In the wake of the emerald-robed elder and his two verdant demon sentinels’ departure, Wang Lin’s mortal shell remained, seated in lotus posture, utterly still. Slowly, the verdant chamber fell silent, save for the countless emerald beams that flickered throughout its confines. Within each beam, the spectral image of a green scorpion danced, their countless forms weaving a dense tapestry that filled the space.

Time slipped by like sand through an hourglass. Three months passed in a blink, and through it all, Wang Lin remained motionless, devoid of even the slightest sign of life or stirring. His body was draped in a heavy mantle of emerald light, and upon closer inspection, one could see his form crawling with what appeared to be a legion of miniature green scorpions. These venomous crawlers writhed and pulsed, spreading across Wang Lin’s skin.

Within Wang Lin’s physical vessel, protected by the celestial pearl, his nascent soul patiently waited. He possessed the fortitude to await the grand design he sensed unfolding, a providence veiled in shadow.

The emerald elder was known for his profound suspicion. Wang Lin surmised that the elder would not readily accept his current state, and more trials would be laid before him until the elder was fully convinced, at which point he would bestow an immense fortune.

Though Wang Lin could not foresee the nature of the trials that awaited him, he steeled his spirit, and beneath the pearl’s protection, he waited with calm resolve.

He would meet the unknown with unwavering steadfastness. Wang Lin allowed the green scorpions to envelop him, even when a few daringly burrowed into his nostrils, ears, and mouth, he remained unchanged.

Time continued its relentless march, another three months, and another. Soon, a year had passed since the emerald elder had vanished from the green chamber.

A cultivator of his caliber possessed a body that could resist decay for millennia. A mere year was of little consequence to his physical form. However, the number of green scorpions that clung to him steadily increased.

Within the emerald chamber, the scorpions seemed to regard Wang Lin as part of their own hive. The place had become a dungeon of sorts, laden with an aura of grim foreboding.

Any mortal who gazed upon the scene would be struck with terror.

Wang Lin, as he once was, seemed to have vanished. All that remained was a humanoid mound covered in scorpions.

Within the celestial pearl, Wang Lin’s soul remained serene, untouched by the chaos without.

The emerald elder did not reappear, as if Wang Lin had been utterly forgotten. The chamber was shrouded in silence, and even the scorpion structure that housed them seemed abandoned.

An unsettling atmosphere festered in this solitude.

One year became two, then three…

As the fourth year dawned, Wang Lin’s soul stirred within the emerald scorpion edifice. Four years he had waited!

Yet, the emerald elder had not shown himself, and his body was undergoing a strange transformation beneath the ceaseless scorpion tide. This transformation was the very source of Wang Lin’s torment!

From the pores of his skin, from every one of his hundred and eight thousand openings, emerged tiny, egg-like specks of green light. These lights had first appeared two years prior, and now they were bursting, absorbing Wang Lin’s blood and flesh to give birth to young scorpions!

These scorpions used Wang Lin’s body as a nest and a source of sustenance, multiplying at an alarming rate. After four years, the scorpion population had doubled, not only covering Wang Lin but forming a thick carpet on the ground, a sight that chilled the very soul.

The emergence of these juvenile scorpions slowly aged Wang Lin’s ageless flesh. His body, once a bastion of resilience, withered as it was consumed.

Wang Lin felt, with growing intensity, that if he did not act soon, if he did not unleash his soul to seize control of his body and escape this place, he would be trapped here forever.

He finally understood why the emerald elder had not returned or attempted further tests. Time itself was the ultimate trial.

No method could reveal the truth of a matter, the reality of a being, as effectively as the passage of years.

The elder, Wang Lin surmised, intended to use time for a particularly cruel test, and only if Wang Lin passed would the elder enact his grand plan.

If the test was failed, Wang Lin could not imagine the consequences.

Had his body not suffered this affliction, this slow decay, Wang Lin could have waited, even if it took a decade, a century, or more. His resolve was strong enough to endure such hardship.

But the withering of his flesh shook his conviction. All of this was based on his conjecture, and he had no concrete proof.

If he was mistaken, remaining here would not only lead to the complete destruction of his body but also cause him to miss a genuine opportunity, to meet his end here!

Conversely, if his judgment was correct, he stood to lose an extraordinary boon and a rare chance.

This was a choice, a tormenting choice.

