Upon the Long Street of the Eastern Citadel, a sea dragon, diminished to a mere ten fathoms, roared in pain and desperation, its flight swift yet constrained. A dreadful pressure emanated from this place, a palpable threat that promised demise should it soar too high.

Wounds marred the dragon’s scaled hide as it raced onward, the most grievous a black arrow piercing halfway into its belly. This vile projectile pulsed with a power that withered its very life force, shrouding the beast in an aura of creeping darkness.

Clinging to the dragon’s back, his face a mask of rage, was Liu Jinbiao. He was disheveled, his robes torn, for that sudden arrow had nearly claimed his life, the dragon having shielded him from its deadly strike.

“That arrow… it shattered the dragon’s magic, pierced straight to its core! Who seeks my end? I’ve only swindled seven souls this day! Is that cause enough for assassination?!” Despite his fury, a thread of fear was absent from Liu Jinbiao’s voice.

“Curse them all! My master will not let this stand!” He roared back into the wind.

From the shadows, a figure emerged, cloaked in night itself, giving chase. This pursuer’s form was indistinct, neither man nor woman, young nor old. Its speed surpassed even the dragon’s, and in its hand, a bow was drawn. It raised the weapon, and another arrow flew.

This time, the very essence of the heavens seemed to coalesce, drawn into the arrow, amplifying its deadly intent.

Barely ten breaths had passed since Liu Jinbiao and the dragon had fled, yet the pursuer had already loosed a second bolt!

This arrow pulsed with a chilling malice, promising to shatter both the dragon and the hapless rider upon its back.

As the arrow drew near, Liu Jinbiao bellowed and began to weave protective sigils with his hands. Beneath him, the dragon screamed in defiance, and its scales rippled with shimmering energy.

A cruel smile twisted the pursuer’s lips. Few could withstand the force of his arrows. This shot would surely bring down the beast and cripple the puny mortal upon its back, a prize to be captured and brought home to earn glory!

But then, the smile vanished, replaced by horror as the pursuer’s eyes widened in stark terror.

Before the dragon and Liu Jinbiao, at the very moment of impact, a figure materialized as if wrenched from thin air. Draped in a rain-soaked cloak and obscured by a wide-brimmed hat, the newcomer’s sudden appearance stole the breath from the very air.

The figure did not strike or gesture. It merely raised its head, revealing eyes that flashed with golden light. At that instant, the arrow disintegrated, utterly annihilated.

The pursuer’s mind reeled, and with a convulsive shudder, they were thrown from the shadows. Their face was ashen, and in the moment their gaze locked with the newcomer, they felt a thousand swords pierce their very soul.

Helpless against such power, the pursuer’s mind crumbled, and a torrent of blood erupted from their lips. They collapsed upon the snow-covered ground, sending up a flurry of white.

Even as consciousness fled, the pursuer was consumed by a primal fear, a terror that dwarfed even the power of their clan’s patriarch and elders.

“Master! You have come! They seek to slay me! The dragon is wounded!” Liu Jinbiao cried, relief flooding his voice. The dragon wheeled about, its eyes burning with rage, fixed upon the motionless figure in the distance.

The newcomer, Wang Lin, raised a hand and brushed the dragon’s head. The beast shuddered as the black energy was expelled, dispersing like a foul wind. The arrow embedded in its belly shot forth, and the wound began to mend before their eyes.

Wang Lin summoned the black arrow to his hand, examined it briefly, then crushed it to dust, which mingled with the falling snow.

“The Li Clan has overstepped,” Wang Lin said, his voice calm yet edged with steel.

“The Li Clan? Master, you know them? This isn’t because of my… my methods?” Liu Jinbiao stammered, his anger fading into a pathetic whine. He gazed at Wang Lin, pleading in his eyes.

“Come. We shall pay the Li Clan a visit,” Wang Lin said, his expression unchanged. He approached the motionless figure on the ground. Without a word, he caused the body to float upward, revealing the face of a middle-aged man, deathly pale and unconscious.

Wang Lin focused his divine sense, penetrating the man’s mind to glean the necessary information. Then, with a flick of his sleeve, he swept up the dragon, Liu Jinbiao, and the unconscious man, vanishing in a ripple of space. They reappeared before the gates of a silent, imposing manor deep within the Eastern Citadel.

“Knock. Demand that the master of this house come to greet us,” Wang Lin said, his gaze fixed on the characters etched above the gates: “Li Manor.”

“Gladly!” Liu Jinbiao’s spirits soared. This was the sort of task he relished. He rolled up his sleeves and strode towards the closed gates.

As he passed the twin stone lions that flanked the entrance, their eyes remained shut, as if they were mere decorations in a mortal’s courtyard, and Liu Jinbiao swaggered towards the doors unimpeded.

