Astride the ages, the ancient god Tu Si, in his boundless ambition, sought to distill the very essence of existence into a weapon. This, then, was the God-forged Trident, a relic of immeasurable power, capable of devouring all creation as its own. Tu Si, upon its creation, deemed it a masterpiece, yet it lacked a soul to bind its power. Thus, he cast it upon a nameless world, shaping its mountains with the trident’s form, hoping the slow march of time would birth a consciousness within. Should his Soul-Severing Art have succeeded, this trident would have served as a vessel for his divided self, a weapon to rival even the dreaded God-Slayer Spear! Alas, Tu Si’s art failed, and the trident was lost to the swirling currents of time.

Tian Yunzi, by happenstance, stumbled upon the trident. While he could wield its raw power, the trident’s true Devouring Might remained dormant, locked away, accessible only to the touch of a true god.

Wang Lin, though lesser in cultivation than Tian Yunzi, was indeed a god. Having weathered the Trials of Loss and Tribulation, his very blood, bone, and marrow were reforged, making him a scion of the Wu Zheng god-clan. In his hands, the Trident awoke, its Devouring Might unleashed!

From the trident’s prongs erupted three Dragons of Midnight, each a manifestation of the Devouring Power. Even the Edicts of Life and Death were consumed, now woven into the trident’s very essence. With a deafening roar, the Midnight Dragons plunged towards the Void-Piercing Crystal Sword.

This Crystal Sword, a treasure amongst treasures in Cang Songzi’s arsenal, was drawn forth with a singular purpose: the swift annihilation of Wang Lin. The blade whistled through the air, unleashing a tempestuous surge of primal energy that threatened to cleave the very heavens asunder.

The Midnight Dragons hurtled towards the Crystal Sword, and with a thunderous roar, the three opened their maws, consuming the blade whole.

A shudder ran through the Dragons. A tremor shook one, yet, with a defiant roar, it held fast, refusing to crumble. The three Dragons rejoined Wang Lin, reforming into the trident. Faint crystalline light flickered upon its shaft, the echo of the consumed blade slowly imprinting itself upon the god-forged weapon.

Cang Songzi’s visage twisted in dismay. He lunged forward, his fingers weaving arcane gestures. Light erupted before him, birthing a legion of spectral swords that filled the heavens, aimed at Wang Lin’s heart.

He delved into the folds of his storage, producing three orbs. Casting them forth, he intoned, “Awake, Spirits of Retribution!” The iridescent light of the Celestial Realm coalesced, pouring into the orbs. With explosive force, one shattered.

From the shattered orb, a shadowy figure materialized, its features indistinct, yet radiating a palpable aura of swordsmanship. The spectral form raised a hand, and the Celestial light swirled, condensing into a blade capable of rending the very fabric of existence, and struck towards Wang Lin.

Then the next orb splintered, and the earth trembled. A mountain, like a titan slumbering on the horizon, shuddered and fragmented. From within strode a golem of stone, a hundred feet tall. Shrouded in celestial light, the stone behemoth lumbered toward Wang Lin, the earth quaking with each step.

Finally, the third orb burst. The Celestial light coalesced in the heavens, forming a colossal wheel. The wheel spun wildly, radiating a force that seemed to quell even the cosmos.

Each action was a killing blow. Cang Songzi, heedless of the cost of the orbs, sought Wang Lin’s swift demise. He plunged his fingers into his brow, his face flooded crimson. From his brow, a crimson beam shot forth, bearing a being like a nascent soul, the same that had attacked the elder in green.

The Soul-Spawn shrieked, its face a mask of fury. It hurtled toward Wang Lin, a crimson aura wreathing it.

All unfolded in a heartbeat. No sooner had the trident returned to Wang Lin’s hand than Cang Songzi unleashed his full fury. His cultivation, reaching the peak of the Broken Nirvana, infused his spells and artifacts with terrifying might.

Wang Lin remained serene, his eyes ablaze with battle-lust. Gripping the Trident, he hurled it toward the colossal wheel in the sky, for it, he sensed, was the greatest threat.

With a gesture, he commanded the Celestial Light to yield before a storm of obsidian. The darkness blotted out the sky, filled with savage roars. The Call of the Winds manifested, and a sinuous dragon, the offspring of storm, coalesced and plunged towards the spectral swordsman.

Then came the Call of the Rains. With a flourish, Wang Lin conjured droplets of pure light within a radius of thousands of feet. These fell with impossible speed, a storm of light obliterating the incoming swords. A portion of the rain coalesced into ice, binding the stone behemoth in a glacial tomb.

With a thunderous sound, Wang Lin strode forward, his fist meeting the celestial blade head-on.

The world shuddered. The celestial blade fractured, its colors shattering, yet a single blue beam pierced through, embedding itself within Wang Lin’s fist.

Wang Lin recoiled, a surge of madness flooding his body. He coughed, weaving signs with his left hand, casting forth light before him in the shape of the Seal of Immortality. It spun, releasing an army of spectral warriors, all of the fallen: Void Wanderer, Tian Yunzi, Wu Qing, emerged, hungry for battle. These spectres lunged at the incoming Soul-Spawn.

