A phantom orb of flesh, wholly unreal, manifested, swirling with sable shadows. Its spectral form emitted a piercing wail, coalescing into a vast, iridescent arc hurtling toward Wang Lin’s thousand-foot-tall Five Elements True Body.

As it drew nigh, the piercing shriek intensified, a sound that threatened to unravel the very fabric of existence.

Yet, at the instant of its arrival, deep within the earth palace, in a secluded chamber where Wang Lin sat in meditation, his right hand remained raised. Upon his palm rested a miniature effigy of himself, poised in the same contemplative posture, seemingly mirroring his breath.

Suddenly, Wang Lin’s eyes snapped open. A century and more of seclusion had wrought a profound transformation. His countenance was serene, betraying neither joy nor wrath. At the very moment his eyes unveiled, the miniature upon his palm mirrored the action, its own orbs gleaming with a knowing light, a fleeting hint of profound deduction.

Within Wang Lin’s hand, the tiny figure prostrated itself, bowing nine times with solemn reverence. As Wang Lin clenched his fist, the effigy vanished without a trace.

“The Art of Soul Derivation…truly profound!” Wang Lin murmured, his gaze lifting to the heavens, a cold smile gracing his lips.

“Two decades past, I employed this art to discern the catalyst for the complete fusion of my Slaughter Thunder True Body. After countless iterations, I discovered the key – a soul of prodigious malice!

Only such a dark essence holds the potential to bind the Slaughter Thunder into a true form. My deductions revealed that this very soul would be delivered to me upon the day of this fusion. And indeed…the soul has arrived!” Wang Lin declared, his right hand ascending, pointing toward the firmament.

At that single gesture, the sky above underwent a cataclysmic shift. The dance of black and white faltered, its rhythmic pulse abruptly stilled. Even the myriad runes and seals, which pulsed with potent magic, froze in mid-flicker.

Likewise, the Five Elements True Body became as a statue, unmoving and silent.

Simultaneously, the onrushing Rohou, screaming its primal rage, abruptly arrested. Its spectral form hung motionless, suspended in the celestial expanse as if captured in amber. A singular eye, filled with ferocious intent, was now frozen in its bloodthirsty gaze.

The Art of Immobile Dominion!

A single word, a decree of stagnation. Wielded by Wang Lin’s current power, its force was earth-shattering. As the Rohou was rendered immobile, the black and white dance resumed, the runes and seals sparked back to life, and the Five Elements True Body stirred once more.

Then, a surge of runes poured forth, converging upon the petrified Rohou. In an instant, they plunged into its ethereal form, unleashing a torrent of spectral light. Visibly, the Rohou began to shrink as it greedily absorbed the energies of the seals.

Within its lone eye, the ferocious gleam faded, replaced by the faint outline of a humanoid figure. The shape solidified, and in the blink of an eye, it became an exact replica of Wang Lin himself!

The visage that mirrored Wang Lin smiled, stepping from the Rohou’s eye and standing in the celestial expanse. Power emanating from it the boundless essence of Restriction.

This, was Wang Lin’s Binding Origin True Body.

At that very moment, from the black and white tapestry of the heavens, the dawn’s light transformed into a streak and merged with the Rohou. Its form shuddered, diminished once more, and a second, hazy figure appeared within the eye.

This figure radiated a bright light and took form beside the first: Wang Lin’s Prime Origin True Body.

Next, the essence of Annihilation, the dark seed of the wood element, wove through and covered the Rohou. The Rohou’s eye pulsed crimson as the third True Body left the shrinking body: Wang Lin’s Nihil Origin True Body.

For a century, Wang Lin used the skills of the Mourn clan to create the Dawn. The Prime and Nihil Origin True Bodies came to be. Each was incomplete, so Wang Lin hoped for completion through the malevolent spirit of the Rohou.

All five True Bodies would try to become One.

Within his chamber, as the three True Bodies manifested, Wang Lin’s eyes glowed with otherworldly light. His own form shimmered, and dark lightning coursed through his essence. The Slaughter Thunder True Body, finally emerging, pierced the chamber’s veil and soared into the heavens.

As it surged skyward, arcs of dark lightning crackled outwards, echoing with a thunderous roar.

“For a century, nurtured and refined, this Slaughter is inseparable from me. It is no longer capable of betrayal, and it possesses the strength to coalesce into a True Body!

Whether or not the five shall merge into one… rests on this moment!” Wang Lin breathed, his expression grave as he made seals with his hands, casting his vast divine sense over the cosmos.

The Slaughter Thunder True Body, a bolt of dark lightning, plunged into the Rohou. The creature shuddered violently, diminishing with impossible speed, until with a final implosion, it ceased to exist, leaving only the enormous eye.

