The Crimson Dragon, of course, took notice of Wang Lin, yet in its ancient eyes, this cultivator was but an ant. In the heart of its Nightfall Dominion, it knew the mortal would perish before even nearing its form!

And so it seemed, for as Wang Lin dared to approach within a hundred feet of the dragon’s monstrous hide, a Void descended, swallowing all in darkness once more. But this time, fate decreed, the shadows would hold a significance unlike any before. This time, the encroaching darkness would bring Wang Lin to the attention of the enigmatic Black-Robed Elder for the very first time! All because of Wang Lin’s defiance!

In the face of the Void’s encroaching darkness, Wang Lin’s mind was illuminated with a spark of comprehension, birthed from his own arcane art of the Fading Dawn. This understanding transcended the boundaries of mere cultivation.

The Fading Dawn held within it a sliver of Primordial Essence, the very genesis of all light and law. In its presence, all darkness must yield!

Yet the threads of existence are woven with duality. Where there is a genesis, there must also be an end. The encroaching Nightfall was born of this terminal rule, the antithesis of all creation!

As the Void’s darkness threatened to consume him, Wang Lin found himself bereft of the familiar warmth of nascent power. With the fierce resolve of his cultivation, he forcefully ignited his Fading Dawn. He sought not to vanquish his foe, but merely to carve a space for survival within this encroaching abyss.

In the eternal darkness, devoid of any light, a single beacon flickered into existence. This nascent sun was but a tiny spark in the face of such overwhelming shadows, yet it endured, unyielding!

Enveloped by this radiance, Wang Lin felt as though his very being was consumed in flames. His strength waned, his spiritual core blazed with a feverish heat, and even his petrified flesh seemed to crumble in the inferno.

Yet in this conflagration, he pierced the encroaching darkness, traversing the hundred-foot expanse, and plunged into the gaping wound upon the Crimson Dragon’s hide, where dark crimson blood glimmered with embedded power!

The moment he breached the dragon’s flesh, Wang Lin, heedless of the ravaging flames consuming him, unleashed a sweeping gesture with his right hand. Vast quantities of the dragon’s crystalline blood vanished into his enchanted pouch.

A joyous elation washed over him, mingled with a pang of regret. Never had he imagined he would find the Blood of the Ancient God here! He knew well the truth of this forsaken place, that Tuosen had claimed all the heart’s blood of the Ancient God. To wrest it from Tuosen’s grasp would be an impossible task!

He had gained the blood, and with it, a surge of heady excitement. But in doing so, he had sacrificed the chance to observe Tuosen’s true might, a sacrifice that left him deeply regretful.

As the Void’s Nightfall began to dissipate, the flames consuming Wang Lin’s spiritual core reached their zenith, threatening to shatter his very soul and plunge him into eternal oblivion. To forcefully wield the Fading Dawn at his current level was proving too much…

But in that pivotal moment, the Black-Robed Elder, whose attention had been piqued by the sudden emergence of light in the darkness, cast his gaze upon Wang Lin. A strange glimmer ignited in his eyes, and the puzzle that had plagued his mind seemed to unravel, triggered by the light that defied the encroaching darkness.

With a single stride, he appeared beside the wounded Crimson Dragon. He extended his hand, casually flicking a finger towards the beast. The dragon shuddered violently, its roars echoing with agony as its colossal form recoiled in terror, its innards seemingly on the verge of utter collapse!

As Wang Lin’s form blurred before the Elder’s eyes, he was plucked from within the dragon’s flesh by the Elder’s unseen hand and delivered before him.

The Elder’s hand pressed against Wang Lin’s brow, unleashing an unimaginable surge of power that flooded his being. With a series of resounding impacts, Wang Lin was jolted back to awareness. His depleted essence was instantly replenished, and his ravaged spiritual core was miraculously restored. His body, teetering on the brink of annihilation, was rejuvenated, its life force revitalized! All in the blink of an eye! “A remarkable youth, indeed!” The Elder exclaimed, a hint of admiration in his eyes. “And remarkably clever…Since your wisp of a self came here seeking to witness the ancient godly power, this old man shall grant you your wish!”

Wang Lin’s mind reeled, his secret thoughts laid bare. His eyes narrowed in alarm, but quickly returned to their normal composure. The Elder’s admiration deepened, and he turned his gaze away from Wang Lin, ignoring the Crimson Dragon as it continued its desperate retreat. Instead, he raised his right hand and pointed towards the celestial vortex!

With a single gesture, a mere flick of a finger, Wang Lin perceived the potential to shatter the very fabric of the heavens. He recalled the image of this very Elder, with a single blow, collapsing the barriers between Luotian and the Alliance worlds!

The celestial vortex faltered, its swirling motion arrested by the Elder’s ethereal touch. It began to dissipate, revealing the crimson world hidden within, a landscape devoid of its crimson sea. Within this realm, a solitary, spire-like peak pierced the sky. Atop that peak stood a solitary figure!

His crimson hair danced in the wind, and his eyes blazed with a fierce, crimson light. A light filled with malice, embodying an unyielding arrogance! Few would dare to scrutinize his face, for in such a mesmerizing display of power, all eyes were drawn to those captivating orbs.

“Tuosen!” Wang Lin breathed, a complex tapestry of emotions swirling within him. Their fates were intertwined, bound by destiny. Had Wang Lin never appeared, Tuosen would have reclaimed his memories long ago, freeing himself to roam the cosmos within the stolen form of Tu Si!

For Tuosen was but a shadow, a fragment of Tu Si, born from the fractured mind of a god who had failed the art of Soul-Splitting. But whether shadow or spirit, Tuosen was the true Ancient God, the regal scion of a forgotten dynasty!

