Thus, the man, seated in a lotus position, faced Wang Lin directly, allowing him to observe the final expression etched upon the deceased’s face. It was a most peculiar visage—a ghastly blend of elation and terror! As if the man had initially been seized by a fit of ecstatic joy, as though he were in the throes of absorbing the very essence of the Black Tortoise, only to be abruptly struck by a horrifying revelation in his moment of supreme rapture, leading to his demise and this unsettling confluence of emotions.

Wang Lin did not recognize the man’s countenance, yet a strange, almost innate sense of familiarity washed over him. This, he suspected, was none other than the Black Tortoise Sacred Emperor, who had long ago betrayed the Sacred Sect of the Dishes and thrown his lot in with the Alliance of Cultivators!

To the Four Sacred Sects, and especially to the Elder Sacred Emperor, the defection of the Black Tortoise had always been a bewildering enigma. Why would he forsake his kin to become a mere pawn of the cultivators?

But in this moment, as Wang Lin gazed upon the fallen Black Tortoise, upon the lifeless features of this middle-aged man, a chilling hypothesis began to form in his mind.

The colossal Black Tortoise statue, as it stood before Wang Lin, bore a striking resemblance to the two gargantuan dragons he had encountered within the ancient God’s Tomb. The aura that emanated from it was immensely potent!

Though tainted by the pallor of death, the sheer might the statue once possessed in life was enough to stir even Wang Lin’s soul. After a cursory inspection, he averted his gaze and strode forward, his target the summit of the tallest peak.

Behind him, the ten thousand cultivators upon the ten thousand mountains expelled a torrent of blood-mist that coalesced into a vast, ominous cloud, surging towards Wang Lin. Yet, he paid it no heed. His speed was such that he reached the summit in a blink.

As he drew near, a bestial roar, filled with maddened anguish, erupted from the peak, reverberating across the land in earth-shattering waves, buffeting Wang Lin’s robes with violent force.

Even the swirling, rainbow-hued mists that enshrouded the summit were dislodged by the bellow, slowly parting to reveal the peak in all its stark clarity.

One glance was all it took to ignite a blinding inferno of rage within Wang Lin’s eyes.

For he beheld Qing Shui!

Upon the mountain’s highest point, a gaunt figure, his face contorted in agony, was impaled upon the cliff face by nine wicked barbs. These barbs pulsed with a vibrant, seven-hued light, yet they were not the Seven-Colored Nails of legend.

This wretched soul was Qing Shui! Though his visage was ravaged, bereft of its former splendor, his tangled hair obscuring his tormented features, and his eyes blazing with a feverish red glow of madness and bloodlust, Wang Lin recognized him instantly. It was his elder brother, Qing Shui!

A continuous stream of incoherent roars poured forth from Qing Shui’s lips. He seemed desperate to tear himself free of the impaling barbs, but could only unleash his maddened fury upon the heavens.

“Kill! Kill! Kill! I will slaughter you all! Kill everyone! Kill!” The distorted, almost unintelligible words rasped from Qing Shui’s throat, shaking the very foundations of the world.

Before him hung another tormentor!

An ethereal, rainbow-hued index finger, some ten fathoms in length, hovered in the air. Its slender nail was poised a mere three inches from Qing Shui’s brow.

It had seemingly been there for an eternity, suspended in that spot, drawing thin crimson threads from Qing Shui’s forehead, ceaselessly absorbing them into itself.

A chilling sensation crept over Wang Lin’s skin. He sensed, with growing unease, that these ten thousand mountains were far from ordinary. This array, in particular, possessed some unique and dreadful purpose. And Qing Shui was, without a doubt, the key to its function!

“Petrified Black Tortoise, ten thousand barbs transformed into mountains, ten thousand cultivators turned into the living dead, their blood released and scattered, their hatred and resentment condensed into a single wave of slaughter… What manner of sorcery is this?!” Wang Lin muttered under his breath. Without hesitation, he surged forward, slipping through the gaps in the dissipating rainbow mists, closing the distance to Qing Shui to a mere hundred paces!

But as he drew closer, Qing Shui suddenly snapped his head upward. His wild hair still obscured much of his face, but his eyes, red and vacant, fixed upon Wang Lin with a rabid intensity, emitting a low, guttural growl.

“Kill! Kill! Kill! I will slaughter everything! Kill everyone! Kill you all! Kill every living being!”

This roar was infused with a staggering bloodlust. Wang Lin, at a hundred paces, bore the brunt of its force, his mind reeling. The sheer intensity of the killing intent was enough to shatter the resolve of any cultivator, to corrupt their very Dao heart, transforming it into an extension of the slaughter, driving all who approached into a state of stark terror and eventual demise!

Sadness welled up within Wang Lin’s eyes. He had begun to grasp the essence of this dark ritual, though certain aspects remained shrouded in mystery. Ignoring the oppressive killing intent, he pressed onward.

A hundred paces became eighty, then sixty, then a mere thirty!

As Wang Lin reached a point thirty paces from Qing Shui, the tormented man, mid-roar, fixed his gaze upon Wang Lin. In his maddened eyes, a crimson bolt of lightning flickered into existence.

This red lightning was his Extremes!

With another earth-shattering roar, the red lightning shot forth, hurtling towards Wang Lin with impossible speed. The distance between them was negligible, and the lightning struck almost instantaneously, unleashing a wave of supreme, primal slaughter, a power that was both earthly and otherworldly.

