“My lord,” Zhong Dahong declared, his voice brimming with excitement, “I have inquired, and it is said that in this place, elixirs are valued above even enchanted weapons! Moreover, they traffic in golems, their strength varied, yet all are highly sought after. Imprint your spiritual brand upon them, and they shall obey your every whim!”

Wang Lin had released Zhong Dahong upon arriving in this strange land, tasking him with gathering information. Zhong Dahong, being of the ancient Star Continent, would not arouse suspicion as he made his inquiries.

“Furthermore, no whispers of the Star Continent Decree have reached my ears. You may rest easy, my lord.”

Before releasing Zhong Dahong, Wang Lin had subtly probed the man’s heart with his mystic arts. Wang Lin had, after all, destroyed the Lightning Flash Clan, and Zhong Dahong was one of their kin. He wondered what resentment might fester within him.

To Wang Lin’s surprise, Zhong Dahong held no affection for his former clan. In his eyes, they had offered him nothing but the burden of providing thunder crystals. He had achieved his modest strength through his own efforts, witnessing only the cold indifference of his kinsmen. Thus, when the opportunity to grow powerful under Wang Lin’s banner presented itself, he had abandoned the Lightning Flash Clan without hesitation.

Moreover, though the clan was shattered, many of its members had wandered off to other places over the millennia. It was not uncommon to find members of the Lightning Flash Clan scattered throughout this Desolate Land.

“Golems, you say?” Wang Lin murmured, his interest piqued.

Zhong Dahong straightened, eager to please. “My lord, these golems command exorbitant prices. I know not what they are made of, but they possess the strength of a proper cultivator. It is even whispered that they contain fragments of souls! Truly wondrous!”

Wang Lin’s expression remained impassive. The golems held a certain fascination, but after a moment of contemplation, he inquired, “Have you any tidings of the Fire Sparrow Clan?”

“The Fire Sparrow Clan is not numerous here. I have not encountered them on this star, but I have learned that the bulk of their clan resides upon a fiery star not far from here. As for specifics, I am not yet fully acquainted with the area, but I should be able to unearth the details soon enough!” Zhong Dahong thumped his chest, his voice assured.

A flicker of something akin to hunger ignited within Wang Lin’s eyes. His Essence of Lightning, though perfected, still held subtle imperfections. He had every confidence in mending those flaws, but his true purpose in remaining in this dangerous land was the refinement of his Essence of Fire!

To achieve true mastery and awaken the Vermillion Bird within him once more, he needed to absorb flames of the highest caliber. The Fire Sparrow Clan was his primary target, one he would not readily relinquish.

The Fire Sparrow Clan, however, would not be as easily manipulated as the Lightning Flash Clan. He could not rely on chance encounters to infiltrate their ranks and gain access to the heart of their fiery power. The possibility of posing as one of their own was equally improbable.

That had been his initial plan, but now, branded as a fugitive throughout the Star Continent, he would likely be hunted down before he could even approach their inner circle.

Despite the obstacles, Wang Lin had conceived a daring plan that, if successful, would allow him to siphon the very essence of the Fire Sparrow Clan’s flames!

“Zhong Dahong,” Wang Lin commanded after a moment of reflection, extending his hand, “Take these elixirs and procure me a golem.” Three pills materialized in his palm, their aroma filling the cavern. Zhong Dahong, eyes wide with longing, eagerly accepted them.

Clutching the elixirs, Zhong Dahong bowed low, a servile smile plastered on his face. “My lord, there is also traffic in… *furnaces* in these parts. Shall I seek one out for you?”

Wang Lin’s brow furrowed. Zhong Dahong immediately recoiled, offering a nervous laugh as he hastened to depart.

Emerging from the cavern, a gust of wind chilled Zhong Dahong. His tunic was soaked with sweat. Though proximity to Wang Lin offered untold opportunities, even a simple frown from his master sent a chill down his spine. He held Wang Lin in utter dread.

“That Xu Liguo is a detestable toad, ensconced as he is in master’s storage space. He abuses me simply because of his higher cultivation base. Zhong Dahong does not forget! One day, when my strength rivals his, I shall have my revenge! Hmph, so long as I serve master well, that day will come sooner than later.” Clutching the elixirs, Zhong Dahong transformed into a streak of light, speeding away.

He had been in this place for several days and, through his wit and innate cunning, had befriended numerous lower-level cultivators. Before long, he arrived at the mouth of a secluded valley. Halting, he clasped his hands and called out in a loud voice, “Brother Zhang, Zhong has come to call!”