In comparison, Wang Lin’s Ancient God body, forged by the Ancient God Art and nurtured by a series of improbable fortunes, had reached the paltry rank of a Five-Star Ancient God. He was all too aware of the imperfections that marked his imperfect vessel! As Tuosen, the crimson-eyed being from beyond the vortex, turned his gaze towards him, the complexity in Wang Lin’s eyes gave way to an icy calm. The two, bound by fate’s cruel hand, stood silently, separated by vortex and dimensions, yet forever intertwined.
With a subtle tic at the corner of his lips, Thorson stirred, his heavy footfall breaking the silence as he strode forth. One step carried him beyond the spire-like peak, planting him firmly upon the swirling vortex. His gaze, sharp as shattered obsidian, swept across the desolate expanse.

Yan Leizi, meeting Thorson’s unwavering stare, felt a tremor run through his very being. A sound, foreign and unwelcome, filled his ears – the frantic thumping of his own heart. Dry-mouthed and pallid as a tombstone, Yan Leizi recoiled, unable to withstand the weight of Thorson’s gaze. Before him stood a man, or so he seemed, yet he radiated the immensity of the heavens themselves.

“Insignificant,” Thorson uttered, contempt dripping from the word. His eyes, like twin suns of judgment, shifted to the eight Kings of the Corpse Yin Sect, the scorn in his expression deepening. “At least the worthless still draw breath. You are less than even they.”

The eight Kings, figures of unparalleled authority within their shadowy order, were diminished in Thorson’s sight, falling even lower than the cowardly Yan Leizi. They paled, stumbling backward as if struck by a physical blow, a palpable terror seizing them. It was as if the man before them, in a single burst of fury, could shatter the very fabric of existence.

They had never witnessed Thorson’s true power, yet a primal fear gripped them, a sense of dread born of something deeper than logic. A profound understanding, both mystical and undeniable, whispered to them the truth of his nature. Thorson was divine! An Ancient God of eight stars! And they? Merely mortals, mere practitioners of mortal arts…

“A scion… an Ancient God’s soul!” The words, spoken in a low and steady tone, came from an old man cloaked in shadow, his face impassive.

Thorson’s gaze, cold and unwavering, settled upon the elder. “At least one among you is not entirely bereft of worth.”

Unmoved by the insult, the old man offered a faint, knowing smile. With a casual flick of his hand, the void between himself and Thorson convulsed. The nothingness itself seemed to shatter, creating a tempest of unseen energies that hurtled toward the Ancient God! Thorson, unfazed, met the onslaught by planting his feet and driving a fist forward.

The very heavens shuddered, the void trembling under the force of the blow. From the distant reaches of the cosmos, Broken Soul cultivators, drawn by the disturbance, arrived just in time to witness the devastation. Their faces contorted in terror and awe. Wang Lin, even at a distance, felt the raw power of the strike wash over him, leaving him pale and shaken.

The impact of the punch reverberated through the void, reaching a crescendo of destruction. A colossal rift tore open between Thorson and the old man, the sound of its creation a deafening shriek. The chasm widened, stretching endlessly into the void, until it appeared to split the very fabric of existence in twain! The scene was akin to a vast tapestry being rent asunder, leaving two separate and distinct realms.

The opening of the rift cleaved the space where Thorson stood, creating two separate realities. The old man stepped forward, vanishing in a flicker of shadows to reappear on the far side of the tear. Without uttering incantations or weaving intricate signs, he swept his sleeve. Instantly, a cacophony of echoes filled the air as colossal glacial peaks materialized, surging to encompass an area of ten thousand leagues!

Ten thousand leagues! All frozen solid, a landscape of jagged ice. The glacial peaks, unstable and groaning, began to crumble, each shard and avalanche aimed with deadly precision at Thorson.

“Petty magic! Even if you have reached the Empty Nirvana, even if you have grasped the fundamental laws, what does it avail you?!” Thorson roared, an arrogance that dwarfed even the heavens blazing in his eyes. He launched another earth-shattering punch.

“We, the Ancient God Clan, do not traffic in laws and regulations, for those very laws are what our clan is destined to shatter!” As Thorson’s fist struck, a cacophony of grinding sounds echoed across the frozen world. Cracks erupted across the landscape, spider-webbing across the charging glaciers and the frozen earth itself. In a single, devastating moment, all of it dissolved beneath the force of his strike!

The old man reappeared, his face etched with newfound seriousness. The shattered ice roared upward in a tempestuous whirlwind, but amid the devastation, Thorson began to ascend.

“I shall allow you to witness the true might of my clan!” Thorson’s eyes did not linger on the old man. Instead, his gaze settled upon Wang Lin. As he did, his crimson form began to dissipate, slowly fading into the void.

The void trembled once more, new cracks blossoming like scars across the landscape as if some unbound rage sought to rip reality asunder. Above, where Thorson had vanished, a massive vortex began to form, its swirling depths exuding a palpable force of attraction. The old man, his composure unshaken, stepped calmly into the heart of the swirling abyss.

“Come, follow. What comes next… is the true power of the Dark Ancient God!” The old man’s voice echoed, tinged with an otherworldly resonance. Wang Lin, his mind reeling, did not hesitate. He stepped into the vortex, a knot of apprehension tightening in his chest. He knew, with a growing sense of dread, that this swirling gateway led to the dimensional rift where the slumbering body of Tu Si lay dormant.

Within that hidden realm, deep within the dimensional tear, the colossal form of Tu Si stirred. His body, vast enough to dwarf entire star systems, flexed a single finger on a massive, weathered hand. His coarse face, etched with the passage of eons, remained still, but those eyes, closed for an age beyond reckoning, sealed shut since the dawn of time, slowly… deliberately… opened.