Kang Ren, a craven soul if ever there was one, circled the shattered peak thrice, his gaze darting about like a cornered rat. Only then, with utmost caution, did he venture into the ruin, halting a mere score of paces from the fallen Wang Lin.

His eyes, gleaming with avarice and a touch of mad glee, devoured the sight of the prone figure.

“Such resilience of flesh is rare beyond the borders of the Ancient Kingdoms!” he hissed to himself, his voice barely a whisper on the wind. “But this one bears no star-mark upon his brow, thus he is no warrior-god of old. Nor does he possess the aura of those ancient folk. No, this one is surely not of the Ancient Kingdoms!”

“Yet, to wield such power, such a vessel, and be but a cultivator… By what dark arts has he achieved this?” He licked his chapped lips, his heart drumming a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Fortune, he believed, had finally smiled upon him – a cosmic windfall dropped right at his feet!

Never had he imagined that a simple flight across the heavens would lead him to such a prize.

“His life-force wanes, he is caught between worlds. Perfect! A puppet he shall become, and with such a construct at my command, I shall sweep through the ranks of the second-generation disciples of the Azure Dragon Sect! Perhaps, if the Old Ancestor himself deems me worthy, I shall ascend to heights undreamt of!” The very thought sent shivers of excitement coursing through his veins.

Despite his fevered dreams, Kang Ren remained ever the cautious craven. He halted his approach a good score of paces from Wang Lin, poised to flee at the first sign of danger, or to summon his brethren should he prove unable to claim this treasure for himself. To surrender such a find to the sect would still earn him considerable favor.

His right hand rose, weaving intricate gestures. A rift shimmered into being upon his wrist, and from its depths, a sliver of jade, black as midnight, emerged. Its mere presence radiated an undercurrent of unrestrained power.

Without hesitation, Kang Ren flung the jade shard forward. It streaked through the air as a phantom light, striking Wang Lin squarely upon the chest. A deafening roar echoed across the ravaged landscape, the earth trembling beneath the force of the explosion.

Kang Ren reeled back, stumbling for hundreds of paces, his eyes blazing with renewed fervor.

“He did not retaliate! He is either dead or in a stupor!” With a triumphant bellow, he surged forward, closing the distance to Wang Lin in a heartbeat.

But the power unleashed by the jade sliver, though considerable, was of little consequence to Wang Lin. Such trinkets of destruction, mere echoes of Nirvana’s might, could not so much as mar his skin, not a score nor a hundred of them.

And as for the ancient coffin strapped to Wang Lin’s back, it remained steadfast in its vigil, its aura melded with that of its slumbering charge. Not even a cultivator who had survived the trials of the Xuan Calamity could so much as touch the coffin, much less separate it from its master.

As Kang Ren drew near, his eyes widened, fixated upon the ancient coffin. Within, he glimpsed the form of a woman, caught in the embrace of sleep. Her beauty was not of the striking kind, but her serene slumber stirred within Kang Ren’s heart a dark and lascivious desire.

“Ha! I did not see her at first glance! A female cultivator! Well, well! She shall become a puppet as well, made to serve my every whim! A most welcome addition to my spoils!” He licked his lips once more, and with a grand gesture towards the heavens, a second rift blossomed upon his wrist. From it, a net woven of shadows sprang forth, enveloping Wang Lin and his coffin in a prison of darkness.

With a final, sweeping gesture, Kang Ren gathered his stolen prize in a swirling vortex of darkness, and fled into the distance.

“I have struck gold this day! The heavens themselves have deemed me worthy of such a boon!” Kang Ren roared. He dared not linger, his thoughts consumed with the single-minded desire to return to the sect and begin the process of puppet-making.

The Azure Dragon Sect’s stronghold was a labyrinth of vast mountain valleys shrouded in deadly miasma. The mountains themselves had been hollowed out, transformed into a network of countless chambers, each serving as a dwelling for a disciple.

The endless peaks stretched beyond the horizon, housing nearly fifty thousand souls. However, most were either abroad on missions or secluded in meditation, and encounters between disciples were rare, save for the annual sect gathering.

Kang Ren hurtled through the sky like a comet, approaching the mountain gate. The poisonous mists recoiled from his path, a testament to some protective artifact he carried.

Plunging into the toxic veil, Kang Ren soon caught sight of a colossal valley, its peaks barely visible through the haze. Within, a multitude of pavilions and towers lay scattered throughout the valley.

As Kang Ren prepared to enter the valley, a voice thundered from within.

“Halt! Who dares intrude upon these sacred grounds? Identify yourself! Three breaths to comply, or face the consequences!”

“Xu Yun! What is the meaning of this?!” Kang Ren snapped, his eyes flashing with anger as he halted his flight outside of the valley.

“Ah? Is that you, Brother Kang? My apologies, the mist obscures my vision. Were you not on patrol, Brother Kang? What brings you back so soon? And what creature have you ensnared in that puppet-net?” The voice, measured and calm, was accompanied by the emergence of a hunchbacked youth from within the valley.

The youth’s face was remarkably handsome, but the stoop in his shoulders created an unsettling discord.

