“First, the liver, which doth dissolve and shatter,” intoned the maiden, her voice a silken whisper, yet laced with a merciless intent that belied its gentle surface. Her slender finger curled inward, a gesture that promised naught but death.

Wang Lin coughed forth a torrent of blood, reeling backward. His lungs, twin bellows of life, withered and died within his chest, leaving him breathless and gasping. A searing agony coursed through his very being, a silent scream trapped within his throat.

Even as his lungs failed, his spleen, the wellspring of vitality, festered and decayed. Foul ichor erupted, poisoning his blood and sapping his strength. His face grew ashen, his skin mottled with crimson flecks, each a testament to his failing life force.

And then, as the maiden’s words reached their crescendo, his liver dissolved into nothingness, a horrifying testament to her power.

With four of his vital organs extinguished, the very flame of life flickered precariously. Above, the ancient umbrella, whose ethereal presence had been slowly fading, vanished entirely, as if swallowed by the void.

“Fifth, the heart, without which there is neither life nor path,” she continued, her gaze unwavering as Wang Lin stumbled back. Deliberately, she curled her thumb inward, forming a fist.

As her hand clenched, she unleashed a blow toward him, a force unseen yet devastating.

A searing pain tore through Wang Lin’s chest. His heart, the engine of his existence, stilled, hardening into cold, unyielding stone. The torment was beyond mortal comprehension, wrenching from him a cry of pure, unadulterated agony.

With a thunderous roar, the maiden’s ethereal fist struck true, crushing his chest inward. He was flung backward, plummeting toward the molten depths below, where the waters writhed with an unnatural heat.

“Fae Sorceress!” he cried, his voice ragged. He crashed into the liquid surface, yet remained miraculously afloat. Gathering his pain-wracked body, he struck the surface, propelling himself upward.

He desperately sought to activate the teleportation jade gifted to him by the mysterious woman within the Cloud Sea Rift, but the talisman remained inert, useless in this forsaken place. He attempted to summon the Netherworld Beast, his loyal companion, but a powerful force, an unbreakable seal, severed their connection, leaving him utterly alone.

“You have no escape. This time, there is no flight,” the maiden said softly, stepping from the icy prison of the white-clad man. She glided towards him, each step a death knell. “Yet, if you kneel and beg for mercy, I might be swayed to grant you a sliver of life.”

Wang Lin, his face drained of all color, retreated further.

“I, Wang Lin, kneel to no mortal, and certainly not to you! You shame me with your words. If I survive this day, I shall repay this insult a hundredfold!” His eyes blazed with defiant fire. Ignoring the agony wracking his body, he raised a hand toward the heavens.

“Summon Wind, Call Rain, Scatter Beans as Soldiers!” he roared. A brilliant golden aura engulfed him, crackling with the power of Immortality, soaring towards the sky.

The maiden, having witnessed this power before, narrowed her eyes. Doubt gnawed at her, yet she pressed forward, quickening her pace and extending her hand, ready to crush him.

The heavens thundered as thirteen black dragons, shimmering with golden light, emerged, swirling and coalescing into a deluge of golden rain that encompassed all. Within each droplet resided a tortured soul, a victim of Wang Lin’s wrath.

As the rain fell, it birthed a domain of tempestuous magic, conjuring wind and rain. Though many of the souls had dissipated, those that remained lunged at the maiden.

Amidst the deafening din, Wang Lin continued his retreat, his eyes gleaming with a cold determination. He pointed once more towards the sky.

“Mountain Shattering, Earth Rending!” Though he had not fully mastered the true Earth Rend technique, his current power allowed him to mimic its destructive force. As he unleashed the spell, towering volcanic illusions materialized, their fiery roars shaking the very foundations of reality. Infused with his Immortal energy, the mundane art of Bai Fan was transformed into a genuine celestial technique!

But these were mere diversions, insufficient to truly challenge the sorceress with her five-organ mastery. Wang Lin’s true aim was to use these spells as a catalyst to invoke his ultimate weapon, a technique he had witnessed only once.

“Lunar Bloom Amidst Darkness!”

Lunar Bloom Amidst Darkness. Wang Lin had only seen this technique performed once, by the Immortal Jun of Clear Water in the Seven-Colored Realm of Zha He. They were fellow disciples, both trained in the Bai Fan Threefold Six Paths Arts.

Wang Lin lacked the finesse of Clear Water, unable to conjure the technique with a mere thought. But with his enhanced understanding, the power gained through two thousand years of cultivation, he could force this powerful spell into being after unleashing a series of other spells.

He had witnessed it once. With his current power, with the acuity that came from two millennia of cultivation, he could achieve it.

Amidst the thunderous roar of the tempest and the swirling chaos of his summoned warriors, the maiden walked forth, seemingly unfazed by his attacks.

