The echo of that voice still shimmered in the air when, deep within the fourth of Torsen’s eight ancient god stars, the scholar awakened. His eyes, cold and merciless, held a flicker of bitter regret.

“Lufu,” he rasped, “I have not forgotten our pact. But I am powerless. *Leave*, and be swift.”

The voice, burdened with ages and etched with sorrow, faded through the rent in reality. As crystalline light blossomed within Torsen’s fourth star, threatening to match the brilliance of the first three, the scholar’s plea waned, until only silence remained.

And in the instant silence claimed it, as the black-clad elder’s face twisted in alarm and a dawning horror touched Wang Lin, knowing even a shard of the ancient god’s lore, the vanished voice of Wuji Zi echoed once more.

This time, it was a primal, furious roar.

“GET OUT!”

Within the fourth star, darkness reigned, broken only by the faintest glimmer of light, the surroundings indistinct. As Torsen stirred, the gloom receded, replaced by the growing brilliance of crystal sparks. The scholar, seated in lotus position, seemed at first unchanged. But a closer look revealed a chilling truth: his lower body had become one with the star’s floor, inextricably bound.

The light that illuminated the chamber did not spring from the void, but bled from the scholar himself. With each crystal spark that emanated from him, his face grew more gaunt, his strength visibly diminished.

Now, bathed in crystalline radiance, his form withered in an instant, reduced to little more than skin and bone, a living skeleton.

Yet, he was not dead, nor could he die. Imprisoned, he would endure the endless ages. It was this fate, this unyielding captivity, that fueled his desperate struggle, contorting his features. With sheer will, he forced his fading power to rise, and unleashed that single, agonized bellow.

The black-clad elder’s eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on the fourth star. In that fleeting moment, he had felt the presence of Wuji Zi emanating from that cursed place.

And yet, when he probed with his spirit, he found nothing.

Recalling Wuji Zi’s plea, dread pierced the elder’s heart, and he retreated without hesitation.

“You cannot escape,” Torsen hissed, his gaze sweeping over them with disdain, the eyes of a god looking on ants. “Such arrogance!”

“You shall be my fifth ancient star, after Wuji Zi!” Torsen’s voice reverberated, and he brought his right foot down. But in that instant, the fourth star erupted in a blinding, chaotic light.

Unlike the others, this light seemed to teeter on the edge of oblivion. Torsen’s foot halted mid-strike.

The black-clad elder, already fleeing, whirled, his hand reaching into the void. He grasped a broken sword, a mere fragment. But even as it appeared, a crushing weight filled the air.

The elder bit his tongue, spraying blood onto the blade, and hurled it towards Torsen.

The broken sword screamed through the void, a tide of killing intent and blade energy unleashed. Torsen, recovering from his moment of hesitation, slammed his foot down, only to roar in pain as crimson light exploded from his foot.

The fragment had pierced the ancient god’s flesh, tearing through bone and sinew, and now surged onward, driven by an unearthly force. It ripped through Torsen’s leg, and headed straight for his face. Its speed dwarfed that of any Shattered Nirvana cultivator, even those touching the threshold of the Celestial Five.

In a heartbeat, the sword emerged from Torsen’s leg, a trail of blood in its wake. And then, in another, it neared Torsen’s brow, targeting the fourth star.

Within that star, the crystalline light blazed with frantic intensity, as if Wuji Zi were making a final attempt to break free. But as the broken sword shattered the star’s defenses, coming within mere feet of its core, a light bloomed within Torsen’s *third* star, and a figure stepped forth.

Emaciated, barely recognizable, his form a skeleton draped in loose skin, his hair wild and unbound, the figure stood. In a single step, he reached the broken sword, and with a casual gesture, he pinched it between his fingers.

It defied description, that simple act. To Wang Lin, it was like watching a river flowing, a profound harmony, a rule that changed, bent to the man’s will.

The sword shuddered, its advance halted. It thrashed, pulsed with arcane energy, but could not escape the grip of those two fingers.

Yet the figure who held it bore a terrible cost. His body shook with silent explosions, close to disintegration. The light in his eyes flared, and the crescent moon mark on his brow grew vivid, etched clearly for all to see.

