Months drifted by, and in the heart of the Viridian Expanse, a swamp of emerald decay festered. Bubbles, bloated with putrescence, belched forth from its depths, releasing a sickly sweet miasma that clung to the air like a shroud. This fetid fog, born from the ceaseless popping of these noxious bubbles, draped itself over the land, a testament to the swamp’s ancient rot.

Within this sprawling mire, stretching across leagues beyond counting, rose a monument of stark, obsidian power: a colossal scorpion. Its form, a horrifying simulacrum of the arachnid, stood a thousand fathoms tall, its ebony carapace gleaming unnaturally under the sickly light. The immense scorpion, a temple of sorts, exuded a malevolent aura, a palpable wave of dark energy that choked the life from the surrounding lands. Mortals, save for those steeped in the deepest arts of the Shadow, dared not approach, lest they be consumed by its corrupting influence, their minds shattered and twisted by its insidious touch.

The disciples of the Path of Shadow, save for their Lord, had in these past months, returned to the temple. Only the Lord, who had captured the unfortunate Wang Lin, arrived at the foot of the scorpion-shaped edifice.

His power allowed him to approach this place unscathed by the corrupting emanations.

As the Lord of the Path of Shadow materialized near the colossal construct, a raspy cough, weak yet undeniably present, echoed from within the scorpion’s gaping maw.

In the oppressive silence, each wheezing exhalation hung in the air, a morbid symphony of decay.

As the coughing grew nearer, three figures emerged from the scorpion’s jaws, their forms slowly resolving from the shadows within.

The two flanking the rear wore robes of verdant hue, upon which was stitched a venomous scorpion. Though they possessed the visages of middle age, their eyes were like chips of ice, devoid of warmth or emotion. Their presence bespoke a power that could shatter stars, a force that protected the withered form before them.

The figure in the front was cloaked head-to-toe in a flowing green robe. Bent with age, he shuffled forward, punctuating each step with a rattling cough.

“Is the prize…secure?” the ancient voice croaked, halting before the Lord of the Path of Shadow.

The Lord, treating the robed figure with deference, bowed his head and replied, “He is here, Master of the Rites. Behold.” With a flick of his wrist, a sphere of swirling ebony and silver light materialized before him. Within, Wang Lin floated, eyes closed, unmoving.

“Excellent! He will serve well to bind the fortunes of the Viridian Expanse, and appease the Green Lord…” The robed figure raised his head, his face obscured by the cowl, but within the shadows, two baleful eyes gleamed with unnatural light. He regarded Wang Lin with a chilling satisfaction.

“The capture of this one came at a steep price to the Path of Shadow,” the Lord remarked, his tone laced with subtle calculation.

“When the Green Lord rises, the reward promised will be yours! But to anchor this one, the secrets of the Path of Shadow must be employed. You know what must be done…purge his mind, shatter his spirit and memories!” The ancient one rasped, his voice vibrating with a fanatic fervor as he gazed upon Wang Lin.

“His will is strong, and the cleansing of his mind, the shattering of memory and spirit, will not be easily achieved,” the Lord replied, a faint smile playing upon his lips as he remained still.

“Cough… the Viridian Expanse of the future belongs only to the Path of Shadow!” The robed figure shuddered with a violent fit of coughing, then, more calmly, finished his thought.

“So be it. If the Master of the Rites promises this, I will lend my all to help his destiny!” the Lord agreed, smiling wider. He lifted his hand, a finger reaching out and piercing the orb of light to strike Wang Lin’s brow. Then, with a swift motion, he seized the sphere and hurled it towards the yawning abyss of the scorpion’s maw.

With a deafening roar, Wang Lin, his eyes still shut, was flung towards the colossal arachnid. As he hurtled downwards, a massive vortex erupted on the scorpion’s back, drawing him in.

“He possesses a multitude of Essences… eight in all, with one already forged into a True Essence! Within that multitude, one resonates with my own… the Essence of Thunder! I will use the Essence of Thunder as the bridge through which to shatter his mind and memories!” With those words, the Lord of the Path of Shadow settled into a meditative pose, closing his eyes and becoming still.

The robed figure at the scorpion’s mouth coughed as he turned and retreated into the darkness. Slowly, the sounds of his hacking cough faded into the depths of the structure. The two guardians, the Emerald Attendants, remained silent as they followed, disappearing into the shadows without a trace.