This was the Essence of Slaughter!

The air crackled as Wang Lin, in the instant of impact, formed a hand seal and thrust his arms forward, meeting the red lightning head-on. The lightning shattered upon contact, sending a jolt through Wang Lin’s arms, the raw power of the Extremes flooding his body, threatening to overwhelm his spirit. But he suppressed it with iron will.

He was about to take another step when Qing Shui, with his final reserves, let out a roar that dwarfed all others.

This roar reverberated with deafening intensity, the Essence of Slaughter within it reaching a terrifying level. As the sound erupted, a colossal, spectral image took form before Qing Shui. A monstrous, gaping maw hurtling directly towards Wang Lin.

Even Wang Lin’s face paled at the wave of pure, unadulterated malice. The sheer strength of this malevolent energy threatened to overwhelm him, to push him to the brink of death. In the face of the oncoming specter, Wang Lin formed another hand seal, unleashing the golden fire from his left eye and the golden lightning from his right, meeting the monstrous illusion head-on.

With a thunderous crash, Wang Lin coughed up blood. The force of the impact had sent him staggering backwards, but his gaze never wavered from Qing Shui. His eyes now conveyed an even deeper well of sorrow.
“Brother Qingshui! It is I, Wang Lin, your junior brother Wang Lin!” Wang Lin cried, his voice strained, as he retreated before the maddened Qingshui, his teeth worrying his lower lip.

The crimson shadow, assaulted by golden fire and crackling lightning, dissipated into nothingness. The force of the blast buffeted Qingshui, whipping his tangled hair about his face, revealing the tormented visage beneath.

Wang Lin’s gaze sharpened, for he now saw the reality hidden by the obscuring strands – pulsating, swollen veins that throbbed upon Qingshui’s temples. Within those veins, something writhed.

As Wang Lin’s words pierced the frenzy, Qingshui’s eyes flickered with a moment of clarity, his expression twisting in agony. This pain, however, was laced with a profound sorrow, a despair born of some horrific revelation.

“My soul…is imprisoned by the Xuanwu’s flesh…Wang Lin…kill…me…Kill! Kill! Kill them all!”

The instant of lucidity triggered a cataclysm. The colossal, petrified Xuanwu upon the ground shuddered violently. A wave of ashen energy erupted from within, surging through the highest peak, finding purchase within Qingshui’s form.

The touch of the ashen miasma extinguished the brief flicker of sorrow, drowning him once more in bloodlust. His anguished words dissolved back into a raving, inhuman roar. He thrashed his head, his face contorted, his eyes blazing crimson.

Retreating, Wang Lin, glimpsed a horrifying detail within Qingshui’s struggle. As the gale parted the tangled mass of hair, he saw it – a wicked spike, nestled three inches from the crown of his head, on the right side. A tenth spike!

Hidden so cunningly, it defied all but the closest inspection.

“Ten spikes! Not nine, but ten! I understand now…” Wang Lin stumbled back, his gaze sweeping downward to the Ten Thousand Mountains stretching out below. His eyes shone with dawning understanding.

“The Ten Thousand Mountains, transformed into ten spikes, imprisoning Qingshui’s very being!”

“The cultivators upon those mountains, their blood used to nourish the Xuanwu, their lives of slaughter fueling Qingshui’s torment!”

“This Xuanwu…it is not dead. It is its true form, the Xuanwu’s flesh! Used to bind Qingshui’s soul!”

“The purpose of all this is to birth the Source of Slaughter from Qingshui! Brother Qingshui is merely a vessel, a cauldron created solely for the sake of this slaughter’s origin!”

“I see now. The Xuanwu Saint Emperor’s betrayal…the Cultivation Alliance must have discovered this Xuanwu’s flesh. This Xuanwu…It is one of the four Great Generals under the Celestial Sovereign! Its flesh incorruptible, containing within the very essence of the Xuanwu lineage. The Xuanwu Saint Emperor, his descendant, sought to claim the power of his ancestor! Only such temptation could drive him to treachery!”

“Brother Qingshui came here seeking the reason for his madness. He must have stumbled upon this truth, and the discovery drove him further into insanity! And the Seven-Colored Finger…it is the root of everything. The wisps of crimson energy it absorbs are none other than the Source of Slaughter!” Wang Lin reeled backward, his mind reeling with the horror of his revelations.

As he retreated, the crimson mist erupting from the mouths of the Ten Thousand Mountains’ cultivators coalesced before him, swirling around the maddened Qingshui. Within its depths, ghastly images began to form.

A small kingdom, overthrown in a single, brutal night. A young prince, his face etched with grief and despair, fleeing into the wilderness, a hunted animal. Above him, a single ray of seven-colored light pierced the sky, containing within it a vague, watching figure.

Another image flashed. The prince, now a youth, entered a mountain sect, only to suffer endless humiliations. He stood upon a desolate peak, his fragile frame trembling as he screamed his hatred towards the heavens, the earth, and all living things!

The birth of extreme intention!

Above him, the seven-colored light remained, the figure within seeming to observe the youth below.

Wang Lin staggered, the vision as horrific to him as the revelation of the Flash Thunder Clan’s seven million worlds. He felt an insidious theory forming in his mind.

“Dao…being cultivated…”