The departure of Wu Qing, an esteemed cultivator of immense power, did not go unnoticed. His reputation preceded him, not merely for his mastery of cultivation, but also for his station as an elder of the Demon Sect of the Sixth Starfield.

His absence sparked a ripple of concern amongst the elder masters, particularly those who suspected the true reason for his sudden departure. Within the main city of eastern Penglai, Cangsongzi sat in silent contemplation within the very chamber where the recent transaction had taken place. An jade scroll lay clutched in his hand, his face a mask of indecision.

“With such an abundance of Immortal Jade, success shall surely be mine upon my next venture!” He inhaled deeply, preparing to once more refine his plans, when suddenly he lifted his head. His eyes seemed to pierce the very walls of the chamber, seeing beyond into the world outside, beholding the streak of light that was Wu Qing fleeing into the distance.

“Wu Qing, despite his shattered Nirvana cultivation, is plagued by a greed that only grows with age. And though he considers himself cunning, he is in truth consumed by arrogance. I invited him to the gathering precisely because of the tales I heard of his conflicts with that Lu Zihao, hoping their animosity would erupt into open conflict. Now, he pursues Lu Zihao, whose doom seems certain. No matter, I owe the man a transaction. His Yuan Crystals shall not fall into the hands of another.” A sinister smile crept across Cangsongzi’s face as his divine sense, like a bolt of lightning, raced after Wu Qing, enveloping him in its scrutiny.

In a tavern on the southern fourth floor of the main city, sat a pair of cultivators. The man, clad in pristine white, was as fair as any jade tree. Across from him sat a captivating young woman, her vibrant attire accentuating her comely features.

They both looked up at the same moment. The woman sighed softly, shaking her head. “That young one’s cultivation is too shallow. To flaunt such a treasure, and thus invite his own demise, is a pity indeed.”

The white-clad scholar pondered for a moment, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. “I am not so certain. Though his cultivation is no match for Wu Qing, he dared to venture forth from the city, knowing full well that Wu Qing was near. He must possess some hidden advantage.”

“Oh? I dare not agree. The lad was likely overcome with fear and sought to flee prematurely, never suspecting that Wu Qing would disregard all decorum and give chase.” The woman chuckled lightly, turning her gaze toward the scholar. “The outcome remains to be seen,” the scholar replied with a knowing smile. Then, both of their divine senses unfurled, reaching out toward Wu Qing.

Upon the city’s cobbled streets, an old man with a pockmarked face ambled along, hands clasped behind his back. He gazed upon the rows of buildings, his face etched with nostalgia. “Were it not for Cangsongzi’s ardent invitation, I might never have set foot upon the Penglai Continent again…” he murmured to himself. Suddenly, he stilled, lifting his head to gaze into the distance, his eyes gleaming with interest.

“A shameful display of might over right, of the strong preying upon the weak! Heh heh!” The old man laughed, leaping onto the roof of a nearby house. There, he settled into a meditative pose, his divine sense spreading out, eager to witness the spectacle.

In a humble inn just outside the main city, a withered old man garbed in black stood by his window, two orbs circling within his grasp. He watched as the sky grew brighter, his divine sense already stretched out far beyond the city walls. “Wu Qing has stolen a march… Alas…”

Of all those who had participated in Cangsongzi’s gathering, save for the white-clad scholar, all believed that Wang Lin was surely doomed. Even the scholar harbored a suspicion, but in truth, knew that a Void Refinement cultivator stood little chance against one of the Shattered Nirvana stage.

Not only those within the city, but also other Shattered Nirvana cultivators in Penglai Market, their divine senses secretly trailed after Wu Qing, amongst them Tang Liqi. Tang Liqi opened his eyes, frowned, hesitated, and then sighed, but did not move to intervene. “Master warned me to never provoke that one. Wu Qing, oh Wu Qing, why must you…”

In the room next to Tang Liqi, a middle-aged man sat at his table, a cup of wine in his hand. He had just taken a sip when he abruptly looked up, his eyes gleaming with cold light as he stared into the distance. “Wu Qing, you are reckless!” After a moment’s pause, the man burst into motion, racing towards Wu Qing.

