“Death!” Shimizu roared, a crimson aura engulfing him as he surged forward. Within him surged boundless power, yet his hands remained unclasped, though spells themselves seemed to answer his will.

Before him, a thread of crimson materialized, thin as a hair, yet it seemed to rend the very fabric of space. As Shimizu charged, this thread hissed forth, aimed directly at the retreating arm.

A thunderous echo reverberated as Shimizu reached the limb, launching a furious assault upon it. A cacophony of booms filled the air, each flicker of the crimson thread sending a shudder through the arm.

Wang Lin, witnessing this spectacle from his position within the marrow of the ancient moon-beast, inhaled sharply. Gritting his teeth, he rose to his feet, transforming into a blur as he lunged forward. “Though I am no paragon of virtue,” he declared, “Shimizu has shown me kindness. To stand idly by as he fights with such desperate fury is beyond my capacity!”

Shimizu fought with the ferocity of a man possessed, his relentless attacks causing the golden dragon’s pupils to constrict in alarm. Even Mu Dongchan, who had been warned by his elders to never provoke Shimizu, drew a sharp breath, his gaze fixed on the crimson thread and the potent energy it radiated.

In the heat of battle, Shimizu’s right eye exploded, a crimson spray scattering as his channeled power crashed against the arm.

With a final tremor, the arm faltered, its grip upon the Xuanbao Immortal weakening.

The golden dragon, ever watchful, seized the opportunity. In a flash of scales, it lunged for the Xuanbao Immortal, its massive tail whipping around to strike at Shimizu.

Meanwhile, the ancient moon-beast’s arm, infused with its essence, once again extended its fingers, this time aiming to seize Shimizu!

Shimizu, his right eye a bloody ruin, fixed his remaining eye upon his foe, a look of madness burning within its depths. He formed a hand seal and pointed forward, unleashing the ‘Call of Wind’ technique. This time, however, the gale carried not the usual seven, but eight black dragons, their roars shaking the very foundations of the world! These eight dragons, second only to Bai Fan’s legendary nine, possessed power far exceeding their predecessor.

The eight black dragons, howling with wind-fueled fury, descended upon the Xuanbao Immortal’s soul. Instead of outright destroying it, they unleashed a tempestuous storm, leaving the soul weakened and on the brink of collapse. Imprints of the ‘Call of Wind’ spell formed upon the soul, sealing it and forcing it into a coma as it was drawn towards the swirling vortex.

Just as the Xuanbao Immortal’s soul was about to be sucked into the vortex, Wang Lin burst forth, snatching the soul from the void and retreating swiftly back into the swirling portal, escaping the fray in a single, fluid motion.

His actions were seamless, perfectly complementing Shimizu’s powerful spells. Before vanishing from sight, Wang Lin caught a glimpse of trust amidst the madness in Shimizu’s remaining eye.

“I will do everything within my power, Brother Shimizu!” Wang Lin vowed, thrusting the Xuanbao Immortal’s unconscious soul into his storage bag. Without hesitation, his third eye opened upon his brow, and in a flash, he turned to face the vortex. The power of his very being radiated from that third eye, forming a fan of crimson energy aimed at the portal!

The golden dragon, enraged, instantly altered its course, its speed increased to a blur. In a single bound, it entered the vortex.

As it emerged, the dragon was immediately met with the crimson light from Wang Lin’s third eye. The dragon’s body shuddered, a surge of ancient and formidable power momentarily staggering it. The dragon paused, momentarily disoriented by the inexplicable source of ancient power.

The dragon recovered instantly, its vast form shaking off the effects of Wang Lin’s crimson gaze. Wang Lin, witnessing the monstrous head looming close, inhaled sharply, overwhelmed by the sheer force of the creature’s presence. Seizing the moment of the dragon’s momentary pause, he plunged into the fleshy walls of the moon-beast, moving with blinding speed upwards.

As he fled, Wang Lin chanted incantations, his senses probing for the traps he had laid earlier. A cruel smile twisted his face.

The golden dragon, a creature of immense speed, tore through the flesh, rapidly closing the distance. To it, Wang Lin was nothing more than an insect, a vermin that dared steal the Xuanbao Immortal’s soul.

Such an act was an affront to its very being!

Crushing the insect required no effort. The dragon roared, and as the sound reverberated around him, the fleshy walls of the moon-beast trembled. Wang Lin, momentarily disrupted by the force of the shockwave, spat blood, but his pace remained unbroken. Instead, he used the force of the impact to accelerate his flight.

“Explode!” Wang Lin cried, his very soul shuddering. Only the strength of his ancient god body had prevented him from being crushed. Even now, agony clawed at his senses.

