Crimson threaded Wang Lin’s eyes as he fixed his gaze upon the shimmering, convex web that stretched across the void before the palace. Behind that ethereal barrier, the mighty Tuosen roared, his fists a blur as he hammered against the web, desperate to shatter it and claim the palace within.

His gaze, sharp as lightning, pierced the illusionary web, and time itself seemed to struggle against the relentless flow, each moment drawn out in agonizing length.

Eleven breaths, twelve… thirteen!

These three breaths, though fleeting to any observer, stretched for Wang Lin into an eternity of isolation, like three centuries spent in desolate solitude.

Beneath him, the chair’s violent rejection roared like a tempest, its force escalating with each breath, threatening to tear his very flesh asunder. Blood trickled from the corners of Wang Lin’s mouth, the veins on his face throbbing in time with the frantic pounding of his heart.

A guttural, almost inaudible hiss escaped his lips and nostrils. The primal energy within his body surged to its absolute limit, and even the flesh of an Ancient God could not withstand the agonizing stabs of pain that laced his veins.

He felt as though another moment would bring the shattering of his meridians, the bursting of his very blood vessels, the pulverizing of his bones and organs into a bloody pulp.

Amidst the silent roar of his pain, one thought burned in his mind: he could not, he would not, allow the borrowed momentum to dissipate! He must gamble everything!

To yield, to be cast out by the chair’s implacable force, would mean the loss of this once-in-a-millennium opportunity. Such an outcome was simply not to be tolerated.

The six Ancient God stars emblazoned on his brow spun with frantic speed, as the seventh, still nascent, struggled to take form. It grew clearer, more defined, its light growing with an ever-increasing, almost blinding, radiance.

Within his right eye, a vortex of demonic energy churned, revealing the faint glimmer of a demonic star. Then, as the thirteenth breath expired, the impossible occurred: a hazy demonic star materialized within his eye!

The first of his Ancient Devil stars, though still blurred, was a testament to Wang Lin’s defiance, a defiance against the chair’s force, a refusal to let his borrowed power fade.

Yet, the price of those thirteen breaths was steep. A deafening crack echoed through Wang Lin’s form as the flesh and blood below his waist, unable to withstand the crushing pressure, burst open in a shower of gore. The chair was stained crimson, revealing the stark white of the bone beneath.

The pain was a symphony of agony, a torment that would shatter the minds of lesser beings.

“This petty pain? It is nothing compared to the tribulations I have endured!” Wang Lin snarled, his lips twisting into a cold, defiant smile.

Before his eyes, the roars of Tuosen, trapped within the palace’s shimmering web, grew louder, clearer. He was a living weapon tearing at the web, drawing ever closer to Wang Lin’s platform!

Wang Lin could see Tuosen’s enraged features, his earth-shattering fury. Eight stars spun upon his brow, radiating an aura of ancient power.

His fists moved like a storm, each blow sending tremors through the illusory web, threatening to tear it asunder.

Fourteen breaths, fifteen!

With each breath, the chair’s rejection surged, magnified tenfold, like the strike of an unseen fist, seeking to cast him off its seat.

Sixteen breaths. As the sixteenth breath arrived, the recoil from the chair reached its zenith, and then, abruptly, the force vanished, replaced by a momentary, agonizing silence. An instant later, the chair became like a vacuum and the force of rejection turned into the pull of being sucked in.

Wang Lin’s pupils constricted. This was the calm before the storm, a prelude to a devastation beyond imagining!

“Lingdong! Zhou Jin! Resist with all your might!!” Wang Lin roared, his voice laced with urgency.

The chair was not merely drawing upon Wang Lin, but also tapping into the resonant, pulsing heart within the third level. From that heart, an even greater surge of power erupted, tearing through the void and into the chair.

As this power flooded in, the chair’s suction ceased and an earth-shattering, hundredfold surge of force erupted.

Though the chair was a vortex, its tremendous momentum destroyed all of the bones and flesh of Wang Lin’s lower body.

With an echoing roar, Wang Lin’s legs shattered, turning into an eruption of flesh and blood. At the same time, Lingdong Shangren, who shared the brunt of the force, felt his left arm explode.

He stumbled backward, coughing up a torrent of blood, yet he obeyed Wang Lin’s commands. With frantic gestures, he summoned a massive, black statue, the ancestral demon god of his clan, to embrace and hold Wang Lin’s form with its arms.

Zhou Jin of the Feng Tian Wolf Clan paled, the bones within his right arm crackling and shattering into dust as his flesh ripped away, spattering blood across the platform. He roared and summoned an crimson wolf in his place.

