Grasping the rust-eaten iron sword, as Qian Guizhong advanced, Wang Lin retreated swiftly. With a thrust of his left hand, the spirits of the Void Wanderer and Heavenly Fate soared forth with a howling cry.

These two battle-spirits were, save for the sliver of his origin within his brow, Wang Lin’s most potent display of arcane might. Combined with his trump card, the iron sword, it was an all-out gamble.

For this was not the Azure Mystic Realm of old, where he possessed a primeval body of unmatched resilience, able to withstand any spell or strike with brute force. Nor did he have the limitless wellspring of ancient god power, capable of unleashing earth-shattering blows with a single fist. The chance to unleash the Waning Moon art was absent, and even his Azure Light Shield had been lost amidst the realm’s collapse, along with the eight-star ancient god’s life-saving Dream of Ages. Now, Wang Lin was but a lone cultivation avatar, and to slay a Shattered Nirvana cultivator was an arduous task indeed!

His right leg was a mangled mess, pierced by the incandescent light of Qian Guizhong’s art. Within the wound, the weight of a Shattered Nirvana cultivation stirred, a touch of cosmic law tearing through his flesh.

Had it not been for the ancient god hide protecting his nascent soul, it would have surely shattered. Fortunately, Wang Lin’s physical form was no ordinary vessel, having been tempered in the sacred fires of the Vermilion Bird Sect, infused with the power of thunder and flame.

Thus, he had survived Qian Guizhong’s attack, wounded but not vanquished. The power of a Shattered Nirvana cultivator was something Wang Lin knew well from his perilous journey.

He could not afford delay. He had to end this battle quickly, to slay this Shattered Nirvana cultivator at all costs! As he pointed with his left hand, the spirits of the Void Wanderer and Heavenly Fate surged towards Qian Guizhong’s bell.

Even Qian Guizhong, faced with these two formidable spirits, was wary. In all his battles, he had never encountered a Nirvana Cleanser capable of wielding such power, capable of threatening a Shattered Nirvana cultivator.

The spirit of Heavenly Fate, in particular, was nearly berserk. With rapid hand seals, it conjured spells that appeared blurred and indistinct, yet they manipulated the very laws of heaven and earth, aimed directly at Qian Guizhong.

And the spirit of the Void Wanderer, whose cultivation had reached the first decline of the Celestial Realm before his demise, unleashed storms of wind and thunder, clashing against Qian Guizhong’s own techniques.

Had Wang Lin possessed the luxury of time, the spirits of Heavenly Fate and the Void Wanderer could have slowly ground Qian Guizhong to dust. But Wang Lin did not have that time, nor the vast reservoir of immortal force required to sustain these potent spirits indefinitely. To conjure soldiers from thin air demanded a fearsome toll on his energies!

As the spirits of the Void Wanderer and Heavenly Fate engaged Qian Guizhong in a fierce battle, Wang Lin raised his right hand, focusing his gaze on the iron sword. With a downward slash, a beam of sword-light erupted, transforming into a vast, ethereal blade that descended upon Qian Guizhong’s head.

He did not cease there. Wang Lin closed his eyes, relinquishing control of the iron sword, allowing it to unleash its own power. It was as if the iron sword had become an extension of Wang Lin’s own arm, dragging him into the fray, delivering yet another strike.

In the void, arcs of light suddenly appeared, each one marking the passage of a sword. Each swing devoured a significant portion of Wang Lin’s own energy.

The sword-light swirled like a blooming flower, forming an elaborate and dazzling display around Qian Guizhong.

Thirteen strikes landed in the blink of an eye! Wang Lin, pulled along by the blade, swung his right arm with a terrifying momentum, as if the very cosmos moved with each thrust, becoming an unstoppable force!

All of this happened in an instant. Qian Guizhong, entangled by the spirits of the Void Wanderer and Heavenly Fate, frantically performed incantations and unleashed his magical artifacts. He was visibly paling, having only recognized the iron sword as a Lesser Emptiness Nirvana treasure. But even among such treasures, there existed a hierarchy.

He could not have imagined the terrifying power of this particular blade. Even now, though the sword-light enveloped him, he could not find an opening to escape. With a guttural roar, he sought to break free of the two death-spirits that bound him.

But at that very moment, Wang Lin’s closed eyes snapped open. His face ashen, he drew the iron sword back with his right hand, his eyes blazing with murderous intent. With a series of swings, he unleashed six more strikes!

Nineteen strikes in total had drained nearly sixty percent of Wang Lin’s energy. As he retreated, the nineteen ethereal swords materialized around Qian Guizhong. With his cultivation base, he could have executed more strikes, but the consequences of exhausting his vital energy while wielding this sword were dire. Thus, he had forcibly halted the blade’s power. Before the nineteenth strike, he could maintain control, but beyond that point, he would be at the mercy of the sword, forced to execute its techniques until his strength was utterly depleted. “Sever!” Wang Lin roared, and the nineteen ethereal swords descended in unison, forming a relentless wave of strikes aimed straight at Void Wanderer!

