The circle woven by the Kun Whip slackened ever so slightly, then dissolved into a ray of light, vanishing into the fabric of the heavens and earth.

The artifact, now one with the very essence of his will, shed its physical form. It became like the void itself, unseen, yet undeniably felt.

Xu Liguo, teetering on the precipice of collapse, staggered back, his eyes wide with a terror that refused to abate. Gone was the swagger, the arrogance. Now, only servile flattery clung to his lips as he stammered, “My Lord’s divine powers grow ever more formidable! In truth, this humble Xu merely sought to provide ample opportunity for your Lordship to practice! My fealty is as boundless as the sky itself, devoid of even a whisper of treachery!”

Wang Lin cast a glance upon Xu Liguo, his expression impassive. “Since you have emerged, there is no need to return to the storage pouch, for now. Roam these ten thousand leagues surrounding this peak and seek enlightenment of your Ancient Sword Intent.”

Xu Liguo was taken aback. Never had he expected the malevolent demon of a master to be so lenient. His eyes darted about, and he swiftly adopted a facade of unwavering loyalty. “Master, this humble servant cannot bear to be separated from your side! It is in your presence that I find true solace.” He spoke with a cautious glance directed at Wang Lin.

Wang Lin nodded slowly, his face a study in neutrality. “If such is your desire, then remain by my side.”

A smile flickered across Xu Liguo’s face, though his heart remained bitter. *Could it be that the fiend truly intends to allow me free rein within these ten thousand leagues? Nay, this does not align with his character.*

*There must be a deception at play!* he thought, preening inwardly. *Fortunate am I to possess such cunning, lest I fall victim to some cruel torment.*

With newfound confidence, Xu Liguo solidified his form and settled into a meditative posture nearby. After a time, however, unease crept back in. He would occasionally steal furtive glances at Wang Lin, seeking any hint of the truth behind the facade.

Wang Lin paid him no heed. Instead, he tapped his storage pouch. Immediately, the Mosquito Beast and the Thunder Frog appeared. The Mosquito Beast, with an air of contentment, nestled upon the back of the Thunder Frog. Upon its emergence, it let out a single, high-pitched screech as acknowledgement to Wang Lin, then settled back down, as if determined never to leave its perch.

Along with them came other Mosquito Beasts, the younglings that had followed Wang Lin in the past. They were yet to reach their full size, but even now, they possessed a fearsome countenance.

The Thunder Frog, seemingly accustomed to the detestable Mosquito Beast upon its back, merely croaked out peals of thunder and found a patch of ground, where it promptly settled down, feigning sleep.

Next, the Divine Chariot shot forth, transforming with a thunderous clap into the Thunder Beast. The beast, upon its appearance, locked its gaze onto the Thunder Frog, a low growl rumbling in its throat.

The Thunder Frog, its earlier languor banished, snapped open its eyes, staring directly at the Thunder Beast. Its belly rumbled with thunderous intent, while the Mosquito Beast on its back sat up with renewed vigor, regarding the Thunder Beast with undisguised interest.

Xu Liguo, eyes wide, scrutinized the Thunder Beast. “Truly, my master is peerless!” he muttered to himself. “It has barely been any time at all, and already he has acquired another witless beast! Fight, you fools, fight! Then you shall learn that I, Xu, have served the master the longest!”

“Though I must admit, my master certainly possesses a gift with beasts. A quality I, Xu, cannot match. No, my talents lie with… charming maidens!” Xu Liguo’s gaze momentarily softened as he recalled the fair maiden of the Land of the Demon Spirit.

“Alas, love is but a wellspring of regret… a truth that the malevolent Wang the Fiend can never comprehend.” Xu Liguo sighed, casting a final glance at the Thunder Beast, Thunder Frog, and Mosquito Beasts, before turning his attention back to the meditating Wang Lin. A sense of lonely pride filled his heart.

The refining of the magical treasure continued, but it was no longer the focus. Time was short, and Wang Lin intended to adjust his divine abilities based on what he had glimpsed of the Third Step.

Among the divine abilities within his grasp, the most potent he could currently wield was the Severing Karma Spell. However, until he broke through the first step of cultivation and reached the Yin Void realm, each cast of this spell would drain him of a significant portion of his spiritual energy.

Then there was the Body Immobilization Spell, a power no less potent than the Severing Karma Spell. In certain circumstances, this art could be decisive.

Aside from these two, he possessed Annihilation, Demonic Transformation, and the Three Fingers of the Yellow Springs!

And there were also the three forms of Dao Will forged from the Cycle of Life and Death: The Ethereal Yellow Springs, Condensed Spring Soul, and the Yellow Springs Power.