Lingdong and Zhou Jin had diverted nearly seventy percent of the chair’s hundredfold surge, leaving only a third to fall upon Wang Lin. It was their sacrifice that allowed Wang Lin to endure the sixteenth breath!

Despite the devastation, the chair’s power was immense. The ancient momentum contained within it surged into Wang Lin’s body, and with that energy, Wang Lin’s seventh star was beginning to form.

In the space of three breaths, the seventh star would appear, complete and perfect!

The Seven-Starred Ancient God was on the verge of being born!
The roar of Tosen grew ever louder, and the ethereal, towering web, stretched taut as a bowstring, drew ever closer to Wang Lin, now a mere thousand fathoms distant!

Within its confines, Tosen’s form swelled with each stride, growing to a colossal height of thousands of fathoms. His fists, like hurtling meteors, crashed against the illusory net, finally causing it to splinter and crack!

“I, a god, command you to open!! Open!! Open!!”

Tosen, oblivious to Wang Lin’s presence, roared with each blow, his face contorted in a grotesque mask of fury and ecstasy.

“Damned Daogu! This legacy should belong to me! In all the starry skies, no other of our blood is worthy. Yet you insist on these accursed obstacles! Are you so blind?!”

Wang Lin’s eyes burned crimson. His lower body had already crumbled, leaving only his torso anchored to the chair. But such pain was nothing; it was meaningless! If he could only retain this vital energy, if he could only ascend to become a Seven-Star Ancient God, all would be restored in an instant!

The restorative power of a Seven-Star Ancient God far exceeded that of a Six-Star!

Seventeen breaths!

The force of the hundredfold backlash surged again, amplified several times over, but upon a foundation already magnified a hundredfold. The resultant power was so immense that even Tosen, were he seated there, would be annihilated!

This boundless surge of recoil coursed through Wang Lin, causing him to spew forth a torrent of blood, his face a mask of crazed defiance.

“You, Daogu Yemo, could sit upon this chair! Why not I, Wang Lin? I shall ascend! See how you can stop me!!”

The counterforce crashed like a tidal wave, surging through Wang Lin’s body and into the spiritual likenesses of Zhou Jin and Ling Dong, created to share his burden. The demonic statue shuddered violently, and then, under the weight of unimaginable power, it splintered and crumbled, its pieces thrown back like shattered dust. Ling Dong, similarly drenched in blood, was hurled from the stone dais, landing heavily on the palace floor.

Zhou Jin’s blood wolf, howling in agony, vanished like mist before a gale. Shudders wracked Zhou Jin’s body as he was thrown back hundreds of fathoms, crashing to the ground with a deafening thud.

They had borne a great portion of the backlash for Wang Lin, but now, they were unable to assist further. All rested on Wang Lin alone!

Seventeen breaths!

Each breath seemed an eternity, yet they passed in a blink. Even as Ling Dong and Zhou Jin were flung aside, the dreaded seventeenth breath arrived!

At that same moment, Tosen’s roar shook the heavens and earth. The illusory net, finally unable to endure, began to collapse in vast swathes. Within, Tosen was poised to burst forth, a mere five hundred fathoms from Wang Lin!

The seventeen breaths had unleashed a recoil power multiplied by hundreds, now amplified severalfold again. Wang Lin, in his weakened state, could not resist. The seventh star point upon his brow spun wildly, nearly complete; only two more breaths remained until it fully manifested!

In that instant, Wang Lin raised his right hand, seizing empty air. With a resounding boom, a petrified body of an Ancient God, hundreds of fathoms tall, hurtled through the air at his command. Wang Lin grasped it in his hand, and with all his remaining strength, hurled it towards the struggling Tosen, trapped within the crumbling web!

A deafening roar echoed as the backlash amplified within the chair and slammed into Wang Lin. Simultaneously, the petrified corpse of the Ancient God struck the illusory net, and then crashed into Tosen, who had broken through, his face contorted in ecstatic anticipation!

As Wang Lin swung the ancient corpse, the crushing recoil surged through his body. He directed it all into his right hand, channeling it swiftly into the petrified body of the Ancient God, focusing it upon Tosen!

The force was too great. Wang Lin’s right arm could not withstand it. As he swung the ancient corpse, his arm disintegrated, yet the corpse of the Ancient God, like a heaven-rending club, delivered the full fury of the recoil upon Tosen’s head!

A bloodcurdling scream echoed from Tosen’s throat. His body erupted in a thunderous roar as he coughed up blood and was hurled back into the depths!

“Wang Lin!!!”