A peal of maniacal laughter shattered the heavens. Upon the back of the colossal spirit beast, besides the wizened elder, stood a youth clad in violet silks. His mirth, echoing across the land, dripped with arrogant glee.

“From this day forth,” he boomed, “the Guiyuan Sect belongs to me, the Young Lord of the Violet Dawn!”

The earth trembled as the massive, obsidian beast fully entered the Moruo Continent. Atop its head, the old man gazed upon the youth with indulgent fondness, a smile creasing his weathered face.

Urged onward by the young lord’s laughter, the black spirit beast surged forward with unimaginable speed, a black arrow aimed at the Guiyuan Sect nestled in the eastern reaches of the Moruo Continent.

“Hear ye, hear ye! The Young Lord of the Violet Dawn arrives! Guiyuan Sect, come forth and pay homage!” The aged, chilling voice, amplified by the beast’s advance, rippled across the continent, reaching even the ears of the sole cultivation sect within: the Guiyuan Sect. The old man knew his young charge reveled in brazen displays. Normally, he would never condone such behavior, but with the Guiyuan Sect’s fate held firmly within his grasp, he indulged the young lord’s whimsical arrogance. With a flourish of his withered hand, the elder conjured a tempest of violet winds, sweeping across the very sky.

Every raindrop recoiled in its path, the torrent halted in its tracks. Even the jagged teeth of lightning momentarily faltered. Where the violet gale touched, bolts of energy shattered, scattering into arcs of blinding light, blooming like ephemeral, electric flowers.

Within the hallowed halls of the Guiyuan Sect, every disciple awoke from their meditative slumber, their faces drained of color. A crushing pressure emanated from the west, threatening to obliterate them all.

Upon the peak of the Eastern Garden Mountains, one of the four esteemed elders, a man in the prime of his years, wore an expression of bitter resignation. He had closed his eyes, but now they snapped open, his form transforming into a streak of light hurtling westward.

“Our Master has only just passed from this world, and already the Violet Dawn presumes so much!” he cried. “I have endured enough! Henceforth, I, Li Xiangdong, shall embrace defiance! Even in death, I shall stand tall!”

From the Northwest Peaks came a sigh, and two aged figures emerged, their faces etched with worry. With a grim exchange of glances, they too shot westward. The very survival of the Guiyuan Sect hung in the balance. They could no longer remain idle.

But what could they do? The might of the Violet Dawn was such that they dared not harm even the Young Lord. And that aged voice… the profound cultivation it hinted at sent tremors through the hearts of every member of the Guiyuan Sect.

“Song Wude… once a defeated dog at our Master’s feet. Now, with our Master gone to the Netherworld, he comes himself,” a voice lamented. “Is the Guiyuan Sect truly doomed? Are we to be annihilated?” From the vermillion pavilion atop the Southern Artisan’s Peak, Lu Yanfei, clad in robes the color of blood, emerged. Her beautiful face, normally radiant, was now strained with sorrow and grim determination. Without hesitation, she transformed into a crimson blur, streaking westward.

“Lu Po, I, Lu Yanfei, would sooner die than yield to you!” she vowed. As she flew, tears streamed down her face, mingling with the rain and blurring the line between sorrow and the storm itself.

Trailing behind the four elders came their direct disciples, each bearing expressions of trepidation, resolve, and fury as they rushed to the west.

Among them was Sun Yun. Her eyes burned with a silent vow of sacrifice, yet as she flew against the wind and rain, two figures inexplicably surfaced in her mind.

One, a gaunt, unassuming man with dark hair and an unnervingly placid demeanor. The other, a figure of ethereal beauty with white hair and robes, whose single gesture could shatter the very heavens. The two images swirled within her, merging into one.

Wang Lin stood within the suspended Daoist temple, watching the streaks of light fade into the distance. He shook his head, calmly calculating his potential escape routes should the Guiyuan Sect fall.

Finally, he frowned. “How tiresome,” he muttered. With a flick of his sleeve, he stepped forward, ripples spreading beneath his feet as he vanished from the temple.

The violet-eyed serpent, still mostly hidden within the dimensional rift, had been whimpering since Wang Lin’s arrival, its heart pounding with terror. Now, it dared to emerge, unleashing a series of furious roars towards the place where Wang Lin had disappeared. It was as if it knew the man was gone and would not return for some time, and only then could it release its pent-up fear and rage.

The darkness of Moruo Continent’s night was receding, and the horizon faintly illuminated. In the west, the violet winds howled, pushing the massive form of the black spirit beast towards the east with relentless speed. Atop it, the old man remained aloof, his face an impassive mask. He had absolute confidence in his ability to crush the Guiyuan Sect.

Beside him, the youth in violet practically vibrated with lustful anticipation.

“Uncle Song,” he said, licking his lips, “ensure that Lu Yanfei is merely crippled, not killed. I wish to enjoy her for a few days, to drain her yin essence before she meets her end.”

The elder nodded, about to reply when his expression suddenly shifted. His gaze hardened as he stared directly ahead.

Before them, the air shimmered, and a wave of overwhelming celestial power spread outwards. From within the rippling space, a white-haired man slowly materialized.

