The city sprawled, a behemoth of brick and cobblestone, teeming with a populace thick as summer flies. The western district, in particular, pulsed with a life that dwarfed the other quarters. As Wang Lin traversed its winding streets, his senses absorbed the unique nature of this mortal realm. Unlike the familiar currency of silver on the Crimson Sparrow Star, here, a different commodity held sway.

It was called Alum Crystal, a substance valued by the common folk in proportion to its size. Though possessing no worth to cultivators, its brilliant sparkle and scarce quantity made it a suitable medium of exchange. For one of Wang Lin’s power, acquiring a fortune in Alum Crystal would be a trivial matter.

Within the city’s confines, he dispatched a tendril of his divine sense, weaving it unseen through the earth. It swiftly located a vein of the coveted crystal, hidden deep beneath the city’s foundations. With a mere circumambulation, he transmuted a portion of the vein, reclaiming his spiritual extension with a vast store of Alum Crystal now nestled within his storage space.

Sauntering through the city’s maze, Wang Lin eschewed the use of his mystical abilities. He gravitated towards the western district, where a seemingly endless sprawl of humble dwellings pressed against each other. The streets were worn, the houses looked like they had not been repaired in a very long time, and the appearance was dirty.

A singular detail stood out: beneath the eaves of almost every house, hung strings of dried leaves, a peculiar custom of this locale. The townsfolk too, dressed in simple garments, hurried about their business.

Wang Lin’s arrival drew little attention. With relative ease, he located a few available dwellings and acquired one situated in a densely populated area. The house stood midway down a quiet lane, shadowed by a grand old tree. Beneath its boughs, a noodle stall plied its trade, offering simple fare and cheap rice wine. The poor, unable to afford the luxuries of the wine merchants, frequented the stall to sate their hunger and quench their thirst.

Dusk approached, casting long shadows across the street. It was the hour of supper, and the neighborhood buzzed with activity. Neighbors gathered, their laughter echoing through the air, while children chased each other, pelting each other with dirt clods.

Wang Lin, seated at the doorway of his new abode, observed the scene with a gentle smile. Since purchasing the house, he had received numerous visits from curious neighbors. To these simple folk, he presented himself as a scholar come to the city to study for the imperial examinations. Unable to afford an inn, he had rented the humble dwelling until the tests next year.

As darkness deepened, wisps of smoke curled from hearths, and the townsfolk, weary from the day’s labor, retreated to their homes. A stillness slowly descended upon the neighborhood.

The moon, a sliver in the inky sky, cast a faint glow. The old man who ran the noodle stall, his back stooped with age, watched his two young assistants clear away the remnants of the day’s trade. He puffed on his pipe, then glanced at Wang Lin, who stood gazing at the heavens. With a chuckle, the old man seized a flagon of rice wine and shuffled towards him.

“Young scholar,” he rasped, “the night air carries a biting chill. Take this flagon, warm yourself with a draught before your studies. When you rise to prominence, you can repay me for the wine.” The old man tossed the flagon to Wang Lin, then turned and led his apprentices away.

Wang Lin hefted the flagon, estimating its contents at half full. A tranquil warmth settled in his heart as he watched the old man depart. He smiled as he looked in his direction, feeling the difference with the harsh cultivating world.

The moon climbed higher, and a cold wind swept through the streets, causing the strings of leaves hanging from the eaves to rustle and dance.

The wind carried a raw bite, intensified by the moonlight, sending small stones skittering across the road and stirring up dust that veiled everything in a hazy mist.

In the deepening night, lamps flickered to life in the houses, casting a warm, inviting glow that transformed the scene into something magical. Wang Lin took one last look around before disappearing into the doorway of his house.

The interior of the house was simple but clean. As he closed the door, the howling wind seemed to be shut out, reduced to a faint echo.

He lit a lamp and its flickering flame cast a warm glow across the small house, chasing away the darkness into the corners.

“Even my heart feels soothed here…” Wang Lin murmured, placing the flagon beside the lamp. He sat cross-legged, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

At that instant, his divine consciousness stirred, unleashing a torrent of potent spiritual energy. The surge collided within him like a tempest, yet nothing of it was perceptible to the outside world. Wang Lin remained serene, only the candle’s flame wavering gently.

And the image cast by Wang Lin’s shadow wavered with it.

