“By the Obsidian Throne, I shall not follow these curs back to the Savage Lands!” roared a voice within Wang Lin’s mind. The shadow of the Black Ape hung heavy, for its deeds had etched Wang Lin’s visage into the very soul of every beast in that forsaken realm. His return would stir a frenzy, a tremor in the tapestry of fate that those with wicked intent would seize upon.

Such unrest would scream of his passage, a glaring fissure in the fortress of his lies. Coupled with the untimely demise of Shi Luo Xing, even the learned scholars of those Sixth Order sects, though they might attribute the serpent’s kiss that ended Shi Luo Xing to the venomous crone of the Five Poison Sect, suspicion would inevitably fester upon Wang Lin.

And suspicion, once sown, would blossom into a ravenous hunt. His very soul would be laid bare before prying eyes, his storage ring rifled through like a pauper’s purse. Such violation was anathema, a harbinger of doom.

He masked his terror with feigned resentment, a cloak woven of common cloth. Who amongst men wouldn’t bristle at such a prospect, yet bow to the inevitable?

But as the eight chosen disciples drew near, and Wang Lin, through the Black Ape, feigned a course change to join their ranks, a chilling resolve hardened within his gaze. The Savage Lands were a tomb, and he would not willingly walk into its embrace.

Eighteen souls stood between him and oblivion. One, a master of the Shattered Nirvana, the rest mere fledglings, their power barely touching the shores of Initial Purification Nirvana.

The deed must be swift, a tempestuous strike to sever the threads of fate before reinforcements arrived. Not a single witness could be left to breathe.

With a stride, Wang Lin unleashed the ancient Art of Wind-Calling, summoning forth five obsidian dragons, their roars shattering the stillness as they lunged towards his chosen prey. Simultaneously, the Black Ape, a whirlwind of muscle and fury, launched its own savage assault.

Wang Lin, a blur of motion, descended upon a disciple of Peeking Nirvana. The youth’s eyes widened in terror, his body recoiling, but his gaze was met not with steel, but with the swift descent of a single, implacable finger.

The digit pierced his brow, a crimson bloom marking its passage. A torrent of annihilating power, born of Purification Nirvana, surged through his veins, shattering his very essence.

Without pause, Wang Lin struck again, a living avalanche crashing into another disciple. A series of precise blows to the chest sent the victim reeling, the echoes of internal explosions preceding a final, bloody exhale.

The obsidian dragons, meanwhile, had engulfed their targets, mere mortals whose cultivation barely grazed the surface of Yang Solid. The ancient sorcery, a gift from the enigmatic Bai Fan, proved overwhelming. Their bodies shuddered, then disintegrated into motes of light.

Two more fell, victims of Wang Lin’s swift justice, while a third, caught in the Black Ape’s earth-shattering grip, was reduced to a crimson paste, his screams swallowed by the void.

The massacre unfolded in the blink of an eye, a scene of such swift brutality it defied comprehension. The eight were reduced to bloody ruin, staining the void around Wang Lin crimson.

Qian Guizhong, leading the procession, spun around, his shock quickly morphing into a predatory snarl. He lunged towards Wang Lin.

Wang Lin’s face was a mask of composure, but within, his spirit writhed. His true form was absent, a circumstance that bound him to the Black Ape. How could he, in this diminished state, hope to stand against a master of Shattered Nirvana?

He had crossed the Rubicon. Eight souls lay extinguished, and there could be no turning back. He surged forward, determined to obliterate the remaining disciples before they could raise the alarm. Should even one escape, Wang Lin would find himself a hunted beast, every shadow in the Cloud Sea Starfield a potential grave.

But the remaining nine, including the disciple of Purification Nirvana, scattered like frightened birds. Qian Guizhong, a wraith of speed, hurled a blast of obsidian energy, seeking to impede Wang Lin’s advance.

Wang Lin’s eyes blazed with frigid light. He invoked the Art of Slaughter, conjuring a swirling vortex of bloodlust around his body, a crimson shield against the coming storm. He charged, a force of nature unleashed.

He collided with Qian Guizhong’s dark magic, the layers of his blood-soaked defense shattering one by one. The power of Shattered Nirvana was not to be trifled with. A blow landed, and Wang Lin coughed blood.