The scene unfolded with impossible speed. Qian Guizhong was utterly defenseless against the nineteen Emptiness Nirvana swords. A cacophony of explosions reverberated across the void as the sword-light tore through Qian Guizhong’s body. His physical form shuddered, then exploded into nineteen pieces, scattering blood and viscera!

A piercing shriek arose as Qian Guizhong’s body was destroyed. Being a Shattered Nirvana cultivator, his nascent soul emerged from his skull in a moment of sheer desperation, seizing his whisk artifact and fleeing into the distance.

His mind was filled with disbelief and terror. He was certain that this white-haired cultivator knew of the Sky Breaker Sect and the pill formula. He felt as if Shi Luo Xing’s death was somehow linked to him.

“From what sect does this man hail, to wield such a powerful treasure? Could it be… could it be someone from Xiuxing Domain?!” The thought shook Qian Guizhong to his very core. He fled with his nascent soul, determined to share this information with his fellow disciples!

He knew reinforcements were not far behind. He just had to endure for a little longer!

Wang Lin’s face was pale. The moment Qian Guizhong’s nascent soul escaped, a flame ignited in his left eye. Instantly, he was engulfed in a raging inferno, a roaring sea of fire. Upon closer inspection, one would see that this sea of fire was not a single layer, but nine! The Nine Transformations!
As the ninefold sea of fire blazed into existence, it imploded with savage speed, coalescing upon Wang Lin’s form. With a thunderous roar, his very essence ignited, and he lunged forward in a single, earth-shaking stride.

But the flesh of his mortal coil dissolved even as he moved, replaced by a colossal Vermillion Bird of pure white light, scores of feet in span—Wang Lin reborn! With a flap of its wings, it unleashed a tidal wave of fire, overtaking Qian Guizhong and hurtling towards his very spirit.

Qian Guizhong’s ethereal eyes widened in terror, a strangled shriek escaping his lips. He felt the chilling embrace of impending death once more. With no time for thought, madness bloomed within his eyes as his hands weaved arcane signs. A wave of apocalyptic energy pulsed from within his being.

In desperation, he chose the path of spiritual detonation. Yet, such was his mastery that even in self-destruction, he held dominion. His arms erupted in a maelstrom of power, a tempest unleashed upon the approaching Vermillion Bird. In that same breath, the spirit vessel upon which his soul anchored—a whisk of ancient design—shattered into a blizzard of silver threads, hurtling towards the avian form. Still, nothing could halt the Bird’s fiery onslaught. It slammed into him with devastating force, engulfing Qian Guizhong in an inferno of cleansing flame.

Agonizing cries echoed through the void as Qian Guizhong’s spirit withered and shrank. Without pause, he retreated, desperately fleeing the all-consuming fire.

Even in flight, his hands continued to conjure sigils, and a spectral serpent emerged to envelop his form. The soul of his bonded beast, it appeared for the briefest of moments before collapsing inward, consumed in an instant by Qian Guizhong’s desperate need.

Having devoured his own spirit companion, Qian Guizhong fled with unrelenting haste.

The Vermillion Bird dissipated, and Wang Lin rematerialized, his chest a gruesome wound of rent flesh where countless pale threads pierced his form. His gaze, cold and unwavering, locked upon the fleeing Qian Guizhong.

“Spirit of Tian Yun, meld with my divine thought!” Forsaking the binding magic, Wang Lin pointed to the nearby soul of Tian Yunzi. With a flicker of ethereal light, the ancient spirit became a stream of eldritch power, flowing directly into Wang Lin.

Wang Lin’s body shuddered, and a profound stillness settled upon his eyes. It was the stillness of one who knew all, who comprehended the very fabric of existence. In all his long life, only Tian Yunzi himself had possessed such serene clarity.

Empowered by Qing Lin’s Boon, Wang Lin grasped the deeper truths of Bai Fan’s craft. The Art of Casting Soldiers was not mere conjuration; at its apex, it allowed for the very integration of a soul into one’s own will.

Ignoring the ever-distant figure of Qian Guizhong, Wang Lin slowly closed his eyes. Then, his left hand rose, a single finger pointing into the void.

Instantly, a tempest roared into being, a maelstrom of swirling mists and shimmering amber ripples. At the heart of this chaotic power, a colossal hand manifested, its forefinger bent in a half-clenched fist. The Tian Yun Finger had arrived.

With his own flesh as the catalyst and the will of Tian Yun’s spirit as the guide, the Tian Yun Finger descended upon the Cloud Sea Starfield. With immeasurable power and unfathomable speed, it hurtled toward Qian Guizhong’s fleeing spirit. No matter how he twisted and turned, he could not escape its inexorable embrace.