In the deepest chamber of the scorpion’s heart, a realm of shimmering green void spread before Wang Lin. Each mote held a tiny scorpion soul, wailing in an endless chorus of torment.

Wang Lin’s body sat there, motionless. On it slowly formed countless emerald scorpions, covering most of him.

His body did not move, yet the eye contained the glint of lighting. And in that moment, inside of his body, an Essence raged. The thunderous power from within Wang Lin!

As thunder coursed through his veins, he could be heard cracking and snapping from time to time. And along his body, arcs of lighting appeared and coursed.

At that moment, Wang Lin had sunken deep into unconsciousness. His soul, his mind, his everything had been put to sleep. But something hidden from the priest and lord occurred: inside of Wang Lin’s soul, a bead slowly turned.

As the orb turned, Wang Lin’s soul and mind shivered, protected by its gentle light.
As if sundered in twain, spirit and flesh were no longer one within him, a bizarre state of being gripping Wang Lin. The nascent thunder essence within his mortal coil surged with an ever-growing might, soon dwarfing his other nascent powers, though still shy of the fully-formed fire essence. Yet, the gap between them dwindled with each passing heartbeat.

Within Wang Lin’s being, an unseen conduit seemed to open, stretching forth and binding to the seated form of the Dao Demon Sect Lord, who meditated beyond the massive scorpion edifice. This conduit became the channel through which his own, nearly perfected thunder essence flowed, intertwining with that of the ensnared Wang Lin.

Months drifted by, marked by the slow turning of unseen tides.

Within Wang Lin, the thunder essence swelled, his body a cage of constant booms and cracks as it greedily devoured the thunder-infused will that poured from the sect lord’s connection.

Without, the Dao Demon Sect Lord frowned. Never had he conceived that Wang Lin’s own thunder essence could absorb so much of his own without yielding its integrity.

His original design was simple: within a moon’s turn, his own thunder essence, imbued with his will, would entirely supplant Wang Lin’s. Through this, he could subtly unravel Wang Lin’s mind, leaving a shell devoid of memories and consciousness. Such a method would adhere to the sacrosanct requirements of the ritual.

Were it not for this cursed ritual, the Sect Lord possessed countless means to obliterate Wang Lin’s spirit in the blink of an eye. However, such blunt force risked even the slightest mar upon the vessel, an unacceptable outcome that could impede the Green Scorpion’s resurrection.

“Priest, I require aid,” the Sect Lord intoned, his voice breaking the fourth month’s silence. “Under your restrictions, this task proves… taxing.”

He discovered, to his chagrin, that virtually all of his thunder essence had been siphoned into Wang Lin’s body, yet it had failed to conquer the younger man’s will.

A perplexing anomaly, as if a vortex existed within Wang Lin, hungrily devouring his own essence. In truth, the Dao Demon Sect Lord’s suspicion was close to the mark. Within Wang Lin, the Celestial Jewel spun tirelessly, shielding his soul and greedily absorbing any essence that did not bear the mark of Wang Lin’s own spirit.

“I… *cough*,” a raspy, ancient voice echoed from within the scorpion, cut short by a fit of violent coughing. “I possess two Thunder Emperor Pearls… bartered from the Thunder Continent… intended as an offering upon the Great One’s return… Take one…”

As the words faded, the heavens roared, and a bolt of grey lightning shot from the scorpion’s heart, hurtling towards the Dao Demon Sect Lord.

In a heartbeat, it coalesced before him into a fist-sized pearl. Countless lightning strikes danced within, each revealing fleeting visions of a war chariot and a nebulous figure, a specter of a Thunder Emperor!

Even with the Dao Demon Sect Lord’s knowledge and experience, the sight of this pearl caused his heart to leap. A flicker of avarice sparked in his eyes, swiftly suppressed. This treasure was meant for the resurrected Green Scorpion, far beyond his reach. Only the desperate need to extinguish Wang Lin’s mind could compel the Priest to part with it.

Without hesitation, the Dao Demon Sect Lord opened his maw and inhaled. The Thunder Emperor Pearl dissolved into a cascade of lightning, each strand connected. As he swallowed it whole, his thunder essence surged to untold heights, but before he could command a single spark, it all rushed toward the conduit, drawn into Wang Lin’s being with ferocious haste.

Deep within the green chambers of the scorpion, Wang Lin’s body trembled violently. His own thunder essence, now swelled to unimaginable proportions, showed the first signs of coalescing into a true Thunder Avatar!