“Mind your own affairs!” Kang Ren shot back, a sneer twisting his lips. With a final burst of speed, he vanished into the valley. The hunchbacked youth’s eyes narrowed, their gaze following Kang Ren’s trajectory, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

“Something is amiss. Something of great value has fallen into his hands!” He mused, before leaving a puppet to stand guard, while he himself flew toward the inner sanctum.

Kang Ren, in the meantime, streaked through the valley like a shooting star, heading directly for the mountain he had hollowed out as his personal dwelling. He shot into the darkness of the tunnel, and with a flick of his left hand, the door ground shut.

A series of intricate seals clicked into place, reinforcing the entrance. Even then, he remained uneasy. With a wave of his hand, nine puppets of varying ages emerged from the shadows, taking up positions guarding the door.

Even deeper into the chamber, Kang Ren was being watched. Two figures, carved of ebony, their faces expressionless, were staring at the intruder, as faint points of light glowed within their hollow eye sockets.
Without so much as a glance at the twin sentinels of wood flanking the entrance, Kang Ren hastened deeper into his cavern sanctum. A fist-sized Sunstone pulsed with gentle light from the high ceiling, casting the chamber in a muted, yet subtly ominous, glow.

Upon the stone floor lay a glyph of power, a ten-yard circle etched with arcane runes. The Sunstone’s rays sparked a violet aura from the inscription, giving it a strange and unsettling life.

With a flick of his wrist, Kang Ren cast Wang Lin, whom he had dragged hither, into the heart of the sigil.

Rubbing his hands together with feverish anticipation, Kang Ren crossed his legs and watched the mist-wreathed circle, his eyes ablaze with manic light.

“I must hasten this transfiguration!” he muttered. “Xuyun is as treacherous as a serpent’s fang. Should he discover my acquisition of this vessel, he will undoubtedly seek to claim it for himself!” He waved his hand, and arcane materials, culled from the secret forges of the Azure Dragon Sect, flew forth into the array.

Simultaneously, Kang Ren wove an intricate hand seal and slammed it upon the glyph. The air crackled as the circle stirred to life. The mist within swirled in a vortex, its dance echoing the incantations of the runes. From the bowels of the earth, a geyser of raw elemental fire was drawn into the circle, flooding the sanctum with a wave of intense heat.

The fiery blast washed over Kang Ren, beading his brow with sweat.

“Each time I forge a construct,” he groaned, “I must draw upon the earth’s core. Only those with the fire of creation in their very blood can stand unharmed within such flames, some even draw strength from the inferno itself!

Who knows if I will ever achieve such might…?” Kang Ren gazed upward, his eyes lost in a reverie of power, before he doubled his efforts, channeling the geothermal force, enduring the searing heat, and beginning the dark ritual.

He hurled material after material into the array, a wild fervor gripping his features.

“Whoever you once were, by the Nine Hells, you shall be Kang Ren’s puppet! I will break you and bend you to my will!”

As the circle roared and spun, beyond the sanctum in another cave atop a neighboring peak, a hunched youth stood deferentially before a white-haired elder.

The elder’s face was a sickly purple, a disturbing contrast to his flowing white hair. An aura of immense power, indicative of a nascent Nirvana Soul, swirled about him.

“You dare disturb my meditations with such trifles? This personal feud with Kang Ren…” The elder began, but his words trailed off. His eyes sharpened, and he looked through the rock, through the earth itself, to the chamber where Kang Ren toiled.

He sensed the swirling chaos, the humming resonance of the puppet-making glyph.

“Master,” the hunched youth prostrated himself, “the vessel he has brought back is surely touched by the hand of fate. Kang Ren is rarely in such haste. I have known him since childhood, and I can say with certainty that something is amiss!

The vessel is likely a treasure. I beg you, Master, seize it and bestow it upon your humble disciple!”

The elder continued to peer into the distance, his gaze unwavering. At long last, his pupils constricted, and he rose to his feet.

Seeing the elder stand, the hunched youth could barely contain his glee.

“To draw so much of the earth’s fire… yes, something is indeed at play… Very well, come with me. Let us see what trinket Kang Ren seeks to animate.” With a sweep of his sleeve, the elder exited the cave. The hunched youth followed, barely able to stifle a cry of excitement.

Meanwhile, back in his sanctum, Kang Ren was drenched in sweat, yet his fervor only intensified. No longer seated, he paced around the circle, chanting incantations, and hurling materials into its heart.

The manic gleam in his eyes grew ever brighter.

“I have invested everything into this endeavor! Once this construct is complete… haha!” Kang Ren had forgotten the world beyond his ritual, his movements growing ever faster.

Within the misty heart of the circle, Wang Lin lay enshrouded by the earthfire, seemingly consumed by the blaze. Yet the flames danced around him, causing him no harm, but rather infusing him.

Suddenly, Wang Lin’s eyes snapped open!

And in that instant, upon his right arm, the ink-drawn totem of the Mosquito Beast stirred. Its eyes flickered open, revealing a terrifying, predatory malice.