But as she emerged from the storm, Wang Lin unleashed a primal roar that shook the very fabric of reality.

“Lunar Bloom Amidst Darkness!” he bellowed, pointing his trembling finger towards the maiden.

As his finger found its target, a luminous crescent moon materialized upon her face! Her expression twisted in shock, and she stumbled, halting her advance for the first time.

“The first form of the Lunar Sect’s primary technique… it would seem that Bai Fan was a traitor to the Sect before being taken as a servant by the Old Monster…”

The lunar mark upon her face solidified, cracks appearing as it sought to mar her beauty. Crimson blood welled from the fissures.

The maiden grunted, her eyes flashing with rage.

“If you possessed the second form, Lunar Rain, or the third, Lunar Winds of Ice, you might have a chance to escape death. But this first form, the mere starting point, can be countered by killing you!” With those words, she disregarded the pain in her face and strode towards Wang Lin, her hand forming into a deadly claw, poised to strike him down from the heavens!

She knew the cruel subtlety of the Lunar Sect’s arts. They did not kill swiftly, but instead dealt lasting damage, growing stronger with each passing moment. The longer it lingered, the harder it became to dispel.

She lunged towards Wang Lin, her hand reaching for him, a force of pure annihilation about to descend.
Madness flared in Wang Lin’s eyes. His right hand, empowered by the shattered remnants of the Yin Moon’s Clear Sky, clenched into a fist that hurtled towards the woman! This was not merely the power of the Dao Ancient, but a forbidden technique learned within the Depths of Demise, bestowed by the ancient Vermillion Bird – the Iron Tortoise’s Crushing Blow.

Waves of concussive force rippled from Wang Lin’s fist, coalescing into a shimmering plane before him, a surface of disturbed water upon which their destinies converged. In the blink of an eye, they met upon this ethereal boundary.

The heavens roared as Wang Lin poured every last reserve into this single strike. Gathering the entirety of his rebounded power, he unleashed it in a devastating collision against the woman’s outstretched hand.

Agony beyond bearing tore through him. Blood mist erupted from his pores, dyeing his white robes a crimson shroud. His right arm shattered at the joint, and he was flung backwards by the force of the impact.

Internal chaos threatened to consume him, a rebellion of forces barely held at bay. Yet, despite the torment, he clung to consciousness.

The woman fared no better. Crimson stained the corner of her lips as she stumbled back, a score of paces. A tremor shook her, and the vast Yin Moon emblazoned upon her face fractured further, the darkness spreading, like a creeping blight, down her neck.

With each inch it claimed, the insidious power of the Yin Moon Sect’s sorcery unleashed its full cruelty. A piercing shriek escaped her lips as the constant, intensifying pain threatened to overwhelm her. Her once-beautiful features were now a grotesque mask, a visage of the damned.

The lingering wound from Yin Moon’s Clear Sky forced another gout of blood from her mouth. She retreated further still, her gaze fixated upon Wang Lin with a burning intensity. With a flick of her wrist, an ancient zither materialized before her, its dark wood gleaming in the fading light.

A silent moment passed, and then, her fingers danced across the strings.

*Zheng!*

The sound echoed across the ravaged landscape, a single note that bloomed into a torrent of melancholic fury. A wave of chilling energy crashed over Wang Lin, forcing him back hundreds of feet, blood streaming from his orifices.

“My music,” the woman’s voice, laced with venom, sliced through the air, “was once heard by Immortals of old. You are privileged to be its audience, a fitting end for one such as you. Hear my Lament of the Yellow Springs, and find your grave…” Her fingers flew across the strings, weaving a tapestry of death.

The music became a torment, a legion of phantom voices tearing at Wang Lin’s mind, seeking to rend his very soul. He coughed up blood, but a hollow laugh escaped his lips.

“A fitting dirge for the grave, indeed!” he roared, whirling about even as he was driven back. A crimson flash marked the return of his blood-imbued sword, streaking towards the shadows behind him. There, cloaked in silence, stood another woman, garbed in robes of deep violet. The blade hurtled towards her heart.

She betrayed no surprise at his discovery. Had he been unable to perceive her, he would not have posed a threat worthy of such elaborate schemes.

The blood sword pierced through her as if she were but a phantom. Her form shimmered, existing only as a mirage within Wang Lin’s perception. A soft smile touched her lips.

“It has been long since I have heard my sister’s melody. To witness it again, I owe you a debt of gratitude.” The blood sword spun, returning to Wang Lin’s side, as the relentless music swelled.

“I find myself reluctant to end you…” The woman, seemingly unbound by mortal form, raised a slender hand and pointed.

“I read the stars and commune with the divine. I foresee your death within three breaths… My prophecy, fueled by the essence of my soul, now becomes reality.” A final, gentle nod accompanied her declaration.