The woman in rose-colored robes was ashen, her brow slick with glistening sweat. A wave of weakness washed over her. Despite this, the memory search hadn’t dealt a devastating blow; a short respite would see her recovered.

Wang Lin sighed softly. Regarding the Kunxu Holy Maiden, the answer he sought began to form in his mind. Incomplete as it was, his keen intellect and vast understanding allowed him to discern certain truths hidden within.

After a moment of contemplation, Wang Lin’s gaze swept the grand hall, seeking the activation point.

“Activate this formation, and you two may enter the eighth level. Fare thee well!” With a decisive step, Wang Lin triggered the teleportation array, his form vanishing in a flash of light.

He had spared the village woman, yet during the memory search, he’d destroyed all knowledge she possessed of his hidden secrets. Furthermore, he’d secretly placed a binding curse upon her. Should she persist in her unwanted attentions, Wang Lin would trigger the curse, shattering her very mind.

The eighth level of the Immortal Emperor’s Grotto welcomed Wang Lin with a cacophony of thunderous roars echoing in the distance. Waves of raw, untamed power pulsed through the air.

This level was shrouded in impenetrable darkness, swathed in swirling black mists that choked the senses and defied all attempts to pierce them. The booming sounds grew ever louder, punctuated by enraged howls that echoed through the gloom.

The voice…it sounded like Ling Tianhou.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed with concern. After a moment of careful listening, he began to retreat. But before he could take more than a step backward, the black mists roiled before him, and Ling Tianhou burst forth. He was a pitiable sight, his face deathly pale, etched with terror. A dark, festering palm print marred his chest, having torn through his robes and sunk into his flesh. Black mold writhed and crawled around the ghastly wound.

From within the inky depths of the mist, a demonic silhouette materialized, the darkness coalescing into a gargantuan, monstrous head that lunged to devour the fleeing Ling Tianhou.

Terror seized Ling Tianhou. With a desperate snarl, he spun around, spewing forth a torrent of primordial spirit energy. He clawed at the void before him, and a rift tore open, revealing a flash of crimson light. From within, his kirin beast lunged forth, snarling and charging headlong toward the monstrous visage.

The kirin was a shadow of its former glory, its magnificent coat matted with blood. A pang of anguish shot through Ling Tianhou as he looked upon its wounds, but dire circumstances left him no time for sentiment. “Blood Sacrifice!” he bellowed.

With a snap of his fingers, the last two of his primordial spirit swords materialized and shot forth, not towards the monstrous head, but towards the kirin.

The kirin let out a mournful cry, yet it offered no resistance as the blades pierced its body. Blood rained down, saturating the air within a hundred-foot radius.

“Beast Soul Manifest!” Ling Tianhou roared. The kirin’s body exploded in a shower of gore. From the wreckage rose its spirit, a spectral form of raw power. The spirit threw back its head and unleashed a soundless roar, perceptible only to the soul. The sound struck Wang Lin’s soul like a thunderbolt.

The Kirin’s soul lunged toward the demon head, seeking to stall the monster’s pursuit. Ling Tianhou, eyes bloodshot, watched the rain of kirin blood. His heart wept.

This kirin had served him for countless years. The bond between them was sacred, inviolable, yet he was forced to sacrifice it, to use its blood to fuel its spirit’s growth.

With a growl, Ling Tianhou wove intricate hand seals and pointed forward. The spilled blood lifted, swirling madly, converging upon the monstrous head locked in battle with the Kirin’s soul. Through the crimson deluge flashed threads of gold. The black mists parted as the blood, unhindered, swirled around the monstrous head.

“Wang Lin, aid me! The dangers here cannot be overcome alone! I will explain later!” Ling Tianhou had fled this way because he’d sensed someone teleporting in. He suspected it was Wang Lin.

Wang Lin, having only just arrived, witnessed Ling Tianhou’s desperate plight – the sacrifice of his kirin – and a sense of foreboding settled in his gut.

He needed answers, and he needed them now. Determination hardening his features, Wang Lin strode forth from the shadows, wasting no time on pleasantries. He burst into view and launched himself into the air, preparing to unleash his power.

“All magical arts are useless against this creature! Worse, it will devour them!” Ling Tianhou shouted, frantically. He pulled a small, red sword from his storage bag and flung it forward like a bolt of lightning. As it neared the monstrous head, Ling Tianhou cried out in agony, “Explode!”

The sword detonated, unleashing a cataclysmic blast within the monstrous head. The creature shrieked in torment.

Wang Lin realized, this was an ancient demon! Though similar to Scattered Demons, it differed in one unsettling detail. A constellation of stars glowed within its left eye – eight in all, seven dimmed, only one burning bright with overwhelming demonic power.

As the demon reeled in pain, the sole burning star in its left eye spun wildly, radiating an even more intense surge of demonic power, filling the creature with an unsettling aura.

With a roar, the demon broke free of the Kirin’s soul and charged toward Ling Tianhou. Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed. He clenched his fist and unleashed a devastating blow.

The phantom of an ancient god materialized within the swirling darkness, yet it remained indistinct. Even so, the ancient god’s presence was enough to stagger the demon, halting its charge against Ling Tianhou. The demon spun around, its eye fixed solely on Wang Lin. It abandoned Ling Tianhou and lunged toward Wang Lin in a dark cloud.

The demon had recognized the power of the ancient god.

Wang Lin’s mind raced. A swirling Yin-Yang symbol materialized behind him. With a swift movement, he reached out and summoned Kun Ji’s Whip, his most formidable weapon, infused with the power of the Tao.

As Kun Ji’s Whip appeared in his grasp, he lashed it through the air. The whip cracked and hissed as its outer skin peeled away, revealing glimpses of golden light within.

As the demonic shadow drew near, Kun Ji’s Whip struck true, tearing through the demon and spewing forth a torrent of black smoke. The monster howled in pain and turned back.

But Wang Lin struck again, and again, and again. Fearing the whip, the beast fled, its power failing.

As it retreated, the demon’s form warped and shrunk, transforming into a massive black palm.

“Wang Lin, beware! That can pierce any defense!” Ling Tianhou screamed.

The palm rushed toward Wang Lin. Wang Lin narrowed his eyes. He remembered his experience in the Rain Immortal Realm, and remembered his one-world power.

“I know this technique!” Wang Lin’s power exploded, his hand rising and striking the demon in a move that shook the cosmos.

His strike caused the black clouds to retreat in terror, as a gigantic palm appeared over Wang Lin, crushing the demon’s.

The demon howled as its technique failed, and its form shattered. As it retreated, its eye flew away, disappearing into the distance.

But Wang Lin’s attack did not stop. It obliterated all buildings in its path, and finally hit the core building of the eight level, a temple with ninety-nine lamps.

Wang Lin’s attack caused two lamps that were still lit to extinguish. Only one flickered.

Ling Tianhou stared in shock.