Fearless, he uttered the command, and instantly, dozens of flying swords, hidden within the moon-beast’s most sensitive areas, detonated in a chain of devastating explosions!

Boom after boom reverberated, the force of the explosions rocking the moon-beast from within. These points of detonation, though not necessarily damaging, triggered a level of excruciating pain that the creature could barely endure. The pain would incite a primal rage.

But identifying these points within the massive body of the ancient moon-beast was considered an impossible task. Even a stray strike would have little effect on such a colossal creature, save for Wang Lin.

And now, with every single sensitive spot wracked by sword explosions, the torment rivaled the creature’s earlier injuries!

Lost in the abyss, the ancient moon-beast suddenly shuddered violently, a roar of unimaginable fury erupting from within.
Within the leviathan Wang Yue, a cataclysm unfolded. Its flesh, in endless, pulsating waves, writhed and contracted, a cosmic inversion that shook the very fabric of existence.

“ROAR!” Wang Yue bellowed, a sound that echoed across the void. Its form elongated, jaws unhinged, as if to expel its very essence. A tempestuous force erupted from its maw, a surge of raw power.

Deep within, Wang Lin, fleeing the gilded dragon, found himself caught in the monstrous exhalation. Instead of being devoured, he was swept up, propelled with impossible speed towards the opening above, the layers of flesh parting to reveal a direct path to Wang Yue’s gaping maw.

The golden dragon, too, was helpless against the tide. Its scales shimmered, its eyes glowed with rage, but it was carried along, a gilded prisoner of the surging force.

In the serpentine tunnels, Qing Shui battled the grotesque hand, only to be ripped from his struggle and thrust upwards, propelled along the slick flesh towards the waiting void.

Neither Yi Mu Zi nor Wu Dong Chan could escape the upheaval. They, too, were seized, their bodies flung through the fleshy rifts towards the maw’s edge.

From the heart of darkness, Wang Yue roared, spewing forth a torrent of raw energy. The golden dragon emerged first, followed swiftly by Wang Lin. Then Qing Shui, Yi Mu Zi, and Wu Dong Chan were expelled, each cast adrift in the desolate void.

As Wang Lin was ejected, he instinctively sealed his weakened Xian Yuan, hoping to stave off the encroaching nothingness. But it was futile. The moment he touched the void, his essence began to drain, as invisible shackles constricted his form.

His Xian Yuan, too, faded rapidly.

Only his Ancient God flesh, imbued with ancient power, remained unaffected. Wang Lin, concealing his relief, retreated cautiously.

He was not alone in his plight. The golden dragon, Yi Mu Zi, and the others were all suffering the draining effects of this strange place.

But these were not novices. Understanding the perilous nature of their surroundings, they invoked their skills from the moment they emerged. Yi Mu Zi, wreathed in three swirling amethyst splinters of wood, fought to slow the dissipation of his essence, his face pale with exertion.

The golden dragon shimmered with inner light, a desperate defense that paled in comparison to Yi Mu Zi’s efforts. Wu Dong Chan, meanwhile, was enveloped in a fragile bubble, a barrier against the void that required constant replenishment of his dwindling energy.

Qing Shui, with a fierce determination, drew a line in the void, marking a boundary he swore to defend, though he knew his resistance could not last.

Wang Lin alone seemed unperturbed. Ignoring the depletion of his Yuan Li, he clenched his fists, his gaze fixed on the golden dragon, a chilling smile playing on his lips.

He bided his time, retreating further into the void, thinking, “Now is not the moment. I must wait.”

Even as they were cast out, Wang Yue’s roar echoed, and within its eyes, vortices formed, revealing a figure emerging from the depths.

It was Ji Xian Tian!

But this Ji Xian Tian was different. His eyes were dim, flickering with a fleeting struggle. Then, a piercing shriek tore from his throat as he erupted from the vortices within Wang Yue’s eyes.

Wang Lin’s pupils constricted, then blazed with a sudden, fierce light. In this void, his Ancient God senses detected something profound: the aura of an Ancient God emanating from Ji Xian Tian!

In his eyes, Ji Xian Tian was a living star point, or perhaps a being fused with one, twisted into something neither celestial nor mortal.

Ancient God puppetry!

The memories of Tu Si flooded Wang Lin’s mind, a technique only accessible to fully formed Ancient Gods. “Ji Xian Tian harbors an Ancient God Star! By absorbing him, I could gain a fragment of the Ancient God’s strength!”

This puppet, a star point fused with flesh, could not compare to a true Ancient God, yet Ji Xian Tian’s star was no ordinary one. It was born of an eight-star Ancient God, a prize beyond measure.