His appearance was strikingly similar to that of another who had come to this gate over a year past, even his expression bearing a familiar arrogance.

Liu Jinbiao planted his foot on the gate with a resounding kick, leaving a muddy footprint. Then, he roared.

“Hark! My master is here! Come forth and greet him!”

His words differed by only a few syllables from those spoken by the young man in red so long ago. Had that young man, Xu Liguo, been present, he would surely have been astonished.

The difference, however, was stark. Where Xu Liguo’s kick had failed to even rattle the gates, Liu Jinbiao’s blow sent them crashing inwards with a deafening roar.

Taken aback, Liu Jinbiao stumbled backward, feigning surprise. He inwardly mused that his kick surely didn’t possess such force, and that the gates must have been weaker than they appeared.
Wang Lin gazed upon the open gate, his expression serene. After a long moment of silence, a faint smile touched his lips, and he shook his head.

“Since the master of this house remains unseen,” he said, his voice calm yet laced with a subtle undercurrent of power, “then I, Wang, shall enter uninvited.” With a flick of his wrist, the unconscious man who had been drifting beside him was sent hurtling through the gateway. Without hesitation, Wang Lin stepped forward.

The instant he passed the two stone lions flanking the entrance, the ancient sentinels roared to life. Their eyes snapped open, and a deafening bellow shook the very foundations of the Eastern Quarter. The sound waves washed over the city, silencing every voice, every melody, plunging the district into an eerie stillness.

From the stone lions, colossal spectral forms materialized – two immense lion apparitions, each hundreds of feet tall. They roared their defiance and lunged toward Wang Lin.

But Wang Lin did not glance up. Still clad in his simple raincoat and wide-brimmed hat, he continued his march toward the open door. The phantom lions closed in, yet within ten paces of him, their savage roars dissolved into whimpers of despair. Like smoke caught in a gale, their spectral forms were utterly dispersed before him.

A sharp cracking echoed through the air as fissures appeared on the stone lions. Moments later, they shattered into dust.

Wang Lin pressed onward. Behind him, Liu Jinbiao gasped, then his face split into a grin of elation. The stronger Wang Lin appeared, the more power Liu could bask in, safe from those who would dare to bully him.

The sea dragon, witnessing this spectacle, could only bow its head in awed reverence.

As Wang Lin’s right foot crossed the threshold, a chorus of whistling screams erupted. From within the manor, countless figures emerged, their movements synchronized with unnerving precision. Each held a drawn bow, left hand steady, right hand pulling the string taut. In unison, they released their arrows.

Hundreds of shafts hurtled toward Wang Lin, a deadly swarm aimed at the intruder.

Each arrow carried formidable power, but the combined force of hundreds, unleashed at once, coalesced into a tempest of destruction. Before Wang Lin, the arrows formed a complex array, a hastily woven formation shimmering with crimson light. The air crackled with killing intent, a wave of pure aggression that threatened to obliterate everything in its path.

Wang Lin did not falter. He continued his advance, his right hand rising to meet the storm. With a simple gesture, he swept his hand outward, and a colossal palm materialized before him. The palm was impossibly detailed, every line and crease etched with stark clarity. It slammed into the arrow formation.

The resulting explosion was deafening. The arrow array shattered, though the spectral palm also dimmed, its edges beginning to fray. As Wang Lin stepped through the fading palm, the image dispersed entirely.

“To weave such power in an instant, comparable to a sixth-level Celestial Sovereign…” Wang Lin murmured, his raincoat and hat still undisturbed. He continued toward the heart of the manor, each step measured and deliberate.

The archers, men and women alike, were frozen in shock, their faces etched with disbelief and terror. They had placed their faith in the combined power of their attack, confident that even a Celestial Sovereign would struggle to withstand it. Yet this intruder had simply brushed it aside with a flick of his wrist.

As the archers gaped, paralyzed by fear, nine new arrows shot from hidden locations within the manor. Each arrow exploded in mid-air, releasing hundreds of razor-sharp fragments, creating a volley far surpassing the power of the initial assault.

The nine exploding arrows unleashed a storm of death, a tempest of sharp, glittering steel.

Like a monstrous hand, the arrow storm reached for Wang Lin, promising to crush him utterly.

But Wang Lin did not pause. He merely lifted his head and extended his right hand, pointing a single finger toward the approaching storm.

At that touch, the world seemed to shudder to a halt. The phantom hand of arrows froze in mid-air, suspended before Wang Lin like a macabre sculpture. He passed through it, walking slowly and deliberately, leaving the deadly storm suspended and motionless behind him.

Liu Jinbiao gasped, his eyes wide with horror. Staring at the frozen arrow storm, his scalp tingled. He scrambled away, fearing that the deadly barrage might suddenly come back to life and tear him apart.