His face was an icy mask, and the air around him crackled with an aura of bone-chilling malice. The black spirit beast faltered, its pace immediately slowing. The elder, initially surprised, was now on alert. The young lord, frowning in irritation, prepared to chastise the newcomer, but the elder swiftly placed himself between the youth and Wang Lin, his eyes narrowed and voice grave as he said, “I am Song Wude of the Violet Dawn Sect. Might I request that you grant us passage?”

The young lord stared blankly, examining Wang Lin with renewed interest.

“Grant you passage?” Wang Lin’s voice was like a frigid gale, biting through the elder’s very soul. “Leave this place at once, and never return.”

The elder’s face darkened. While his cultivation might not match that of the Guiyuan Sect’s former patriarch, he had still achieved the mid-stage of the Purification of Nirvana realm. Yet he could not fully discern the depth of the man before him, hence his initial politeness. But to be met with such arrogant insolence…
“Such brazen words!” a voice boomed, “Even the Old Ancestor of the Gui Yuan Sect trembles before the might of my Zi Dao Sect!”

The elder, a wizened figure draped in violet robes, was about to interject when the violet-clad youth behind him erupted in a mocking laugh.

Wang Lin remained silent, his eyes glinting with a chilling light. He took a single step forward, and from his very being erupted a tempest of pure, unadulterated slaughter. This essence coalesced in the heavens above, a palpable wave of malice that choked the air.

Slaughter reigned supreme! The potent miasma of death carried a frigid bite that caused the very raindrops to crystallize, a symphony of cracking ice echoing through the air.

The massive, hundred-foot-long black spirit beast shuddered violently. Its highly developed instincts screamed of the imminent doom radiating from the swirling chaos, and without waiting for the violet-clad youth’s command, it bolted backwards in terror.

The violet-clad youth’s face paled, but he managed to stammer a defiant, “You…”

His words were cut short as the elder lashed out, a palm strike sending the youth sprawling onto the back of the retreating black beast. With a flick of his wide sleeves, he conjured a gust of wind to propel the creature and its rider into a frenzied retreat.

“Flee! I will dispatch this rogue and rejoin you!” the elder roared, his face etched with grim determination. He charged towards Wang Lin, a desperate gamble born of necessity.

Rarely had the violet-clad youth witnessed such anxiety in the elder’s demeanor. Fear gripped him, and he clung to the back of the black beast as it fled.

Wang Lin flicked his wrist, and the overwhelming aura of slaughter that surrounded him intensified. With ear-splitting shrieks, it surged forth from all directions, a tide of death hurtling towards the approaching elder.

The elder’s eyes narrowed, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks. He formed arcane hand seals, summoning a whirlwind of violet energy that expanded outwards, colliding with the encroaching slaughter in a deafening explosion that reverberated through the landscape.

“Rainfall!” Wang Lin commanded, raising his left hand towards the heavens. In an instant, the endless rain within a radius of a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand feet, all centered around him, faltered. As Wang Lin’s finger plunged downwards, every droplet trembled, seized by an unseen force and driven towards the elder in a torrential, furious assault.

The elder’s mind reeled, his thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm. He had never encountered such magic, such impossible power as these two skills unleashed by the white-haired cultivator before him. Yet, their strength was undeniable. He gasped, preparing to evade, but Wang Lin’s gaze, cold as the void between stars, silenced him with a single, softly spoken word.

“Freeze!”

The elder shuddered, his body seized and held captive in mid-air. In that fleeting moment, an infinite swarm of ice crystals descended, swirling around him, encasing him within a colossal prison of ice.

Wang Lin did not pause. He reached out, his hand vanishing into a tear in the fabric of space. From this rift emerged a rusted iron sword, and as Wang Lin’s body flowed after it, he swung the blade in a single, devastating arc.

The world was still bathed in the dim light of dawn, but as the sword fell, the heavens themselves were cleaved asunder. A blinding beam of light erupted, consuming the landscape in its radiant embrace.

With a thunderous roar, the massive ice prison shattered, revealing a crimson scene within. The elder’s eyes, wide with disbelief and terror, witnessed his own form torn asunder, his very soul shattered into fragments of raw energy that dissipated into the air.

It was over in mere heartbeats. Instant death!

The elder, even in his final moments, could not comprehend his annihilation. He died unaware of the unique and terrifying power held by Wang Lin. His death was no accident. Either the slaughtering aura, or the art of rainfall, were enough to cause havoc throughout the realm. Add in a strike from the rusting sword and even one of the Net涅後期, the last of three stages of Nirvana, would be skinned if they had any chance of living!

Wang Lin’s experience and knowledge helped add to the instant kill of Song Wude, his death was well deserved!

Having annihilated Song Wude, Wang Lin turned his gaze to the retreating black beast and its terrified rider, who had witnessed the entirety of the battle.

His eyes locked onto the violet-clad youth, and with a single stride, Wang Lin moved forward.

Behind him, trails of light streaked through the sky, the arriving of the Gui Yuan Sect Elders, drawn by the violet-clad youth’s desperate, fear-stricken cries. Their voices echoed in the mind of Lu Yanfei as well.

As if answering her heart, the skies began to clear, the rain dissipated, and a faint rainbow arched across the horizon in the light of the rising sun. The white-haired figure in the rainbow, chasing after the black beast, was permanently seared into Lu Yanfei’s memory.