Yet others, cultivators of great power from various sects, had not initially spread their divine sense. But the sheer number of elder masters that were now doing so within Penglai Market alerted them, and they too began to observe the unfolding drama.

At this moment, Penglai Continent was seething with hidden undercurrents. All of this turmoil stemmed from Wu Qing’s departure. None could foresee the events that would unfold, events that would shock them all and forever etch a name into their memories. A name that would rise ever higher, ultimately becoming an existence they could only look up to. This battle on Penglai Continent would be the first battle where he would show the true height of his power.

Li Qianmei was not within the Penglai Market, instead sat upon the summit of a towering peak. The winds buffeted her, causing her dark hair to dance around her face. Her eyes shone with inner light as she gazed silently towards the west.

Wang Lin moved like lightning, fleeing east Penglai, as he headed towards the lands of West Mouyuan, a streak of light trailed in the sky behind him, and was catching up fast.

Moments later and moving with great speed they reached the boarder between East and West Penglai. This was a land of rugged stone plains that went on into the distance, a good place for killing.

This battle Wang Lin would need to not only win but win clean, win fair and most importantly win quick. Only in this way would he achieve his goal to have all in the lands of Penglai know not to antagonize him.

But if it was that simple that would not show what Wang Lin was truly made of. It was not enough to kill Wu Qing, but rather make the people of the demon sect scared, without chance of revenge, to live in fear and constant worry! In the past he might have worried about revenge, but after hearing about the 9th Starfield from Li Qianmei his worries have washed away.
Wang Lin’s feet halted abruptly. Slowly, deliberately, he turned, his gaze hardening on the figure now revealed by the dissipating gale behind him: Wu Qing. No trace of subtlety marred the killing intent blazing in Wu Qing’s eyes. Seeing Wang Lin no longer fled, the elder wasted no words, but raised his right hand and thrust it forward, a gesture of unleashed, unbridled power.

The cultivation of a nascent Nirvana cultivator surged forth, and in an instant, a colossal mountain materialized before him. With Wu Qing’s thrust, this earthen titan thundered towards Wang Lin, a rumbling avalanche of death. “Insolent whelp! Blame not this old man for his ruthlessness! You dared to wound a disciple of the Demon Concord, and must now prepare to face the consequences! Today, I shall shatter your flesh, and claim your rebellious spirit to fuel my alchemical arts!”

Wang Lin’s expression remained a mask of ice, his gaze fixed on the mountain hurtling toward him. When it loomed a mere half-zhang from his person, he raised his right hand and delivered a single, defiant punch. The impact resonated with a thunderous boom that shook the very heavens, his fist meeting the mountain head-on.

Cracking sounds, immense and terrifying, echoed across the landscape. The mountain crumbled, disintegrating into dust before Wang Lin. He retracted his hand, shaking his head with a dismissive air. “Too weak.”

Wu Qing reeled, his face contorting with shock. Without hesitation, he formed a complex hand seal. Two swirling vortexes, one of deepest black, the other pure white, manifested around his form, reaching toward the heavens like grasping claws. These spiraling winds clashed and merged, birthing a single vortex of churning grey.

“Drawing upon the Heavens!” Wu Qing roared, thrusting both hands forward. The grey vortex ballooned in size with impossible speed, drawing upon the very fabric of the surrounding tens of thousands of li of heaven and earth. It became a swirling tempest, blotting out the sun, descending upon Wang Lin like an inescapable doom.

Wu Qing’s heart hammered in his chest, the image of Wang Lin shattering his mountain with a single blow seared into his mind. He frantically reached for his spatial rift, ready to summon forth a precious artifact.

But in that heartbeat, Wang Lin’s eyes snapped open, unleashing a torrent of chilling light and palpable murder. The moment had arrived, the culmination of his patience! “Wu Qing! Your death is at hand!” Wang Lin’s voice, like a frigid wind, carried through the land, chilling Wu Qing to the very core.