That eye hung in the void, dim and lifeless, resembling a monstrous egg.

Time passed, and after a stick of incense had burned, the cyclopean eye was riddled with cracks. With an earth-shattering burst, it shattered, and from within emerged not one, but two figures!

One, was the fully materialized Thunder Origin True Body. The other was a dark-haired being, exuding coldness and an overwhelming aura of ruthlessness – the Slaughter True Body itself!

This new form looked to the sky as a terrifying energy flowed from within. Its very being declared the essence of destruction:

“I… am called Slaughter,” the dark-haired Wang Lin murmured, his voice echoing with a power that could shatter the stars.
He lowered his gaze, a chilling survey of the land below. The palace guards, arrayed within that earthen fortress, erupted in agonizing screams as his eyes swept over them. This was not the shriek of physical pain, nor the death rattle of mortal wounds, but a keening born of pure, unadulterated terror. A fear that resonated from the deepest wellspring of their souls!

Within the grand hall, the violet-robed youth trembled, his spirit consumed by the encroaching dread. Even the princely Jituh, heir to the throne, could not suppress the shivering in his limbs, his heart gripped by icy dread.

“I am called Lumok!” the dark-haired Wang Lin roared, his voice echoing through the heavens. But the declaration was met with a disdainful snort from the very heart of the earthen palace.

The sound struck Wang Lin like a physical blow, silencing his proclamation and contorting his face in agony and madness. Seizing the opportunity, the Lightning Avatar whirled, transforming into a blinding bolt that plunged back into Wang Lin’s form, unleashing a vortex of chaotic black lightning.

Next, the Source of Banishment Avatar shimmered, dissolving into a swarm of arcane runes that coalesced into a raging storm of enchantments. With Wang Lin’s furious bellow as its soundtrack, the storm engulfed him, embedding its power within.

Simultaneously, the Primal Source and Oblivion Wood Avatars moved, becoming twin streaks of black and white light, each hurtling towards Wang Lin and merging with his essence.

“I AM CALLED LUMOK!!” the dark-haired Wang Lin screamed, his features twisted into a grotesque mask. Within him, the shadows of the other four Avatars flickered into existence, their forms superimposed upon his own, as if striving to tear themselves free.

“No one can chain me! I am Lumok!” he howled, and with a desperate effort, the superimposed shadows within his body were forced outward, separated by a sliver of space, a sight most unnatural and disturbing!

A second, colder snort echoed forth, causing Wang Lin to shudder violently. High above him, the Five Elements Avatar appeared, its towering form of a thousand fathoms shrinking rapidly, channeling the immense power of the five elements into a colossal hand that descended upon him.

“I am Lumok!” Wang Lin bellowed, throwing back his head, his eyes blazing with destructive intent, ready to defy the crushing force. But in that instant, a terrifying pressure descended upon the ten thousand fathoms surrounding him. This oppressive force pulsed with immense divine will, a will that commanded the very fabric of reality, relentlessly bearing down upon Wang Lin.

And then, behind him, the fragmented image of Lohu, the God of Destruction, materialized. Though shattered into countless pieces, they were held together by threads of darkest night, slowly, inexorably fusing under the relentless pressure. As the fragmented deity reformed, the superimposed Avatar shadows within Wang Lin ceased their outward struggle, drawn instead back into his core, merging into a single, unified whole.

“Because you are Wang Lin’s second Avatar, you shall be Lumok! From this day forth, you will stand in my stead, punishing all who oppose me! Inflict the destruction I command! Slaughter the souls that plot against me!”

“You are named Lumok, with the title of Executioner!”

The resounding voice reverberated through the heavens and the earth. The fragmented image of Lohu behind the dark-haired Wang Lin completed its fusion. The four superimposed shadows within his body became one with him, indistinguishable from his own.

The oppressive force vanished, and the world returned to its normal state. The dark-haired Wang Lin stood there, unchanged in appearance, slowly lifting his gaze.

“I am Lumok the Executioner!” His voice was calm, yet utterly devoid of warmth, emotionless and chilling. He embodied Wang Lin’s murderous intent and his capacity for devastation, a force that could make the heavens tremble, the earth shake, and all of Wang Lin’s enemies cower in fear.

As he looked up, his cold gaze swept across the vast distance, piercing through the veil of reality, and landed upon a figure seated atop a horn of the Primal Mountain, outside the Ancient Imperial City. It was Song Tian, his face etched with shock.

“Not good!” Song Tian gasped, recoiling in alarm. He instinctively leapt to his feet, grabbing Huang Man, and took flight. As he did, the very tip of the horn upon which he had been sitting crumbled, cascading down in a torrent of rock and dust.