Upon the petrified hide of the Basalt Tortoise, where Wang Lin’s fists had landed with thunderous force, five hairline fractures appeared. These fissures, accompanied by a chorus of grinding clicks, spread outwards like the branching veins of a dying leaf, spiderwebbing across the ancient stone.

But even as hope flickered, a ghastly grey mist erupted from the cracks. It pulsed with the chill of the grave, and with a deathly shriek, coiled hungrily towards Wang Lin, seeking to engulf him.

The force of the expulsion was immense, a howling gale of spectral energy that slammed against Wang Lin’s form. Yet, forewarned by instinct, the warrior was already in retreat. He danced away from the onslaught, nimble as a wraith.

A tendril of that spectral vapor, however, peeled away from the main assault. It slithered along the Tortoise’s colossal body, racing towards the figure seated in lotus position upon its head – the Tortoise Sacred Emperor.

With terrifying speed, the grey mist plunged into the Emperor, causing the still form to shudder as if jolted by lightning. A sense of terrible reawakening surged through the air, and a nascent, primal roar threatened to tear free from the Emperor’s throat! Such an occurrence might have caught a lesser warrior off-guard, leaving them paralyzed by indecision.

But Wang Lin, forged in the fires of countless battles and possessed of a mind as sharp as any demon’s, had anticipated this treachery. Seeing the Tortoise Sacred Emperor, a cold premonition had seized his heart. Now, without hesitation, as the Emperor absorbed the deadly mist and stirred toward resurrection, Wang Lin flung his right hand forward. A crimson flash illuminated the scene, as the air crackled with ancient power.

The Blood Sword, a weapon of legend, materialized in his grip, cleaving the air with such speed that space itself seemed to warp. With a piercing scream, it hurtled towards the Sacred Emperor, and in a blink, sheared through his neck.

No crimson blood flowed, only dust and echoes. The Emperor’s head, severed by the Blood Sword’s passage, tumbled from the Tortoise’s back. The blade also severed the cruel, bone-white spike piercing the emperor’s body and protruding three inches above the crown of his head.

As the head fell, the grey mist, which had been flowing inside the Emperor, gushed forth from the open wound, writhing and screeching in fury. The nascent roar became a wail of despair, fading into a feeble hiss as the spectral essence bled away.

The Tortoise Sacred Emperor’s flesh, subjected to this violation and the purging of the grey mist, convulsed and withered, finally collapsing into dust.

The peril was vanquished by Wang Lin’s swift and decisive actions.

Even as Wang Lin retreated, the Flesh-and-Blood Blade, trailing anguished cries, reappeared, lunging like a ravenous beast, seeking to devour him. As it descended, Wang Lin whirled to face it, his eyes burning with a blend of ferocity and cunning. He raised his right fist, meeting the monstrous weapon with a blow of impossible force.

The world shuddered. Wang Lin was thrown back several paces, while the Flesh-and-Blood Blade vibrated violently. Thousands of trapped souls shrieked and collapsed within its form, visibly diminishing its size.

Undaunted, Wang Lin surged forward once more, his fists becoming a whirlwind of destruction. The Seven-Colored Realm echoed with each thunderous impact as Wang Lin relentlessly hammered the Flesh-and-Blood Blade. With each blow, the blade was forced higher, its size shrinking with alarming speed.

Finally, with a roar that echoed through the heavens, Wang Lin delivered a final, crushing blow. The Flesh-and-Blood Blade shattered into a million pieces. Its festering essence, its corrupted flesh and souls, disintegrated into ash.

The battle had seemed swift, but each strike had demanded the totality of Wang Lin’s strength. The celestial rejection coursing through his veins reached a fever pitch. Agony lanced through him, and blood beaded upon every pore of his skin.

He ignored the pain, focusing only on the task at hand. With the Flesh-and-Blood Blade destroyed, Wang Lin whirled, steeling his resolve. He ascended into the air until the world spread out beneath him and then plummeted back towards the earth.

Using the momentum of his descent, Wang Lin became a living comet, hurtling towards the cracked and ravaged back of the petrified Basalt Tortoise!

“Break! Break! Break!” he roared. His voice echoed through the realm as his fists connected with the Tortoise’s back with the force of a collapsing star.

The gargantuan Tortoise shuddered under the impact, and the fissures on its back widened and deepened, branching into a terrifying tapestry of destruction. Sections of the stone shell crumbled to dust.

With eyes bloodshot and fixed on his goal, Wang Lin, driven by the single-minded purpose of freeing the soul of Clear Water, unleashed another earth-shattering blow!

And another!

And another!

From afar, Wang Lin seemed like a mad god hammering at the shell of the world. Each strike sent tremors through the petrified creature. The fractures multiplied and spread until the Tortoise’s back was a web of destruction.

Each blow was infused with the fury of a trapped god. Golden light streamed from his fists, intertwined with crackling lightning and searing flames. The resulting destruction was cataclysmic. Hundreds of punches fell in quick succession. Blood sprayed from Wang Lin’s body, and the celestial rejection within him raged to a fever pitch.

The pain was unimaginable, but it was fuel to the fire of Wang Lin’s will. He was driven by a single, unshakeable purpose: to rescue Clear Water. Only a handful of souls in the world could inspire Wang Lin to such lengths, and Clear Water was among them.