Behind them, a storm of shades surged from the Seal: immortals, warriors of the Luo Tian and Alliance Star Domains, and countless other phantoms. An oppressive aura of war filled the air.

Cang Songzi sucked in a breath. Though he had anticipated Wang Lin’s strength, he was still not ready for the might of his powers.

The trident reached the wheel, but the wheel was ready to defend. It unleashed lighting across the face of the trident.

Even as the trident pushed forward, the dragons continued to devour the electrical energy.
The ethereal figure, poised in the sky, crumbled under the onslaught of the black dragon, a creature born of summoned winds, until nothing remained.

Further off, the colossal stone golem that marched forward was met by a torrent of rain, each drop conjured by arcane rites. A prison of ice swiftly enveloped him, transforming the giant into a frozen statue long before he could strike.

The crimson, infant-like entity, a nascent soul perhaps, shrieked amidst the swirling war-spirits of ancient elders. Bound by their spectral chains, it writhed in vain. Yet, Wang Lin’s gaze was drawn to the spirit of Tian Yunzi. Upon its arrival, a profound bewilderment clouded its eyes. Unaffected by the spell of scattered soldiers, it did not attack, but instead stared blankly into the heavens.

Ignoring the errant spirit, Wang Lin surged ahead. With a mighty gesture, his hand seized the very fabric of the storm. Lightning crackled and converged, as if he had captured the heavens’ fury.

From this swirling chaos of raw energy, a spectral spear materialized, the phantom of the God-Slayer Lance. With a savage thrust, he hurled the weapon, a bolt of pure annihilation that tore through all that stood before it, aiming true for the colossal compass that hung in the sky.

Without pause, Wang Lin pressed onward, his right hand descending with the force of a collapsing mountain. A gale of power ripped through the air, and his left hand, fingers joined, pressed upon the back of his right.

The boundless energy of the Seven-Colored Realm Worm surged forth, infusing his hand. Before him materialized a colossal handprint, a projection of his power, aimed squarely at the descending figure of Cang Songzi.

Madness blazed in Cang Songzi’s bloodshot eyes. He bit his tongue, spitting forth a crimson spray, and with a wild flourish of his right hand, his face contorted in a grotesque grimace. Seven nascent souls flickered into existence above his head, each howling in desperate agony. Before him, an emblem of lightning crackled into being.

As the lightning mark coalesced, darkness descended, swallowing the light itself. “With a hundred generations of blood, I summon forth the infant, I call upon the Spirit of the Seventh Seal!” Cang Songzi roared. The lightning emblem pulsed with blinding light, and as Wang Lin’s hand slammed down, it collided with the mark.

The world shook with the impact, and the handprint shattered. From within its ruins, a single bolt of lightning emerged, lancing towards Wang Lin with impossible speed. There was no time to evade; the bolt struck his chest with earth-shattering force.

Wang Lin staggered, his body convulsing. For the first time, ancient god-blood trickled from his lips, yet his eyes burned with a furious, unyielding light.

With another wrenching gesture, he summoned a simple iron sword. It circled his palm, as if seeking its prey, then streaked downwards, towards Cang Songzi.

The old mage thrust his hand into the depths of his dimensional pouch. He drew forth a spike radiating with seven colors, identical to those that pinned the scripture-covered skeleton within the Forbidden Veil!

“Die, old fool!” Cang Songzi screamed, his hand snapping forward. The iridescent spike hurtled towards the iron sword, carrying a force that defied comprehension, surpassing even the power of a Nirvana Shatterer treasure!

In an instant, the spike met the sword with a sickening crack. The iron blade split asunder, cleaved in two by the spike, which continued its trajectory and impaled itself into Wang Lin’s right shoulder!

A searing agony washed over him, and his body shuddered uncontrollably. Even as the sword shattered, the broken tip, still imbued with his will, plunged through Cang Songzi’s chest, erupting from his back and embedding itself in the earth.

Coughing blood, Cang Songzi turned and fled, transforming into a streak of light that vanished towards the mountainous wall. Wang Lin’s body spasmed as the seven-colored spike, seemingly designed to bind the very soul, drove deeper into his shoulder. His vision blurred, his form began to shrink, threatening to return him to mortal size.

Gritting his teeth, his gaze locked onto the retreating form of Cang Songzi, he raised his left hand. The image of the Soulflag Seal bloomed in his mind, and he slammed his palm forward.

The Soulflag Seal materialized, a celestial handprint of immense proportions. With a deafening roar, it crashed down upon Cang Songzi. Yet, at the last moment, the mage unleashed some unknown art. His physical form shattered into a cloud of iridescent mist. Defying the crushing force of the Seal, his soul was swept away on the colored winds, vanishing beyond the mountains.

Wang Lin coughed up blood, his body reverting to its normal size. He gathered his remaining strength, ignoring the wards that held the Qing Shan elder captive. With a burst of speed, he fled, a trail of blood marking his escape. His face was ashen. The battle with Cang Songzi had left them both broken. Above, the colossal compass slowly shifted, its inexorable pursuit fixed upon Wang Lin.

(The following section about real-world threats is not suitable for this context and has been omitted.)