As the last glimmer of light faded and the firmament was swallowed by an abyssal darkness, Wang Lin seized the ethereal wisp of Nihilistic Origin. With a flick of his wrist, the essence streamed forth, piercing the inky veil and vanishing into its depths.

Gazing at the vaulted ceiling, now a canvas of illusionary skies, Wang Lin’s eyes flashed with arcane intent. He raised his hands, weaving intricate mudras, and whispered a single word.

“Lunar.”

It was his own creation, the Art of the Flowing Moon – a sorcery capable of compressing a millennium’s passage into a fleeting moment. A power not merely for battle, but now employed to nurture the very source of his being.

To command the cycles of the cosmos was a feat few mortals could even fathom, especially for one like Wang Lin, who sought to conjure existence from naught, to decree the boundaries of night and day.

Were any to witness this spectacle, they would surely be awestruck.

“The Deathkin’s arts of creating pocket realms, the Grand Empyrean’s ability to materialize from nothingness – to forge one’s own world… combined with my Lunar Force, I can mimic the turning of the heavens…”

“And since I only enchant this single chamber wall, I can still maintain control.” Wang Lin watched the ceiling, where the dance of darkness and light played out at an accelerated pace, each cycle a mere heartbeat.

“Hopefully, this will deepen the understanding of the Primordial and Nihilistic Origins.” With a tap to his brow, Wang Lin unleashed a strand of his divine soul, sending it soaring towards the ceiling. It became one with the shifting heavens, an observer to the celestial ballet.

This sliver of his essence, offered to the heavens, was now beyond his immediate concern. Enlightenment was no fleeting fancy, and only after years would he recall it, to claim the accumulated wisdom of its timeless vigil.

“The Origin of Inhibition…” Wang Lin’s gaze fell upon the swirling mists, etched with arcane runes – the very essence of Inhibition, a companion since the ancient lands of the God of Ancients.

After a moment’s pause, Wang Lin remembered the journeys his mentor, Xuan Luo, had taken him on. In those forgotten places, he had gathered a trove of restrictive arrays. These would prove invaluable in the strengthening of his Inhibitory Origin.

With a sigh, Wang Lin gestured towards his Avatar of the Five Elements. The avatar’s eyes snapped open, meeting Wang Lin’s gaze. In a flash, it rose and dissolved into five streams of light, merging into the Origin of Inhibition. It would be the Avatar, not Wang Lin, who would assimilate the captured arrays, nurturing the growing source.

Finally, Wang Lin turned to the Avatar of Slaughtering Lightning, containing the most crucial, and yet most inscrutable, part of his being – the Origin of Slaughter!

“Slaughter… He first appeared, calling himself Lu Mo. The Daoist Master of that ancient kingdom knew him as well…” Wang Lin’s eyes clouded with thought. A suspicion gnawed at his heart, yet he kept it buried deep.

“Slaughter is immortal, synonymous with annihilation, and thus cannot be erased. This Origin of Slaughter is only partially formed. It cannot yet manifest its true self. I wonder… am I doing right?” Wang Lin hesitated.

“I have always held this Origin of Slaughter in check. It was born from the union of lightning, and I used Inhibition to maintain balance. The understanding of Nihilistic Origin augmented the power of Slaughter, and thus I used Primordial and Inhibition to counter it once more.”

“If all can reach their true potential, then perhaps I can maintain the delicate equilibrium. And besides, I have other methods!” Wang Lin muttered, his face hardening with resolve. There was no turning back. Advancement demanded this sacrifice.

As Wang Lin stared at the Origin of Slaughter and its accompanying Lightning Avatar, the avatar’s eyes flared open. Lightning crackled in its gaze as it roared and inhaled the very Origin into its being. The lightning that coursed through its frame transformed, becoming a chilling shade of black.

Slaughtering Lightning had returned.

His eyes burning with fierce intensity, Wang Lin formed a series of incantations and pointed at the strange new being. In a blur, the Slaughtering Lightning approached Wang Lin and merged with his very essence.

Wang Lin was bolstering the Origin of Slaughter with his own lifeblood of countless killings. As the fusion occurred, ghostly echoes shimmered around his form, as if unable to fully coalesce.

But Wang Lin showed no surprise, as if this was anticipated. His hands danced in arcane movements, and each touch dispersed the shifting shadows. Beads of sweat gathered on his brow as his face grew taut with concentration.

Time flowed on, unheeded. At last, as the final touch was made, the Slaughtering Lightning Avatar melded completely with his body, leaving no trace of its former existence. Wang Lin bit his tongue, spitting out a mouthful of blood. With a flick of his hand, the blood turned to runes, which coiled back to cling to his flesh.

“Blood Refinement!” Wang Lin roared, his eyes slamming shut. He stood motionless.

