of hope in their hour of darkness.

Before, with the collapse of the west, these unexpected events left most of the Luo Tian cultivators in a state of panic. The violent storms killed many, and those that survived were scattered.

The emergence of Alliance warriors was just adding insult to injury. But at this moment, Wang Lin’s Banner of the Heavenly Tiger was the needle of order in their chaotic hearts.

The roar of the Heavenly Tiger sent a wave of relief through those that heard it!

Wang Lin too changed his attitude, choosing to intervene when he saw two forces in combat. He began to sweep across the lands and soon a great number of Luo Tian cultivators began to gather by his side.

The group became a strong force. Soon, Wang Lin did not even need to take action himself. The Luo Tian cultivators that had gathered would charge out to slay the enemy.

More and more Luo Tian cultivators gathered by Wang Lin’s side and formed a great army. Like a sharp blade, they raced forward, piercing through the west of the Alliance.

Throughout the western region of the Alliance, there were many groups such as Wang Lin’s. Messengers from the Thunder Immortal Temple as well as the 108 Immortals and those from the families of cultivators were all leading similar efforts.

However, Wang Lin’s was the largest!

As they traveled, more and more people joined his cause, until eventually the stars thrummed with the sword light of hundreds, alongside the roars of the Heavenly Tiger.
The echoes of Wang Lin’s burgeoning legend resounded throughout the heavens, his name whispered with awe from star to star.

As Wang Lin, followed by a throng of cultivators, pierced towards the heart of the Alliance’s western stronghold, the celestial tapestry above convulsed. Tremors rippled outwards from the distant void, each wave laden with an aura that threatened to unravel the very essence of being. Behind Wang Lin, even the most stalwart warriors faltered, their enchanted blades swaying precariously beneath their feet.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed, and his divine sense unfurled, sweeping across the chaotic expanse. What he beheld caused even his seasoned spirit to stumble in disbelief.

A deafening roar filled the cosmos as a colossal tree, a spire of wood ten thousand fathoms in length and a thousand fathoms in girth, hurtled through the star-strewn sea. The ancient behemoth pulsed with a force that could shatter the very soul, an unstoppable tide of raw power bearing down upon them.

Clustered around this monstrous arbor were swarms of Luo Tian cultivators, their numbers untold, a miasma of bloodlust clinging to them like a shroud. Yet, what truly chilled Wang Lin’s heart was the vile, crimson exhalation emanating from the colossal tree itself. Even from this vast distance, the stench of carnage was palpable, a testament to the countless souls crushed beneath its inexorable advance.

This tree, the likes of which Wang Lin had never before witnessed, struck him with a primal dread. He knew, with chilling certainty, that should this behemoth strike him true, even he would be grievously wounded, perhaps even annihilated. Only a swift shift into the ethereal plane could offer escape.

Yet, while the gargantuan tree was terrifying, it was not the sole cause of Wang Lin’s bewilderment. It was the entity that trailed behind, writhing in furious pursuit!

It was Mochizuki!

The colossal form of Mochizuki, a living constellation of flesh and rage, resembled a rogue celestial body. Countless tendrils, each ten thousand fathoms long, lashed out in fury as its agonized roars tore through the void, shaking the very foundations of the heavens.

The moment Wang Lin laid eyes upon Mochizuki, a tremor surged through his being, a resonant echo from the ancient blood of the Gods that flowed within his veins!