It was the Annihilation, Demonic Transformation, and Three Fingers of the Yellow Springs that he wished to adjust! If he were to continue cultivating these three arts, they would pose a grave threat to his ascension into the Third Step. These three abilities were incomplete and would even inflict discomfort upon his body. As to the exact reason they would prove so detrimental to the Third Step, Wang Lin was unclear; he only felt it intuitively.

Lost in thought, he extended his right index finger, demonstrating each of these three abilities in turn, seeking any sign of their flaws. Gradually, his right hand began to move faster, the Annihilation, Demonic Transformation, and Three Fingers of the Yellow Springs cycling through in rapid succession.

Frowning, Wang Lin relied on his vague intuition to discern the underlying flaws and gradually sought to correct them. This process was exceedingly taxing, and before long, he began to feel fatigued.

After a brief respite, Wang Lin resumed his work.

The wheel of time turned once more, and two years passed. Throughout these years, Wang Lin focused the vast majority of his mind on analyzing his divine abilities, constantly seeking to improve them, yet still failing to achieve true satisfaction.

Wang Lin knew that he was being impatient.

But he did not give up. Instead, he endeavored to improve them slowly, to the best of his ability. Had the cultivators of the Nascent Soul or Shattered Nirvana realms witnessed his current actions, they would have been astonished! For this process was akin to deriving an innate immortal art from a mere divine ability, a feat that few, even those like Sky Bearing, could accomplish.

During these two years, the Thunder Frog and Thunder Beast remained at odds, though they never engaged in a true clash. The Thunder Frog’s cultivation was insufficient to launch an attack, while the Thunder Beast disdained the idea, even though it sensed a potential threat from the other beast.

As for the Mosquito Beast, its interest shifted from the Thunder Frog to the Thunder Beast. It would occasionally fly up and circle the Thunder Beast, as if attempting to perch upon its back.

Each attempt failed, but with each failure, the Mosquito Beast’s determination grew stronger.
Lord Xu, a spirit of mischief and whimsy, held little regard for the affairs of mortals. As the ages drifted by, he observed that Wang Lin, the master of this domain, seemed to have forgotten his existence. With stealth and cunning, Xu retreated, until he stood a hundred paces from Wang Lin’s presence. There, he transformed into a wisp of enchanted mist, and with joyous abandon, swept through the ten thousand leagues of the mountain peak.

Bound by Wang Lin’s decree, Xu dared not venture beyond these confines. Yet, the solitude grew wearisome. No mortal shadows dared cross his path within these borders; those from the outer world, wary of the peak’s reputation, skirted it from afar. This vexed the mischievous spirit.

A year and a half past, a band of cultivators had strayed near the edge of his domain. Initially hesitant to trespass, Xu beguiled them with illusions, luring them into his grasp. After a period of merry torment, he released them back into the world.

From that day forward, no other cultivators dared to approach. Those who had suffered Xu’s pranks carried the chilling memory with them for many years hence.

One day, as he frolicked within his limited realm, yearning for the intrusion of an unwary mortal, a familiar tremor shook Xu’s very essence. A wave of energy, long dormant, washed over him.

Eyes gleaming with anticipation, Xu stared toward the shrouded mists beyond his domain, and with unrestrained glee, roared, “Finally! Someone has come!”

At the edge of the black mist, some ten thousand leagues from the mountain peak, stood Zhang Xinhai, his face etched with weariness and touched by the chill of death. Beside him was his son, a man of middle years, cloaked in black robes, his anxiety palpable. His cultivation had reached the pinnacle of the nascent soul stage.

“Father,” the son said, his voice a mere whisper, his gaze fixed with trepidation on the swirling mists. “Must we truly go?”

“We must, my son,” Zhang Xinhai replied, his voice gravelly. “My life dwindles. Besides fulfilling the master’s request, I seek to introduce you to him. When I return to the void, you shall take my place, serving the master so that our lineage may endure forever!”

The son hesitated. “But, Father, I have heard whispers from my fellow cultivators that this master…possesses certain…peculiarities. A year past, several of our brethren were…”

Zhang Xinhai spun around, his eyes blazing with a fierce warning. The son fell silent.

Like a phantom, Xu swept toward them, unseen and unheard amidst the black mist. His eyes danced with a predatory glee as he gazed upon the pair. He muttered to himself, “The elder is near death, too frail for my games. I shall spare his worn vessel. As for the younger…ah, yes…” The light in Xu’s eyes grew ever brighter, an unsettling lust coloring his gaze as he perused the younger man.