He sought to not only bolster the Origin of Slaughter, but to guard against future peril, to forge Lu Mo anew!

This was the second time he had embarked upon the creation of the Slaughtering Lightning. The first time was during the accidental birth of the avatar.

Years passed, silently and inexorably.

On the Immortal-Astral Continent, the emergence of the Primordial God Realm had deepened the undercurrents of unrest. An oppressive weight blanketed the entire land.

The Immortal Sects retreated into silence, an unprecedented cessation of conflict. They were gathering their strength, preparing for the opening of the Primordial Realm in centuries to come.

Almost every power felt the growing tension, anticipating a great conflict not seen in ages!

It would be a battle where Great Empyreans might fall, and where Heavenly Venerates and sects would be wiped from the annals of history, while others would rise to glory.

The Ancient Clans were no different. The three Royal Houses, obeying the commands of Grand Empyrean Gu Dao, were feverishly preparing for war. The ominous air hung heavy, and even the great Grand Empyreans retreated to their secluded chambers.
From the ancient Daogu Dynasty, Luo Chen ascended to become the new Emperor. Yet, a fledgling ruler, he found himself a stranger in his own realm, requiring time to acclimate before he could truly command all that was his.

In the interim, the venerable Ancestor-Emperor Zuye stepped forth to govern the affairs of the Daogu lineage. As for Xuan Luo, upon Luo Chen’s coronation, he retreated into seclusion. His destined hour of reincarnation drew near, and with the looming threat of the Primordial Divine Realm, the present was deemed an inopportune moment. Instead of succumbing to fate, Xuan Luo suppressed the cycle, awaiting a time of tranquility before embracing his next life.

A similar predicament befell the Shigu Dynasty. Their aged Emperor approached the end of his ten-thousand-year reign. According to ancient decree, save for the express consent of the Great Celestial Venerable Song Tian, he was bound to abdicate and pass the throne to his heir. With barely a century remaining, the Shigu Emperor remained in solemn silence, powerless to defy the law. The princes of the Shigu Dynasty turned their expectant gazes toward the Celestial Venerable Song Tian.

Prince Jidu sought audience with the Celestial Venerable time and again, but each attempt was thwarted at the gates of Primal Mountain. As time dwindled, the fear grew that once Song Tian rendered his decision, all would be lost.

At that very moment, within Prince Jidu’s palace, three figures were gathered. Among them was Jidu himself, his brow furrowed, his countenance marked by anxiety and indecision. By his side sat a young woman, her eyes mirroring his concern as she glanced at him.

“Brother, the esteemed Wang Lin has been in seclusion for a century… and Father’s abdication draws ever closer. By custom, the new Emperor should be chosen a century before the transfer. Judging by the timing, a decree could be issued within these next few years. If you do not seek Wang Lin’s aid, I fear all will be in vain…” The woman sighed softly. She was the very maiden who had once attended Jidu, now married to a prodigy of the Shigu Dynasty, one celebrated as the most formidable of the younger generation and now Jidu’s trusted advisor. He sat silently beside the woman, observing the scene with a cold detachment.

“Rumor has it, this predecessor is the Tenth Sun of Xiangang. Yet, upon departing the Daogu Dynasty, he immediately secluded himself here. It seems he was wounded… Can he truly sway the Venerable Song?” The speaker was a young man clad in violet robes, the woman’s husband.

“Brother!” The woman’s anxiety intensified.

“Say no more! Father warned before his seclusion that nothing should disturb him…” Jidu struggled for a moment, then let out a long sigh and spoke with resolute finality.

“Brother…” The woman bit her lip, swallowing her words as she saw Jidu’s firm resolve.

Only the purple-robed youth smirked faintly, clearly unconvinced that this Wang Lin, whom he had never met, possessed the legendary power ascribed to him.

“Even if Father remains absent, my century of preparations will give me a fighting chance! Huang Man… and my esteemed brother… I wonder, if they were to die, would the Venerable Song still choose a corpse as Emperor!” A flicker of cold resolve ignited in Jidu’s eyes.

A chilling aura immediately permeated the hall. The woman shuddered, wanting to speak, but could only taste bitterness. The brother before her had changed so drastically in a hundred years that she barely recognized him.

The hall fell silent. The purple-robed youth, upon hearing Jidu’s words, also fell into contemplation. After a long pause, he abruptly looked up, just as he was about to speak, an immense pressure descended upon the hall, silently and without warning.

The arrival of this pressure twisted the very heavens and earth. A palpable and indescribable force erupted from the chamber where Wang Lin had secluded himself, soaring skyward, piercing the heavens.

The once serene sky shattered as if struck, unleashing countless fragments that roared and thundered in all directions.

“A celestial omen!”

“It emanates from Father’s place of seclusion! Father has emerged!” Jidu leaped to his feet, his face alight with fervent anticipation.