In a single stride, Wang Lin moved forward, raising his right hand and unleashing a void-strike upon the air. The tens of thousands of li around them convulsed with chaotic energy. Simultaneously, Wang Lin’s left hand flickered, his fingers swiftly tapping upon the back of his right.

Suddenly, the ambient energy of the heavens and earth within a vast radius surged towards him, compelled by his will. This boundless force coalesced within Wang Lin’s fingertips, flooding into his right hand and transforming into an unimaginable, heaven-shattering power, released in a devastating blow aimed directly at the swirling vortex.

The two powers met with a cataclysmic detonation, the sound echoing across a significant portion of the Penglai Continent! Wang Lin’s left hand did not falter, but once more tapped the back of his right.

This second touch unleashed a wave of even greater force, drawing upon the power of ten times the former radius, a hundred thousand li, funneling into the storm of Wu Qing’s art.

But the onslaught continued. Wang Lin casually drew back his left hand, as if grasping the heavens themselves, and struck a third time!

This time, the very essence of the Penglai Continent seemed to boil, as the energy of the land itself, in a torrent of unimaginable scale, poured into Wang Lin’s right hand, creating a force of apocalyptic destruction, hurtling towards the vortex.

The vortex shuddered, groaned, and finally, with a deafening explosion, shattered into nothingness. A shockwave radiated outwards, scattering loose rocks and debris, pulverizing them into clouds of choking dust.

Even without the strength of his true form, Wang Lin could slay a novice Nirvana cultivator. Now, with his true form merged, his physical power was beyond reckoning, augmented by the blood of the Ancient Gods. His destructive potential had been unleashed.

With the three finger strikes complete, Wang Lin’s right hand swept forward, a surging tide of force aimed at Wu Qing. The elder’s eyes narrowed, his face frozen in terror as the specter of death enveloped him. He had no time for regret. His spatial rift erupted with a multitude of defensive artifacts, desperately deployed in an attempt to shield him.

But Wang Lin’s technique, learned from the sage Lu Fuzi, even lacking its truest essence, was imbued with the power of the ancients. Even immortals would show prudence before this art, and Wu Qing’s trinkets were no match.

A thunderous cacophony filled the sky as Wu Qing’s defenses crumbled before the onslaught. A dark palm print slammed into his chest, his robes shredded and scattered. He coughed up a mouthful of blood, his face ashen, his eyes wide with disbelief and terror. “You are no mere Nirvana cultivator!” he gasped.

“Wu Qing, farewell,” Wang Lin whispered, closing his eyes. Once more, he envisioned the colossal hand that had marked the Immortal World of Rain. That palm expanded in his mind, eclipsing all else! In the Immortal World of Rain, he had first grasped its essence, a stumbling, embryonic execution, aimed at the pride of heaven, Hong Die! Within the Realm of the Demons, he further refined it, unconsciously invoked, stunning the demon general Mo Li Hai!

Twice more, within the Realm of the Demons, the palm had risen, destroying the eighth level of the Immortal Emperor’s grotto-heaven, and filling the Immortal Vanguard, Ling Tianhou, with awe!

Amidst the shattered stones of the Alliance Star System, to halt the fleeing Zi Dao Sect cultivator, and save Qijian, he had unleashed the art, slaying living things, and annihilating the very heavens! It was in that moment that he understood the art’s true name.

**Spirit Devouring Seal!**

The art of the ninth order Divine Sect: **Spirit Devouring Seal!!**

Those moments flashed before him, a memory, the comprehension, the repeated use, weaving together, spiraling together, culminating in but one truth – the truth of the palm.

That palm was suffused with an awe-inspiring might, it had become a part of himself, an intention, a purpose.

He opened his eyes, brought forth his hand, and released the intention, unleashing a devouring palm strike.

With that strike, the very heavens and earth trembled. A thunderous rumble split the air, and the surrounding dust billowed outwards, pushed aside by an unseen force.