Within Wang Lin’s mind, an awe-inspiring spectacle unfolded. Eight primordial Thunder Dragons roared and thrashed, desperate to break free from his divine consciousness. Yet to them, Wang Lin’s spirit was a prison, impervious to their efforts!

To fully refine and assimilate the souls of these eight dragons was no easy feat, even for one of Wang Lin’s caliber. Constant and diligent purification was required. Fortunately, besides the Origin of Thunder, he also possessed the Origin of Fire!

As the eight Thunder Dragons struggled, a sea of cerulean fire erupted within Wang Lin’s spirit, engulfing the dragons in a blazing inferno of relentless purification.

In the sea of blue fire, a Vermillion Bird glided in a flash of red, circling the Thunder Dragons, unleashing torrents of flame to bolster the intensity of the purification!

Wang Lin’s own divine consciousness, already composed of a partial Primordial Thunder Dragon, now pulsed with lightning amidst the sea of fire. It coalesced into a ninth dragon, a perfect match, and it kept a close watch on the eight being purged, ready to devour them at the opportune moment.

Time trickled by, and within the blue flames, the spirits of the eight Primordial Thunder Dragons cried out in anguish. Their wails were contained within Wang Lin’s spirit, unheard beyond his physical form.

Wang Lin’s house, like the world outside, remained quiet. As the night deepened, the lights in the houses gradually died down. The whole of the west end of the town was in darkness except for a few lights.

The sound of a wooden rattle broke the silence, carried on the air was the voice of the night watchman as he made his rounds through the streets:

“A cold front is approaching, close the doors and put out the lights….” The sound slowly faded away, the village was silent once more.

But at the moment when the night watchman moved out of earshot, Wang Lin, who was sitting cross-legged in the house, suddenly opened his eyes. A flash of light passed through his eyes, and his right hand lifted up and grabbed the wine pot on the table. He quickly brought the vessel to his lips and took a long swig!

The alcohol was spicy, filling his stomach. Immediately, a hot sensation spread throughout his body. With a burst of pungency at the top of his mouth, Wang Lin’s eyes closed in a sudden burst. After that, the liquor burst out of the pores, just as if it was on fire, which created more flames inside Wang Lin’s body.

The flame surged into the divine consciousness, and as that cerulean sea of flame burned even fiercer, the liquor essence also made its way into his body like small rain droplets, and onto the sea of fire, making it erupt.

It burned even more furiously this time, intensifying to a greater extent. Immediately, one of the eight Primordial Thunder Dragons cried.

The Primordial Thunder Dragon began to shake. His whole body was burnt by the flames and collapsed. However, at the instant he crumbled, Wang Lin’s Yuan God suddenly rushed over like the ninth Primordial Thunder Dragon who had been waiting for this opportunity all this time.

In a burst of speed, he absorbed the broken essence like a vortex!

At that instant, it was no longer possible for the crumbled Primordial Thunder Dragon to put up any resistance. He was now assimilated and was a part of Wang Lin!

Within the house, Wang Lin’s complexion was ruddy, as if he had swallowed something restorative. Though his eyes remained closed, there was a lightning imprint breaking through his right eyelid and growing.

The room was still, but the fire was dancing from the candle, casting Wang Lin’s shadow on the floor. A moment later, there was a crack, and the light went out.

Wang Lin was now enshrouded in a sea of darkness, but there was still faint lightning emanating from his eye that made it barely visible.

In Wang Lin’s divine consciousness, the remaining seven thunderous Dragons continued to desperately thrash within the sea of fire. But this time, instead of the effort being split eight ways, it was seven. That made the flames even stronger for each of the Dragons being targeted.

The seven Dragons continued to shrill and scream in agony from being burnt. Not long after, another one collapsed, and was absorbed into the soul by Wang Lin!

In one swift motion, Wang Lin’s dragon self slammed headfirst into the remaining Dragons, consuming and tearing into them.

As the night drew to a close, the dawn’s first light kissed the land, rousing the city from its slumber. The dawn was somewhat delayed, its rays obscured by heavy storm clouds, casting the land in an unnatural gloom.

Thunder rumbled softly in the clouds, and a fine rain began to fall.

Wang Lin opened his eyes, sitting still in his house.

“I swallowed and merged seven out of eight Thunder Dragons. There is only one left!” His eyes flashed.