Lin, in a desperate flight, attempted to stow the jade vial within his spatial pouch. Yet the artifact proved stubbornly resistant, defying his efforts. He had, in truth, anticipated this; were it so easily contained, the elder Cangsong would have long since secreted it away, rather than bear it in hand. Spurred by twin speed talismans, he moved with the swiftness of lightning, a meteor hurtling towards the horizon.

From the heavens descended a colossal digit, woven from strands of iridescent light. A deafening roar heralded its approach, closing relentlessly upon Lin. In its wake came the Qing-clad crone, her three strands of life-severing energy in relentless pursuit.

Beset by the combined might of these two masters of the Shattered Nirvana realm, Lin’s eyes gleamed with a frigid resolve. He dared to snatch treasure from the jaws of the tiger, and he would not be undone.

Abruptly halting his flight, Lin whirled about. In an instant, his form began to swell, an aura of primeval divinity suffusing the iridescent realm. Undulating waves emanated from his skin as he grew, inch by painstaking inch, to ten, fifty, then a hundred fathoms… until he stood a colossus of three hundred fathoms!

Upon his brow, five pristine Ancient God stars spun in rapid orbits, a sixth shimmering with nascent existence. His vast hide was coarse, etched with a dense tapestry of rune-like markings.

The sight of this gargantuan being struck a primal terror into all who beheld it. Cangsong’s pupils shrank to pinpricks; never had he witnessed such a transformation. The crone’s eyes widened with disbelief. Without hesitation, Lin, now embodying the true essence of an Ancient God, faced the descending Hand of Heavenly Fortune and unleashed a thunderous punch.

It was the Fist of the Ancient God incarnate, its power shaking the very foundations of the world. Infused with the will to defy fate itself, the blow carried the weight of ages.

The clash was cataclysmic. Lin’s gargantuan fist met the celestial finger, unleashing a shockwave that ripped through the air. The Hand of Fortune, bombarded by this raw power, began to crumble, iridescent fragments scattering like shattered jewels. The disintegration accelerated, until the entire digit dissolved in a spectacular display, leaving behind only shimmering motes of light.

In the blink of an eye, Lin used the force of the impact to propel his colossal form forward. Each stride covered immeasurable distances, until he reached the foot of a mountain range that stood like an impenetrable wall. With a thunderous stomp, he launched himself skyward, vaulting over the impassable barrier as the tendrils of life-severing energy snaked towards him.

High above the mountain peaks, Lin clenched his fist, ripping a rent in the fabric of the iridescent world.

A gargantuan trident, black as night, emerged from the tear with a howling gale. The weapon, spanning over four hundred fathoms, resembled a heaven-piercing spear, its very presence radiating an awe-inspiring pressure.

Wreathed in an intense aura of Ancient God power, Lin seized the trident. Three black lines sliced through the air from its tines, hissing as they seemed to rend the very void.

Brandishing the trident, Lin stood atop the mountain, a god incarnate. He whirled, sweeping the weapon towards the encroaching energy.

The life-severing tendrils coalesced into three strands, poised to strike. But as the trident swept across their path, Lin channeled his divine power into the weapon. The tines pulsed with black energy, slicing through the strands with lethal precision.

With a deafening roar, the strands were severed. As the trident’s dark energies intensified, the tines transformed into three black dragons. Their jaws gaped wide, devouring the remnants of the severed energy. In the aftermath, three new sigils appeared upon the trident’s shaft.

Lin now held a three-headed black dragon, its serpentine forms writhing in fury. Their draconic eyes, burning with primal rage, locked upon Cangsong and the Qing-clad crone.

Lin’s gaze, cold and implacable, fell upon his pursuers, his eyes as chilling as a winter’s gale.

“Heaven-sent treasures belong to those who claim them, not to those who covet them!” Lin’s voice boomed across the land. “Persist in this chase, and you shall meet the fate of that celestial finger, the doom of those life-severing tendrils. Do not mistake my mercy for weakness!” With a final turn, Lin strode away, leaving Cangsong and the crone gasping in astonishment.

“That… that is…” Cangsong stammered, his mind reeling. He had witnessed countless body cultivation techniques, but never one capable of manifesting such a colossal form. And more astounding still, that towering silhouette felt undeniably real! The Qing-clad crone, her face ashen, glared at Lin’s retreating form and gritted her teeth, vowing to continue the pursuit.

Despite his shock, Cangsong could not relinquish his prize. Years of preparation, fortunes spent on rare artifacts – he would not let it slip through his fingers. With bloodshot eyes, he resumed the chase, his right hand mending his severed left arm with a surge of iridescent energy.

Lin vaulted the mountain range without hesitation, his footfalls creating shockwaves in his wake. He quickly arrived at the valley where he had laid his trap, ready to spring into action.

At that moment, the Qing-clad crone, her eyes burning with malice, thrust her hands towards the valley, activating the ancient array she had left there.

The verdant valley floor turned to brittle ash. In an instant, a swirling vortex formed, seeking to engulf Lin.

Lin grunted in pain as his momentum faltered in the array’s grip. Behind him the vortex of ash roared, as the old woman rushed into the center of her trap.

Cangsong trailed behind, but he hesitated at the edge of the valley. Though the years had dulled his reflexes, his senses remained keen, and he scented a trap. Rather than charge blindly forward, he circled around the danger zone, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

With a sudden twist of his wrist, Lin reversed the flow of the vortex, sending the swarm of ash hurling towards the Qing-clad crone.

Simultaneously, countless runes erupted from the ground, binding the crone in chains of arcane energy.

This vortex, created by the crone, soon trapped the crone. From within, a great roar could be heard, clearly indicating that this enemy was in peril.

Cangsong, witnessing this, felt a wave of horror wash over him. He realized that the crone, not he, had been tricked. The valley, a moment before a treasure trove, was now a prison, the locks controlled by Lin.

“He knows the ways of the arcane arts!” Cangsong exclaimed as the other struggled in her bonds. The situation demanded a new plan. “With the harridan trapped, I have a chance to slay our quarry, take the prize, and be on my way.” In a flash of decisiveness, he skirted around the valley and summoned a swarm of golden warriors, ordering them to strike Lin down.

Lin, who had anticipated such a move, responded in kind. He had no hope of facing both masters, thus he sought to divide and conquer.

Cangsong approached, intent on bloodshed. With a wave of his hands, he conjured a shimmering blade, its edges reflecting the world around it like a mirror. Lin’s eyes narrowed. This was no ordinary weapon.

Cangsong roared and flung his blade at the youth, a whirlwind of speed and arcane energy.

The sight of his opponent energized Lin. As the foe approached, Lin readied his trident, ordering his three black dragons to intercept the crystalline blade.

From within the trident sprang the sigils earned from consuming the threads of life and death. These, combined with the dragons, formed a force that could either sustain or destroy.

This was the true power of the trident!