This single, all-encompassing force contained an intention of arrogant ambition, a palm unleashed with heaven and earth as its canvas, forming a colossal imprint, obscuring even the heavens themselves, and delivering a pressure to all beneath that was beyond description, crashing towards Wu Qing.

The palm was as large as the sky. Beneath its might, Wu Qing was as insignificant as an ant! The palm left a trail of destruction, its power shaking all who lay beneath it, as it descended to meet Wu Qing, shaking the hearts of all old monsters who perceived it, and leaving the continent in a state of shock and disarray.
“The…the Spirit Servitude Mark?! A Ninth Order Divine Sect Spirit Servitude Mark!” Wu Qing stood frozen, a despair unlike any he had ever known washing over him. Under the oppressive weight of the palm, even a Shattered Nirvana cultivator such as he felt the heavens collapsing, his very being poised for annihilation. Yet, more astonishing still was the legendary Spirit Servitude Mark, a technique unique to the Divine Sect, appearing before his very eyes. In his mind, this was not merely a mark, but the entire power of the Divine Sect itself!

A strangled cry escaped his lips as Wu Qing stumbled backward, his face drained of all color. Terror, like a lake flooding his senses, widened his pupils. He cared not for the grievous wounds to his spirit, nor the imminent collapse of his physical form. His sole thought was escape, a desperate flight for survival. But escape was impossible. In his eyes, the palm swelled, expanding until it filled his entire vision.

In a heartbeat, the palm slammed into Wu Qing. A thunderous roar echoed, shaking the very foundation of the land. Wu Qing’s flesh exploded in a crimson mist, his physical body utterly destroyed!

His fleeing spirit, not even given a moment to retreat, was instantly consumed by the passing palm, like a lone boat swallowed by a raging sea. Thus, Wu Qing, a first-generation elder of the Demon Congregation Dao and a cultivator of the Shattered Nirvana realm, met his end, extinguished. Until his final breath, he was consumed by fear, confusion, and a profound sense of regret.

In the instant of Wu Qing’s demise, Wang Lin stepped forth, arriving at the location where Wu Qing had opened his storage rift. From Wu Qing’s arrival to his death, all transpired in a fleeting moment. Though not instantaneous, the kill was clean and decisive.

Wu Qing’s storage rift, not yet fully closed, its master’s imprint severed by death, began to rapidly dissipate. But in that vanishing fraction of a second, Wang Lin thrust his right hand within, seizing all that resided within Wu Qing’s storage rift. It was a method he had conceived, a way to obtain the treasures of a Pure Nirvana cultivator! To slay an opponent the instant they opened their storage rift, allowing a fleeting opportunity to claim their possessions!

The palm, however, did not dissipate. With a renewed, frenzied surge, it hurtled forward, sweeping across the land with irresistible force. A cataclysmic rumble shook the ground, the very earth seeming to rise in waves, following the path of the roaring hand.

As the palm continued its relentless advance, the power of the heavens rushed in to feed it. The palm, already towering above the mountains, cleaved the sky itself. Clouds were ripped asunder, vanishing in its wake, revealing countless fissures in the celestial canvas. Thunderous booms echoed across the land, a deafening testament to the Spirit Servitude Mark’s resurgence.

Faster and faster it flew, consuming ever more of the heavens’ power. In mere moments, it had escaped Wang Lin’s control. The cultivator, resigned, withdrew his spiritual sense, allowing the palm to rage on.

The trembling of the ground intensified as the palm achieved an unimaginable velocity. Its sweeping pace rivaled that of a Shattered Nirvana cultivator, hurtling toward the floating, cone-shaped stone markets of the Eastern Reach of Penglai.

The sight was awe-inspiring, sending ripples of shock through every cultivator on Penglai. Seeing the immense hand rushing towards them like a tidal wave, they scattered from the markets in droves.

In the blink of an eye, the palm crashed down, striking a floating cone of stone. With a shudder, the massive rock crumbled, the city market upon it dissolving into dust, unable to impede the palm’s advance.