This inner struggle raged for another year, until, in the fifth year of his imprisonment, it finally ceased. Wang Lin resolutely banished all doubt, embracing a near-mad certainty in his own understanding. He would continue his silent vigil.

The sixth year arrived, then the seventh, then the eighth. Wang Lin’s body withered even further, yet his spirit remained unyielding!

In the ninth and tenth years, his scorpion-infested body was devoid of all sustenance, a shriveled husk that seemed ready to crumble at the slightest breeze. But still, Wang Lin waited!

Ten years!
Within that emerald realm he remained, a prisoner of verdant light. A decade had crawled past, each year a silent thief of the world he knew. He knew not what tides had turned beyond the veil, whether the war between Tianniu and the Green Devil Lands still raged, or if some grim victor had emerged from the clash.

For ten long years, Wang Lin’s nascent soul forsook the throne of his flesh, seeking refuge within the mystic ward of the Sky Defier. With a resolve born of desperation, he wagered all on a single, desperate gamble.

His faith rested on a bedrock of observation and intuition. The green-robed elder, cloaked in the guise of a mere mortal, emanated a palpable power. Wang Lin sensed a danger that even the formidable Lord of the Dao Demon Sect would treat with deference. A reckless move, he believed, would invite catastrophic consequences.

Within this Green Devil Scorpion Temple lay mysteries unplumbed. Crucially, the elder’s mortal shell implied a limited lifespan. Time, then, became his unlikely ally.

But all of this hinged on the veracity of his assumptions.

Unbeknownst to Wang Lin, within the heart of the colossal scorpion edifice, nestled within the scorpion’s skull, was a hidden chamber. There, the green-robed elder sat in meditative stillness, his gaze fixed upon a verdant mirror. Reflected within its depths was the emerald prison where Wang Lin languished.

For ten years, Wang Lin was not alone in his vigil. The elder, too, was locked in a battle of patience.

His own mortal coil was bound by the relentless march of time. Though ancient rituals granted him a fleeting extension, his lineage of shamans rarely exceeded three millennia. He had already witnessed two thousand and eight hundred years pass, and the icy grip of oblivion drew ever closer.

“Time,” he murmured, “is the ultimate arbiter. It reveals all truths. Though this may seem excessive, the safe arrival of the Green Devil Lord demands such caution. I shall see whether this man is truly lost to his mind, or merely feigning madness…”

Patience was a virtue he possessed in abundance. For over two millennia, he had dwelt within the scorpion’s heart, the passage of years a constant companion. Counting down the seasons had become an ingrained instinct.

Three years, then three more, then four… Another decade slipped away in their shared waiting. This was a duel of a different kind, a contest far more savage than any ordinary skirmish between cultivators. For this time, they were battling the very essence of time itself.

This conflict was silent, invisible, devoid of fire and steel. Yet, it possessed a profound intensity, born of unwavering resolve and grave peril. The elder’s clan had prepared for this trial for countless millennia, and he could not afford to fail. Wang Lin, too, was bound to victory. His very bones were beginning to feel the cruel touch of time. Only his Dao Ancient physique had thus far prevented his body from utter collapse.

The verdant realm was dominated by emerald scorpions, their carapaces shimmering with an eerie green light as they scuttled through the confined space.

Twenty years had passed. Wang Lin’s resolve remained unshaken, his mind focused on reinforcing his belief. This was a gamble unlike any he had ever undertaken.

“I will not be defeated,” he declared in the silent chambers of his mind. That single phrase was the bulwark of his spirit.

Time, on occasion, can be a relentless river, but more often it is like the fallen leaf, separated from its tree in Autumn to fall to the ground, fleeting in its passage.

Before long another twenty years had gone by. It was unusual for Wang Lin to remain in one place for such a long time, especially without his fleshly body.

Even with his ancient Dao physique he was showing signs of an eventual death.

The green-robed elder remained in watchful waiting. Forty years had come and gone. After his daily life, he almost constantly peered at the mirror, waiting.

Forty years, then forty more. Unconsciously, after Wang Lin had somewhat gotten used to his environment, eighty years passed.

On the eighty year the green robed elder, within the dark folds of his robes, hesitantly opened his eyes. He could not possibly believe that someone could consciously withstand eighty years.

Moreover, his time was running out…

Lying before him was the question that Wang Lin had to answer all those years ago: To wait? Or not to wait?