With a guttural cry, he flicked the broken sword away, sending it hurtling harmlessly into the void.

His task completed, the skeletal man’s chest heaved, and he retreated back into the third star.

Wang Lin could only watch, a bitter taste in his mouth.

The black-clad elder’s eyes flickered, and without hesitation, he banished the broken sword, scattering it to the void. Then he turned and fled, his speed tearing through the fabric of space, threatening to carry him beyond the rift itself.

“You cannot escape me!” Torsen’s eyes burned with an unholy light. His fifth star, dim and lifeless, began to spin, faster, faster, until it became a black vortex. The god was calling on some hidden power, and a storm was brewing.
The errant star, freed from Tuo Sen’s brow, hurtled towards the robed elder.

Yet, in the instant of its escape, a thunderous roar erupted from within Tuo Sen’s fourth star. Crystalline light burst forth, a blinding torrent unleashed to form a barrier, a shimmering cage about the fleeing fifth star.

“Lu Fuzi, flee! I was wrong! A grave error I made, in my desire to seize the ancient god-king’s power, seeking to breach the initial 空涅 stage. Now I face this doom!”

Within the fourth star, Wuji Zi coughed blood, his body wracked with tremors. He clung to the unity with the ancient god, teeth gritted, desperately attempting to halt the fifth star’s devouring. He knew, with chilling certainty, that should Lu Fuzi be consumed, his own hope of liberation would be extinguished forever.

Salvation lay in saving Lu Fuzi, a desperate gambit offering a sliver of hope for a future escape.

The robed elder pressed onward, a single stride warping reality before him. A swirling vortex materialized, a gateway to escape.

At that moment, Tuo Sen’s eyes blazed with icy resolve. Ignoring the imprisoned fifth star, he raised his right hand, drawing it back in a sweeping arc. His immense hand clenched in the void, and violet lightning crackled within the fractured space, coalescing into a colossal spear, its length dwarfing even planets!

The God-Queller Spear!

A true relic of the ancient god-kings, the God-Queller Spear! Gripping it tightly, Tuo Sen’s face twisted into a grimace of fury. With a guttural roar, he hurled the spear forward! It shrieked through the void, a sound that shattered eardrums and minds alike. Empowered by the ancient god’s boundless might, it tore towards the robed elder.

Its speed defied mortal perception, an instantaneous strike. In the blink of an eye, the God-Queller Spear thundered closer, leaving a trail of collapsing space in its wake, a cascade of ephemeral afterimages.

The robed elder’s face darkened. He could plunge into the vortex and escape, but the God-Queller Spear would surely wound him. And should he linger too long, should the fifth star break free, he might be trapped here forever!

But time offered no choice. He lunged into the vortex, hands weaving arcane signs. Before him materialized the shattered sword, dripping with his life’s essence. With a desperate cry, he flung the broken blade towards the God-Queller Spear.

Wang Lin watched the unfolding drama, the raw power of Tuo Sen etching itself upon his soul. The memories gleaned from Tu Si offered only a dim understanding, a pale reflection of the reality before him.

His gaze locked onto the approaching God-Queller Spear. To others, it was an instrument of divine wrath, a reaper of souls. But in Wang Lin’s eyes, it was merely a weapon.

The broken sword met the God-Queller Spear with a silent scream. The blade was dwarfed in comparison, yet it possessed an aura of defiant strength. Their collision was a symphony of suppressed power, a monumental clash that halted the spear’s advance.

A deafening boom echoed through the void. The shattered sword buckled and vanished into nothingness. The God-Queller Spear shuddered, a storm of thunderous echoes rumbling within its core. It hesitated for a breath, then surged forward once more.

He could not allow the robed elder to be consumed by Tuo Sen’s star! It was the single, unwavering thought that burned in Wang Lin’s mind. In that moment of hesitation, he surged forward, unleashing his speed to its very limit, placing himself directly before the approaching God-Queller Spear.

His actions drew a gasp from the robed elder, startled Yan Leizi, and sent a wave of horror through the Eight Kings of the Corpse Yin Sect. Wang Lin closed his eyes. As the God-Queller Spear loomed, his body shattered, crumbling into dust and scattered fragments. But in the instant before his essence was extinguished, he formed a final seal, uttering a command of pure will, a divine whisper aimed solely at the God-Queller Spear.