A thunderous symphony of destruction accompanied its passage. Over a dozen conical stones to the right of the market were shattered, the palm skimming the central city-stone. That massive rock shuddered, tilting slightly to the left under the impact.

The roar drowned out all other sounds as the palm tore through the Eastern Reach markets of Penglai, surging towards the open sky. It was as if someone was rebelling against the heavens, daring to challenge their might!

A single hand ascending to the sky! It pierced through Penglai’s countless layers of protection, thrusting into the starry void. In the void beyond, astral mists swirled into the palm, swelling its size and magnifying its power.

Not far from the Penglai Star, lay a wild and untamed continent, the exclusive preserve of the Jade Treasure Sect, forbidden to all outsiders. But the palm’s unyielding path led directly to this very land.

Moments later, the palm, now fueled by the boundless astral mists, had become a colossal hand of immeasurable size, like the hand of an ancient god, descending upon the barbarian continent. The roar was deafening!

Unimaginable tremors shook the starscape as the savage continent splintered apart, shattering into countless fragments. And then… the palm vanished.

Wang Lin’s spirit quaked. He had not anticipated such power from a palm unleashed from his control. A memory stirred, a faint understanding that perhaps the palm he had encountered in the Rain Realm had been born of a similar event.

Far away, the middle-aged cultivator of the Demon Congregation Dao stared in stunned disbelief, gasping for air. A tempest of fear raged within his heart. “This… this is the Spirit Servitude Mark?! Who… who is this man?” His face paled, and the very thought of avenging Wu Qing was utterly extinguished.

Across Penglai, cultivators were seized by terror. Especially the ancient monsters whose divine sense had witnessed the destruction in its entirety, they stood paralyzed, struck dumb with awe.

Azure Pine Zi’s eyes snapped open, crushing the jade slip in his hand. He stared blankly ahead, his spirit trembling slightly. His face was pale, and he licked his lips instinctively. “Who…who is he?”

In the tavern, the scholar in white robes and the beautiful young woman had fled as the palm swept through, leaving ruin in its wake. Half of Penglai’s market districts were gone, utterly destroyed.

The beautiful young woman was deathly pale, her pupils contracted. Her spirit trembled, rendering her speechless for a time. The cultivator she had previously referred to as a “small family boy” now filled her heart with disbelief and chilling dread. “He slew Wu Qing and wielded the Spirit Servitude Mark… This man… This man must never be provoked!”
Across from him, the scholar in white robes drew a sharp breath, yet a fierce light ignited in his eyes. Still, the shock within his spirit could not be entirely concealed by that brilliance.

Not far off, the pockmarked elder stood petrified, the events that had just unfolded still beyond his comprehension. “Unbelievable… he is one of the Divine Sect… This Spirit Branding is truly terrifying!”

The most relieved was the gaunt old man in black. The two orbs in his hand had ceased their spinning. His face was ashen, cold sweat beading on his brow as he inhaled deeply. “Fortunate that Wu Qing struck first! Otherwise, I would surely have perished this day! To dare provoke a member of the Divine Sect… the Demon Congregation Dao is doomed!”

Even the old crone in green, who had sold Wang Lin the star chart, watched with narrowed eyes, her brow furrowed. She suppressed her inner turmoil, gazing at the ruins of the marketplace where the palm imprint had landed, lost in thought.

Most terrified of all was Tang Lihai, his lips parched, his heart pounding in his chest. Should he face Wang Lin again, he would find no trace of his former composure. Anyone capable of slaying a Void Shattering cultivator so swiftly would inspire fear and anxiety in any other of that realm.

Aside from them, the various sect disciples and mighty old demons who had come to Penglai Continent, especially those who had witnessed the events with their divine sense, turned their gazes westward, their expressions a mix of awe and trepidation.

Wang Lin remained composed, dusting the dust from his robes as he strode forward. A short distance ahead, the middle-aged man who had hidden his presence within the inn stood, his face drained of color. “You… you are late,” Wang Lin said, his voice even.