A crimson shard, a fragment of a blade, materialized with a roar that unleashed a tide of unbridled slaughter. The baleful aura, so dense it defied containment, surged forth to blanket the very star upon which it appeared, before spilling out into the cosmic void. Even the celestial fires that burned in the star’s orbit faltered, momentarily cowed by the sword’s malignant presence, scattering before it like frightened wraiths.

This broken sword was the condensed essence of a grey-robed Celestial’s life of unending carnage. After the battle in the Demon Spirit Land, it had been left within Wang Lin. For three long years, as he healed and honed his skills, he had slowly sought to master it, reclaiming the slivers that had initially dispersed and integrated into his primordial spirit. Now, only the broken blade remained, nestled within his form.

“These past years of practice have illuminated its nature,” Wang Lin mused. “Once I fully absorb it, further cultivation of the Slaughter Immortal Arts will be assured, without the peril of a millionfold slaughter-qi self-destruction.”

He could never truly forget the nature of slaughter-qi, having dedicated years to mastering the Slaughter Immortal Arts, reaching heights that few dared to approach. It was through the insights gleaned from the Ancient Demon Bello that he’d come to understand the arts’ inherent dangers. To continue down that path would mean the collapse of his very being, his essence consumed and transformed into a weapon for the grey-robed Celestial.

Though he had been forced to abandon the arts, a pang of regret had always lingered in his heart, a regret that now dissolved as he gazed upon the crimson shard hovering before him. A flicker of fire sparked in his right eye, and instantly, a sea of flames bloomed into existence, engulfing the broken blade in its searing embrace.

Without hesitation, Wang Lin formed a hand seal and touched his brow. From that point emerged his Ancient Thunder Dragon primordial spirit, exhaling a breath of spirit-essence upon the fire-wreathed sword. Within the Thunder Dragon’s spirit, Wang Lin’s second spirit, forged through the Nine Transformations, snapped open its eyes, mirroring the Thunder Dragon’s actions with a breath of its own.

Thus, lightning intertwined with fire, and the essence of both spirits converged, igniting the flames surrounding the broken sword, causing them to explode outwards, as if doused with the most volatile of oils. Rumbles of thunder echoed through the air. Gradually, the crimson edges of the blade began to melt, yet with each droplet that succumbed, a frigid wave of slaughter-qi surged forth to challenge the flames.

This was a familiar struggle to Wang Lin, an occurrence he had encountered with each attempt to tame the sword. But today, time was a luxury he could not afford. He must achieve complete mastery, forging the blade into his own sword of slaughter, and thus resume his cultivation of the powerful, versatile Slaughter Immortal Arts. Before the success of his Nine Transformations, he had lacked the confidence to succeed. Now, however, he could claim a seventy percent chance!

Tearing his gaze away from the blazing shard, Wang Lin drew a deep breath. His hands weaved through a complex sequence of seals, and the fire in his right eye intensified, threatening to illuminate the heavens themselves. As he raised his right hand towards the sky, his second spirit mimicked the gesture. In that instant, a wave of unimaginable fire elemental force erupted from the second spirit within Wang Lin, channeling through his raised arm to become a fiery tide that crashed against the celestial vault.

“Flame Condensation!” Wang Lin intoned in a low voice. As the words left his lips, every trace of fire elemental power upon the cultivation star shuddered to life, converging upon Wang Lin. Not only on the star itself, but even in the burning expanse beyond, the power stirred. With the influx of elemental force, Wang Lin lowered his hand and pointed towards the broken blade. Instantly, the condensed energy shot towards the shard, accelerating its melting tenfold. Yet in equal measure, the blade’s slaughter-qi intensified, battling the encroaching fire.

Wang Lin scrutinized the shard for a long moment, his right eye flickering. The second spirit within his Ancient Thunder Dragon spirit pulsed, then burst forth, piercing through its elder and transforming into a crimson streak that plunged towards the broken blade. Without a moment’s hesitation, Wang Lin wove hand seals and spat forth an artifact: the Eighteen Hells Sealing Immortal Stamp!

“Scatter Beans to Form Soldiers! Void Spirit, Celestial! Arise!” Wang Lin commanded, sweeping his right hand forward. Instantly, a shimmering light encircled the Seal, and the beams began to coalesce, forming two spectral figures! They were none other than the Void Spirit and the Celestial formed from merged duplicates!

The two trapped souls, barely materialized, flung themselves towards the broken blade, encircling Wang Lin’s second spirit, lending their strength to the arduous task of mastery! Simultaneously, Wang Lin raised his left hand and pressed it against the volcano at his side. Immediately, a rumble echoed from the depths, and the black smoke billowing from the crater thickened. A wave of heat crashed forth.