With each passing blow, the Tortoise’s back crumbled further. Yet, despite the devastation, the prison remained stubbornly intact. The veins on Wang Lin’s face bulged, and his body coiled upwards, reaching thousands of feet into the air. He raised his right hand, pointing a finger at the heavens.

“Spirit Sealing Mark!”

Darkness fell as an immense golden palm print descended from the heavens. The air crackled with power. With a final gesture from Wang Lin, the colossal hand plunged through his own body and slammed against the back of the Basalt Tortoise!

Wang Lin followed in its wake. He raised his right hand, and his entire body blazed with golden light, making him resemble an avenging celestial. With a final, defiant roar, he descended like a hammer of the gods!

A deafening roar ripped through the realm as the Spirit Sealing Mark crashed into the Tortoise’s back. The colossal creature convulsed violently, and a vast, palm-shaped depression appeared upon its shell. The edges crumbled into dust.

Simultaneously, Wang Lin’s right hand connected with the crumbling shell. An unimaginable force was unleashed. The remaining plates of the Tortoise’s back shattered, recoiling outwards with explosive force.

The Basalt Tortoise was broken! A lonely, sorrowful soul rose from the shattered remains, drifting towards its destination: Clear Water.
In the precipice of its destruction, the mountain-beast unleashed a storm of agony. Every one of its hundred thousand spines, each once cradling a pool of celestial dew, shattered at once. Save for the single spire that held the essence of the celestial spirit, Qing Shui, which ascended into the heavens, the remaining multitude became a ravening hailstorm. In its death throes, the mountain-beast flung these needle-like projectiles from every direction, aimed with dreadful precision at Wang Lin.

No longer the coarse spines of a mountain, but sharpened needles of vengeance, they moved with an unnatural swiftness, allowing Wang Lin no recourse. In the span of a heartbeat, they descended, each finding purchase upon his flesh.

A tidal wave of agony engulfed him. One spine pierced his breast, and in that instant, a legion followed, driven by the beast’s dying fury. Within mere breaths, Wang Lin vanished, consumed by the forest of barbs.

All that remained was a grotesque sphere, a pulsing, thorny tomb.

The echoes of the cataclysm faded, and the Seven-Colored Realm, once alive with thunderous roars, fell into an unnerving silence. The Ten Thousand Mountains had vanished, save for the patch of land where Qing Shui dwelled, now suspended in the air, cloaked by iridescent mists, utterly silent.

Where the mountain range once stood, a massive, spine-covered orb floated in the sky.

Upon the ground, Xuan Wu, the ancient tortoise, his back shattered and strewn about like shale, stared mutely into the distance. Within the gaping wounds of his shell lay a petrified mire, laced with wisps of grey dust.

But deep within his ruined carapace, a fractured crystal pulsed with an ethereal light, hinting at secrets untold.

A fragile peace settled upon the Seven-Colored Realm, but it was fleeting. After a brief respite, the thorn-sphere shuddered violently. Thumping sounds echoed from within, as if a captive raged, hammering against his prison.

The blows intensified, a relentless assault that shattered the silence of the realm. At last, with a deafening crack, a section of the thorn-sphere exploded outward. A golden fist, dripping with blood and riddled with broken spines, erupted into the world.

The fist trembled, a testament to the agony endured. A raw, guttural roar tore from the opening, reverberating through the shattered landscape. Another fist emerged, mirroring the first in its agony and resilience. Slowly, the two hands gripped the jagged edges of the breach, and with another, more desperate roar, they tore outward.

With a sickening rip, the thorn-sphere was rent asunder, revealing a figure within, drenched in gore from hair to toe.

Innumerable spines had pierced his flesh, finding purchase in every part of him, even his eyes. A ragged, desperate breath escaped his lips, a plume of white against the alien sky.

He seemed to gather his strength. After a time, he raised a hand, gripped the spine that impaled his eye, and with a savage yank, tore it free. Blood streamed down his face, and he squeezed his eyelids tight.

After an eternity, he threw open his eyes, and with another roar of defiance, seized the broken remains of the sphere and wrenched them apart.

Within, a web of spines connected the shattered remains to his flesh. As he tore the sphere asunder, some of the spines were ripped from his wounds, spraying blood across the barren landscape.

But more spines, fractured and broken, remained embedded within him.

“Brother Qing Shui, I come to save you…” The words, weak and strained, emerged from Wang Lin’s throat as the roar subsided. He took a single, agonizing step forward, leaving the remains of his prison behind. Each movement sent waves of pain through his body, as the countless spines tore and shifted. His form, once a towering giant, began to shrink, returning to its normal size. As it did so, some of the spines shattered and fell away, but many remained lodged within him, as if they had become a part of his very being.

“Brother, I am here…” Wang Lin stepped into the swirling mists, his vision blurred. He dimly perceived a figure ahead, head bowed, face hidden by matted hair, trembling violently.

Leaving a trail of crimson in his wake, Wang Lin stumbled forward, reaching Qing Shui. He reached out, his hand clenching around the first, cruellest spine, piercing Qing Shui’s chest. He inhaled deeply, and with a surge of determination, wrenched it free!