“Feeble!” a voice choked out, lost in the roar of impending doom.

Within the ephemeral, dreamlike realm forged between the two combatants, a colossal basin yawned. Mountains, once proud sentinels upon its rim, now, at the mere wave of Dao Child’s hand, seemed stripped of their ethereal moorings. They plunged earthward, intent on crushing the cultivators of the Returning Origin Sect huddled within. Around these plummeting peaks, a dozen black-clad figures hovered, their faces masks of cold indifference, some even betraying cruel smiles. They relished the prospect of the Returning Origin Sect’s agonizing demise. But then, in a sudden, crimson eruption, the basin was bathed in blood-red light. From within this scarlet shroud, a sword of pure blood materialized, hurtling toward the descending mountain with a piercing shriek.

All unfolded with impossible speed. In the blink of an eye, the blood sword collided with the mountain’s craggy face. This was no ordinary peak; it was laced with ancient wards and enchantments, which now flared in desperate resistance against the crimson blade.

Yet, the blood sword’s edge could cleave even Third Step Ascendants. Even Tuo Sen’s formidable flesh would yield before it. What chance did this mountain, a mere artifact of Dao Child’s, a trinket of the God Sect, truly stand?

It could not withstand the blood sword.

In a flash, the crimson blade pierced through the mountain’s heart, and in that instant, a web of bloody fissures snaked across its surface. With a deafening roar, the colossal mountain shattered.

Countless fragments rained down, scattering in every direction. Some, however, maintained their descent, a hail of stone aimed at the defenseless cultivators below. The black-clad guardians, startled by this turn of events, reacted instantly, surging toward the blood sword, intent on halting its rampage. But the sword’s speed was beyond comprehension. A crimson blur, it weaved and danced, and with each flicker, falling stones exploded into dust. Then came the screams – agonizing, desperate cries from the descending warriors, each now sporting a crimson hole punched through their chest. Some bore crimson lines etched upon their brows, where the sword had pierced their skulls.

With thunderous impacts, the assassins fell lifeless to the ground. Their souls, unable to escape their dying flesh, dissolved into nothingness.

As they perished, their bodies withered with alarming speed, transforming into desiccated husks, their life force devoured by the blood sword.

It all happened too quickly, a blur of motion impossible to comprehend. But to slow the passage of time would reveal a grim tableau. After shattering the descending stones, the blood sword, upon brushing against each warrior, initiated a rapid desiccation, siphoning their vitality into itself. When the sword finally pierced through their bodies, leaving behind mere skeletons, their souls had already vanished.

Within the illusionary realm of Wang Lin and Dao Child, all of this transpired in the span of mere heartbeats, less than the time it took for Wang Lin to utter the words, “You are not worthy…”

Even as his words echoed across the cultivation star, the blood sword, having finished its slaughter, burst free from the illusionary realm. With its exit, the mere *sight* of carnage became a *reality* of overwhelming bloodlust, as the sword shattered the illusionary veil, spilling its contents forth.

The blood sword at his side, Wang Lin stepped forward, his gaze icy, toward the momentarily stunned Dao Child. He raised his right hand, preparing to strike.

The heavens roared. Though not a Third Step Ascendant, Wang Lin’s body possessed the strength of one. As his hand rose, a colossal palm materialized in the heavens above, blotting out the sun. It descended through Wang Lin’s form, toward the mountains beneath Dao Child. From afar, it was a sight to haunt the soul – Dao Child’s mountain peaks, like a hand reaching up to meet the descending heavenly hand.

Dao Child, his face contorted with rage, flung his sleeves wide. Several seven-colored nails materialized with a deafening crack, hurtling toward Wang Lin. “Insolent whelp! Since you seek death, I shall grant it!” he shrieked. The rainbow nails transformed into streaks of pure energy, colliding with Wang Lin’s ethereal hand.

A thunderous explosion shook the very foundations of the cultivation star. Wang Lin’s hand shattered, and the force from the nails pushed him back several paces. But equally, the nails trembled, thrown back by the force of the blow, spiraling away into the distance.

“Zhou De!” Dao Child cried, coughing up blood as his eyes widened in horror.

He had suspected Wang Lin was powerful, but never imagined such strength. A single palm strike had shattered his rainbow nails and forced him to bleed. Left with no alternative, he called out in desperation. As he cried out, a booming laugh echoed through the heavens, and the bright sky was swallowed by ink, plunging the cultivation star into sudden, unnatural night.

Within this darkness, a spectral figure coalesced, stalking toward Wang Lin. “One takes coin for a service rendered, Dao Child. Do not forget your promise. I offer my aid but once.” The spectral figure solidified into a wizened old man, his face riddled with grotesque boils.

While he bore some resemblance to the Great Desolation Elder of old, he still paled in comparison. He approached Wang Lin, stopping only a hundred paces away.

“Young friend, I would ask for your cooperation in retrieving that Sixth Grade Dao Spirit…” the old man said calmly. In truth, he was wary. He had arrived to steal the Dao Spirit, and had already been observing this fight. But Wang Lin’s earlier strike had given him pause. Though his words were measured, his actions were anything but. As he finished speaking, the darkness behind him churned, and a sea of bottomless mire unfurled, threatening to swallow Wang Lin whole.

Dao Child seized the opportunity, lunging forward from the opposite direction. Two Third Step Ascendants, joining forces to kill one, was an unheard of event, even beyond the borders of this world.

Even as they attacked, a series of concentric ripples materialized behind Wang Lin, approaching with unnerving speed and silence. The ripples revealed themselves to be a string of thirty-two abacus beads, strung together in a line, closing in.

Wang Lin, unperturbed, ignored both the old man and the oncoming beads, and instead, turned to face the charging Dao Child. As he shifted, the ancient god star at his brow flared with violet light. The ethereal form of Spirit Dao Sovereign materialized, without hesitation, and with a grin, launched himself at the old man. Spirit Dao Sovereign raised a hand, and the Violet Sea of Heaven descended, filled with the wails of countless incense souls. In the heart of the violet sea, the towering form of the Spirit Dao Demigod arose, extending its arms outward.

Almost simultaneously, a deafening wolf howl echoed through the cosmos. Zhou Jin’s body twisted and contorted, morphing into a crimson wolf tens of thousands of feet long, throwing himself at the oncoming abacus beads! “Moon Worship of a Pack!” a voice growled. The inky sky was rent asunder by a bloody moon, illuminating the land.

The old man’s abilities clashed against Spirit Dao Sovereign’s might, and as he had only sent a fragment of his soul, his skills in manipulating incense were nothing compared to those of the Sovereign. In the moment the two collided, the Mire of Heaven shattered, and the old man coughed up spiritual energy, retreating with a horrified expression. “Who are you?!” he gasped.

“Slave of my Lord, Spirit Dao!” Spirit Dao Sovereign sneered, giving chase. Meanwhile, Zhou Jin’s crimson moon slammed into the string of abacus beads, and with a series of explosions, they shattered, revealing a horrified, middle-aged man behind them. The man, who had been foolish enough to arrive in person, spat blood and retreated. Zhou Jin, undeterred, lunged forward, extending a hand, his crimson wolf roared, and devoured the man whole!

All of this transpired as Wang Lin closed the distance with Dao Child. The boy’s face was a mask of rage, his voice rising to a shriek.

“Minions of Yin and Yang!”

A colossal rift tore open behind Dao Child, and from within, countless minions poured forth. With a wave of Dao Child’s hand, the minions coalesced into a massive spear, aimed at Wang Lin. The spear contained Dao Child’s entire cultivation, his accumulated incense, and with a flash, the heavens cracked and the very cultivation star began to shatter.