Within this thermal wave, molten rock spewed forth, but at Wang Lin’s direction, the magma flowed like water, encircling the sword, forming a titanic sphere of molten rock, more than thirty feet across. Thus encased, the temperatures within soared. This time, Wang Lin was leaving nothing to chance. He was determined to fully integrate the grey-robed Celestial’s sword of slaughter. His second spirit, the Void Spirit, the duplicate Celestial, the power of the very heavens and earth… and finally, the crucible of molten rock. All were brought to bear, sealing the blade and hastening its refinement.

Within the massive sphere, Wang Lin manipulated the elemental power, and the seconds ticked into hours. After thirteen hours the intensity of refinement strained Wang Lin’s endurance, consuming not only his own primordial force, but also the celestial power he had amassed by devouring dozens of Immortal spirits over the past three years.

But when the twelfth hour passed, his eyes blazed with a sudden clarity. With a sharp cry, he flung his arms outwards. A shattering boom echoed as the sphere of rock disintegrated, scattering flaming shards in all directions. The broken blade, bereft of its protective shell, could no longer resist the unbridled power of the flames. It completely melted, and Wang Lin’s second spirit devoured it, retreating into Wang Lin’s body.

The souls of the Void Spirit and Celestial returned to the Sealing Immortal Stamp. Wang Lin sat in meditative silence for a time. Gradually, a crimson blade coalesced around his second spirit, exuding waves of slaughter-qi. At Wang Lin’s command, that killing intent would burst forth.

“Alas, taming this sword has depleted much of its slaughter-qi,” he lamented. “It now holds less than a million. I must continue to cultivate and replenish it.” Wang Lin opened his eyes, exhaled a deep breath, and tapped his storage bag. A beam of dark light shot forth, transforming into a weathered trident before him.

He gazed upon the trident, but his expression flickered, and his eyes rose to the heavens. Instantly, a shadow of guilt and sorrow passed over his features. “This matter… I must finally offer him an accounting.” With a sigh, Wang Lin stored away the trident and vanished.

Not far from Wang Lin’s cultivation star lay a world belonging to the Vermillion Bird Holy Sect. It was also a primary star, dominated by mountains, all bathed in a fiery red, making for a magnificent sight. On the peak of the tallest of these mountains, a woman knelt. She was beautiful, but her expression was one of profound sorrow, kneeling motionless.

Before her stood a black statue depicting Wang Lin. Behind the statue was the entrance to a cave in the mountain’s peak, shrouded in darkness. Beside the statue, a young man in black robes sat cross-legged, his expression cold. He did not glance at the woman, but simply meditated.

“Please, let me go inside,” the woman pleaded, tears welling in her eyes, as she gazed at the black-robed man.

“It is forbidden!” the young man replied coldly, opening his eyes.

The woman trembled, on the verge of speaking. But at that moment, a sigh echoed from the heavens. The air above the mountain rippled, and Wang Lin stepped forth. The moment he appeared, the black-robed youth’s face lit up with excitement and fervent devotion. He immediately rose and bowed, saying reverently, “Thirteen greets Master!”

Upon seeing Wang Lin, the woman’s expression grew even more sorrowful, but she remained silent.

“Ling’er, take me to see your great-grandfather,” Wang Lin said gently to the woman, offering a slight nod to Thirteen.

“Great-grandfather… he is failing,” Ling’er replied, tears streaming down her face.

Guilt etched itself deeper into Wang Lin’s features. With a wave of his sleeve, he enveloped Ling’er and vanished from the peak. After his departure, two points of light flickered in the depths of the cave.

Wang Lin’s true form opened his eyes, his own gaze haunted by remorse. On his shoulder, the Star Beast lay docile, licking his neck affectionately. Unseen by any, everything below Wang Lin’s waist was now bare bones exuding a ghostly aura.

In a city of the Vermillion Bird Holy Sect, an elderly man with snow-white hair and a deeply lined face sat drinking wine, his expression bordering on madness.

“Second Brother, Third Brother, I am so sorry,” he mumbled, taking a long pull from the bottle, allowing the wine to spill from the corners of his mouth, mingling with the tears in his eyes. He drank wine laced with tears, and the bittersweet liquid tasted like grief.

Behind him, Wang Lin and Ling’er emerged from a ripple in space. Ling’er’s tears flowed faster as she saw the old man’s state. She reached out to take the bottle, but Wang Lin stopped her. With a sigh, Wang Lin approached the old man and sat beside him on the city wall, casually reaching for a bottle and taking a long draught.

Meanwhile, in the central region of the Cultivation Alliance’s star system, a swarm of dozens of ravenous beasts resembling mosquitos flew by. Their eyes glowed with crimson light, and a faint scent drifted from them, so subtle it was detectable only to their kind. The mosquitos were drawn by the fragrance, following it like puppets on a string.

Ahead of them flew three young men in yellow robes, each holding a strange incense stick. “I can’t believe there are Mosquito Kings in the alliance star system!” One of them said hungrily. “When we join the elder, taking these mosquito kings is a major contribution for the three of us”

His accent was strangely different from the one alliance star system cultivator used. It seemed to be from outside of the Alliance System.