“By the will of Wang Lin, I halt your advance!”

The God-Queller Spear trembled, but a surge of violent energy erupted from its core. Tuo Sen’s will, a tidal wave of ancient power, crashed against Wang Lin’s fragile soul, and the young cultivator’s consciousness dissolved.

“I have preserved the first ancient god star for you! This is the last thing Wang Lin’s fading consciousness heard.”

With Wang Lin gone, the God-Queller Spear howled onwards. But the brief hesitation, the single tremor, had bought the robed elder precious time. He vanished within the vortex. Yan Leizi, and the Eight Kings of the Corpse Yin Sect, followed close behind.

The God-Queller Spear slammed into the vortex, unleashing a devastating force within its swirling depths. Yan Leizi, barely emerging on the other side, was caught in the storm. He coughed blood, his body weakening as his legs burst apart in a shower of crimson mist. The raging energy tore through his very soul, leaving him shattered.

A bitter laugh escaped him. He loathed Tuo Sen with a burning passion second only to the hatred he held for Chong Xuan Zi! As the devastating force surged toward him once more, Yan Leizi’s eyes burned with madness. He prepared to sacrifice his mortal form, allowing it to explode in a desperate attempt to free his spirit.

But the robed elder appeared beside him, seizing him and vanishing into the shadows.

The Eight Kings of the Corpse Yin Sect barely escaped the vortex, but were immediately struck by the God-Queller Spear’s aftershock. Their bodies trembled, then exploded, leaving behind only eight trails of icy miasma. They reformed as wraiths, desperately attempting to flee, but five of the ethereal figures were instantly obliterated.

The remaining three desperately summoned their coffins, seeking to claim the corpses within and escape once more. But even as they did, the unleashed energy tore through their new forms.

It became a repeating cycle of horror, a journey of less than a thousand feet transforming into an eternal torment. Blood rained down, and another king fell.

The two remaining Kings of the Corpse Yin Sect were nearly driven mad with terror. As the wave of destruction swept towards them, they despaired. But then, a swirling vortex of black mist materialized, and two spectral arms emerged, seizing them and dragging them back towards the collapsing gateway.

“Master!” The two cried out in joy. They offered no resistance, allowing the spectral arms to pull them back into the vortex. In that same instant, the God-Queller Spear’s residual power slammed into the portal, unleashing a wave of energy within. A muffled groan of pain echoed from within, but the unseen being managed to endure. The vortex then winked out of existence.
Upon the moon-kissed peaks of a nameless mountain beyond the Vermillion Bird Star, Wang Lin awoke. A flicker of disorientation passed, then he sprang to his feet with sudden urgency. With a swift gesture, he banished the silver-clad maiden corpse to the hidden rift of his storage, obliterated the arcane array etched into the earth, and with a stride that defied space itself, vanished like a phantom.

He materialized amidst the star-strewn tapestry of the cosmos, a vast distance from the Vermillion Bird’s fiery embrace. Yet Wang Lin did not pause, but hurtled onward with relentless speed. His countenance was a pallid mask, shadowed by a grim foreboding. He, who had known no fear, now felt the chilling tremor of dread. The words of Tuosen echoed relentlessly in his mind.

“The First Star of the Ancient Gods. I have kept it for you!”

“Against Tuosen,” Wang Lin lamented, his voice laced with bitterness, “even having weathered the trials of the Three Plagues and Seven Calamities, even wielding the Trident in my hand, I would be but a plaything beneath his single fist.” He knew not if Tuosen had broken free of his prison, but he understood with chilling certainty that he could no longer linger within the Alliance Star System. He must flee with all haste, and never, ever, return, until he possessed the power to stand against the might of Tuosen.

His form flickered once more, swallowed by the art of Spatial Displacement. He reappeared on a desolate, forgotten world – a sanctuary he had prepared in anticipation of such a desperate hour. It was here, before his audience with the Azure Dragon Holy Emperor at the Four Sacred Sects, that he had woven an intricate web of protective enchantment.