With a final, earth-shattering boom, the Tian Yun Finger supplanted all else in the heavens. Qian Guizhong’s spirit shattered in despair, dissolving into a shower of glimmering motes, and the Tian Yun Finger vanished along with it.

Silence reigned. From start to finish, the battle had lasted but a fleeting moment. Claiming the spoils of victory, Wang Lin set off into the distance.

“Were I whole, this day would not have demanded such hardship. Three Destructions and Seven Tribulations… I pray I can survive them…” Wang Lin clutched at his chest, where the ghostly white strands pulsed with agony.

His eyes ablaze with icy resolve, Wang Lin altered his course and disappeared into the starry abyss.

Five days later, as the distant shores of Moro Continent rose on the horizon, Wang Lin finally allowed himself a breath of relief. He had spent the last days plotting his path, keenly aware of the danger lurking in the cosmos. He had elected to weave a great detour, and Fortune favored him; he had encountered no other cultivators.

Little did Wang Lin know that soon after Qian Guizhong’s demise, news of Shi Luo Xing’s death had reached the ears of other sects. The word spread like wildfire, and the space around the Barren Wildlands was sealed with haste.

The death of Qian Guizhong, in particular, had sent shockwaves through the ranks of the Hua Qing Sect. With the cosmos under lockdown, a frantic search for the killer ensued, but Wang Lin was already far beyond their grasp.

The Sixth Grade cultivators discovered the shattered remains of Shi Luo Xing within the valley, swiftly concluding that the Five Poison Sect was to blame. Confronted by the accusatory gazes of numerous sects, the Five Poison Sect could offer no explanation. Unbeknownst to Wang Lin, a hidden war was brewing in the Fifth Grade Starfield.

Returning to Moro Continent, Wang Lin blazed like a meteor toward the Returning Origin Sect. He understood that the coming days would be fraught with peril, that Sixth Grade cultivators would launch a massive, coordinated search. His identity as a disciple of the Returning Origin Sect was more valuable than ever.

Wang Lin’s arrival went largely unnoticed by the sect. He appeared almost instantly at the Medicine Courtyard of the South Garden, where he found Sun Yun meditating before her quarters, her expression surprised.

“You…” Sun Yun began, but Wang Lin cut her short with a wave of his hand. A mountain of herbs materialized between them. “These are your herbs!” he declared, before disappearing into his dwelling.

Sun Yun could only gape at the verdant pile before her. Her experienced eyes recognized numerous rare and difficult-to-obtain specimens. Their value far exceeded what Wang Lin had consumed.

She stood there, stunned for what felt like an eternity, before finally letting out a sigh of relief. Ever since Wang Lin’s departure, her master had scolded her relentlessly. She had been consumed with worry that this Zeng Niu, this senior, might disappear forever, leaving her to face the wrath of the Purple Dao Sect.
Within the humble dwelling, Wang Lin sat, legs crossed in meditation. His brow was furrowed with concern, his face pale despite the rhythmic breaths he drew. His right hand, trembling slightly, pressed against his chest, tapping a silent rhythm. Soon, a ghostly luminescence bloomed upon his breast, spectral threads of white, writhing as they forced their way from his flesh.

These agonizing tendrils, like parasitic worms, twisted and writhed with an unnatural energy. With a swift, desperate motion, Wang Lin seized the nearest, his fingers clamping around the shimmering threads. A sharp, tearing sound echoed in the chamber as he yanked them free, leaving behind wounds that blossomed into crimson stains upon his robe.

He gazed upon the captive threads, his eyes hardening into chips of glacial ice. With a grimace, he crushed them within his fist. A series of faint pops, like dying embers, marked their demise as they crumbled into ash and drifted away. He inhaled deeply, drawing strength from the air, and continued his grim task, relentlessly expelling the insidious white filaments from his tormented body. The long road had offered him little respite, the battle against this internal corruption consuming nearly every waking moment. Now, but a few remained.

On the third day after his return to the Sect of Returning Essence, the last of the white threads were purged. Wang Lin watched, his gaze piercing, as the final filament disintegrated into dust. A triumphant light ignited within his eyes.

With a flick of his wrist, he rent the very fabric of space, summoning forth a shimmering tear that revealed his hidden storage. From within, a jade slip and a weathered scroll, upon which was inscribed the formula for a potent elixir of beast bones, materialized and settled into his waiting hand.

He inhaled deeply, savoring the moment of respite. Since acquiring these treasures, he had found little opportunity to properly study them. Now, with the inner corruption vanquished, he unleashed the power of his spirit, ready to delve into their mysteries.

But his focus was shattered. His eyes snapped open, alert. Instantly, he banished the jade slip and the scroll back into their ethereal prison. With a blurring rush, he vanished from the room, plunging deep into the earth, towards the hidden sanctuary where his true self resided.

“The tribulation approaches!” he breathed, a grim understanding settling upon him.