He cleared his throat, adopting a tone of righteous authority. “Who goes there? Identify yourselves!”

Zhang Xinhai drew a deep breath. He remained a respectful distance from the black mist, clasping his hands in a gesture of reverence. “I am Zhang Xinhai. I have fulfilled the master’s task and seek an audience.”

His voice, hoarse and strained, drifted into the swirling darkness.

Xu’s eyes darted back and forth. “The elder, come forward. I shall guide you to my master.”

Zhang Xinhai paused, considering his words. He took a step forward, plunging into the heart of the black mist. As he did, a whirlwind of force enveloped him, carrying him forward with the speed of a thunderbolt.

In but a few moments, he stood atop the mountain peak. The wind subsided, and he saw Wang Lin standing before him. He bowed low, a model of humility. “Master, I have not failed in my task. I have gathered the grievances of all the mortals of Qing Ling Star.” He produced a thousand jade slips from his storage ring, placing them on the ground. He then retreated a few paces, his head bowed.

Having delivered Zhang Xinhai to his master, Xu gleefully returned to the black mist, his eyes fixed upon the younger man. “Come hither, little one! Fear not; Xu will bestow upon you great blessings!” Seeing the man’s hesitation, he roared, “Enter now!”

The younger man steeled himself and stepped into the black mist.

Wang Lin opened his eyes, his spiritual sense sweeping across the jade slips. The resentment contained within was palpable, a vast and swirling storm of negative energy.

“Well done. He who accompanies you shall serve as my envoy beyond the confines of the Heng Yun Peak,” Wang Lin declared. After a moment’s reflection, he drew a pill from his storage pouch and tossed it to Zhang Xinhai.

“Give this to your son. If he possesses sufficient talent, the spiritual energy within may grant him a chance to attain the Nascent Soul stage.”

Zhang Xinhai’s face lit up with joy. He caught the pill reverently, placing it securely within his robes. “Thank you, Master!”

“This resentment is ethereal and ever-renewing. Henceforth, your family shall collect it anew every few years,” Wang Lin commanded. He reached into his storage pouch again, producing a handful of crimson seeds, remnants of his time with Qian Kuizi.

“These are the seeds of the Ascending Immortal Fruit. Have your clan plant them and nourish them with spiritual energy. Strive to cultivate as many as possible over the coming decade.”

Zhang Xinhai nodded eagerly, promising to obey.

Father and son departed from the peak of Heng Yun, though the son’s face was filled with a certain wistful longing, hinting at an odd experience in the mists.

As for Xu, he was placed under strict confinement by Wang Lin. Had the spirit’s actions been more heinous, Wang Lin would have considered obliterating him.

Confined within the narrow boundaries of a hundred paces, Xu wore an expression of abject misery, yet dared not defy his master’s decree. He gazed longingly into the distance, sighing to himself.

“What is the harm in briefly merging with a mortal vessel, in experiencing the sensation of having flesh once more? What is the harm in a little fun, alas…”

Wang Lin paid him no heed. After confining Xu, he resumed his work of perfecting his divine abilities, absorbing the accumulated resentment into the River of the Underworld.

The addition of this resentment transformed the river. The coalescing energies slowly began to shape the shadow of a soul within its depths.
The sands of time slipped through Wang Lin’s grasp like grains of stardust. The arduous refinement of his divine abilities devoured his strength, leaving him still shy of complete mastery. Yet, within the crucible of this striving, he gleaned insights into the path of the Third Step. His comprehension, though still nascent, bloomed with each passing moon.

In the eighteenth harvest since his arrival upon the verdant 青靈 Star, his mastery of the Cycle of Life and Death reached its zenith. It was complete, flawless. This signified that, given sufficient celestial energy, he could truly ascend to the pinnacle of the First Step of cultivation!

A hoard of immortal jade remained within Wang Lin’s pouch, though he knew not if it would suffice. Should it prove wanting, he resolved to imbibe the celestial nectar. This time, he swore to reach the Grand Perfection of the late-stage Asking Realm, to scale the very peak of the First Step of cultivation!

“The First Step of cultivation…” Wang Lin’s gaze burned with fierce determination.

“When I first reached the Asking Realm,” he mused, “the ancient demon Bellow spoke of the heaven-defying path, that it invites celestial wrath. I wonder, if I one day transcend the Asking Realm and attain the realm of Yin Void, will I too face the fury of the heavens?” Wang Lin lifted his gaze to the firmament, his eyes reflecting the cold steel of his resolve.

*(The author’s note is omitted as it’s not part of the story).*