Yet he pressed onward, breaking through the barrier of blackness. He tore through the space between himself and the remaining disciples, his left eye blazing with hellfire. He swept his hand forward, and the void erupted into a sea of inferno. Three disciples of the Azure Purity Sect screamed as the unholy flames devoured them. The remaining six scattered in terror, and Wang Lin, his face pale and strained, prepared to pursue.

Qian Guizhong roared in fury. He performed a complex series of hand seals, and the serpentine spirit beneath him transformed into a black spear. He launched it at Wang Lin.

Seeing his prey scattering and knowing that Qian Guizhong’s power would soon overwhelm him if he paused, Wang Lin grit his teeth. He knew the chasm between their cultivations was too great. A moment’s hesitation would doom him.

As the spear hurtled towards him, Wang Lin spat forth the Seal of Immortal Binding, a prison forged from eighteen hells.

The seal slammed into the path of the spear. The two forces collided. Wang Lin coughed blood as the seal retreated, lodging itself above his head. He lunged towards the nearest disciple, his right hand transformed into a blade of pure green light, aimed at the disciple’s neck.

The disciple’s eyes widened in terror. He raised his arms, conjuring a shield of black energy. But Wang Lin’s attack shattered the shield, severed the disciple’s hands, and unleashed a torrent of destructive energy that detonated his skull.

“Five remain!” Wang Lin cried out, his voice raspy. He summoned a tempest of rain, each drop coalescing into a crystalline dagger aimed at the remaining disciples.

Qian Guizhong descended. He reached into a dimensional rift and withdrew a white horsetail whisk. He flicked it.

An ancient power surged, and a rain of white energy descended upon Wang Lin, each ray as sharp as a blade. Wang Lin looked up, and a suit of crimson armor sprang into existence upon his form.

The white energy struck him. Wang Lin staggered, blood streaming from his mouth, his spirit reeling. One of his legs was mangled by the attack. He retreated, his armor the only thing that saved him from death. Meanwhile, the rain of crystalline daggers found its mark, piercing the flesh of the remaining disciples.

Four of the disciples were utterly destroyed, their bodies obliterated, their souls extinguished. But one, in a moment of desperation, shattered a jade talisman, protecting his soul as he fled.

Wang Lin would not let him escape. He reached into his dimensional rift and unleashed the sword spirit, Xu Liguo. “Kill him, or you die!” Wang Lin roared, his voice reverberating in Xu Liguo’s mind. The sword spirit sped off to intercept the fleeing soul.

Meanwhile, the silver-clad woman emerged and turned her attention to the spirit beasts.

All this transpired in a matter of breaths. He had killed all but Qian Guizhong. For Wang Lin, it had been an ordeal, but he could not rest. The greatest threat remained, and to have any chance of destroying Qian Guizhong, he could not be distracted.

“Had my true body been here, this would have been so much easier,” he muttered. He pointed to the Seal of Immortal Binding, and scores of tormented souls poured forth from the eighteen hells.

Among them were the souls of the Void Wanderer and Tian Yunzi, merged together, his most potent weapons. Their presence alone cast a pall of dread upon the starfield.

Qian Guizhong’s face was twisted in fury. He could not believe that this white-haired youth had unleashed such power, slaying his disciples before his very eyes. And the spells that had landed had not killed him!

But it was the souls that truly shook him. Two of them radiated a terrifying power, a reflection of the cultivation they had possessed in life, power enough to shake the heavens. Though they were but spirits now, their presence still sent a jolt of terror through Qian Guizhong.

With Wang Lin’s command, the souls of the Void Wanderer and Tian Yunzi roared towards Qian Guizhong. But alone, they would not suffice. Wang Lin needed to end this quickly. He reached into his dimensional rift and withdrew the Ironwood Sword.

The very cosmos trembled at its presence. Even the stars themselves seemed to recoil, as if repelled by its immense power.

“Secondary Emptiness!” Qian Guizhong gasped. If the souls had shaken him, the sight of the sword filled him with avarice. He lunged forward.

The gulf between Shattered Nirvana and Purification Nirvana was vast. This would be Wang Lin’s greatest trial. He had to win, and he had to win quickly.