The valley was silent, choked with thorny plants. A sense of desolation hung in the air, tinged with an oppressive, chilling mist. Scattered bones lay haphazardly across the ground, arranged in some strange, unsettling pattern.

Deep within the valley lay a cavern, shrouded in a thick, swirling darkness that obscured its depths. There was no door.

In response to Zhong Dahong’s greeting, a harsh, grating laugh echoed from within the inky cavern. Suddenly, the darkness surged outwards, consuming the sky. From the depths of the cavern emerged a gaunt, black-robed figure, his hair wild and unkempt, his skin stretched taut over bone. His eyes glowed with a faint, bloodshot light, giving him a terrifying appearance.

“So, it is little brother Zhong! I thought you’d returned to render your account to your lord. I did not expect you back so soon,” the emaciated elder rasped, drawing near to Zhong Dahong.

Zhong Dahong remained unfazed. With a cheerful smile, he flipped his hand and presented one of Wang Lin’s elixirs, sending it soaring towards the gaunt elder.

The elder’s eyes widened. He snatched the pill from the air and examined it closely. His expression shifted, revealing unbridled elation. “A superior-grade elixir! Precisely what I need for my cultivation! These are extremely rare! Brother Zhong…this…”

Zhong Dahong chuckled heartily, cupping his hands in a respectful gesture. “Think nothing of it, Brother Zhang. Such elixirs are no longer of concern to my lord. I have noticed Brother Zhang has long lingered at the late-stage of Spirit Transformation. I imagine you have great need of them. Accept it as a token of my esteem!”
The gaunt old man inhaled sharply, abandoning all pretense of politeness. He clutched the offered elixir to his chest, his eyes darting towards Zhong Dahong. “Brother Zhong,” he whispered, “your master’s cultivation… it couldn’t possibly be…?” He hesitated, then pressed on, “Could it be the Realm of Illusory Yin and Yang?”

Zhong Dahong, anticipating this very question, adopted an expression of utter reverence. “My master’s power reaches the heavens themselves. Even I cannot fathom its depths. Yet I have witnessed it firsthand: even a cultivator who has glimpsed Nirvana falls before him with but a single strike!”

The old man gasped. He dared not assess the veracity of this claim, for truth or lie, any being who dispensed such potent draughts was far beyond his reach.

“Brother Zhong, you are blessed to serve such a master!” The gaunt man’s eyes gleamed with envy. He clasped his hands in a respectful bow. “Your path shall surely be smooth and bright. Pray, do not forget to lend a hand to this humble Zhang.”

“Consider it done,” Zhong Dahong replied with a smile and a matching bow. “In truth, my journey here requires your assistance, Brother Zhang.”

“Speak freely, Brother! If it lies within my power, Zhang will not hesitate.” The old man practically leapt forward. He had met Zhong Dahong only days before, but the man’s generosity and obvious wealth hinted at a grand provenance. The potent elixirs he offered had stirred the old man’s greed, tempting him to outright theft. However, his cautious nature had prevailed. He had investigated, discovering the servant was bound to a powerful master.

A being capable of commanding a Transformed Divinity cultivator as a servant was beyond his reckoning. He suppressed his greed. Furthermore, Zhong Dahong was a silver-tongued diplomat, scattering gifts of elixirs like autumn leaves. Gradually, the two had forged a precarious alliance of mutual self-interest.

Until now, a seed of doubt had lingered in Zhang’s heart. But the casual bestowal of this latest, extraordinary potion dispelled all uncertainty. His master must possess power beyond measure!

“You mentioned, Brother Zhang, your knowledge of golems,” Zhong Dahong continued. “I spoke of this to my master upon my return. He desires to purchase one… As you know, Brother, I am new to these parts and unfamiliar with the local customs. I would be eternally grateful if you could guide me, making this endeavor a little smoother. Success shall be rewarded handsomely, I assure you.” His eyes flickered almost imperceptibly as he spoke.

The old man, Zhang, hesitated. “Brother Zhong,” he murmured, “golems are not easily acquired… In the core worlds, perhaps, but here, the trade is controlled by the Dark Scorpion clan. They are notoriously ruthless, inflating prices tenfold. Are you certain you wish to proceed?”

Seeing Zhong Dahong’s resolute nod, the old man gnawed his lip. “Very well,” he declared, gritting his teeth. “Zhang will lead you there!”

He turned and strode swiftly forward, Zhong Dahong close behind.

To the west of this cultivation star lay a forgotten city, its crumbled walls surrounded by an ocean of sand. Though ravaged by time, it teemed with life. Cultivators thronged the streets, bartering and seeking their fortunes.

The old man seemed intimately familiar with the labyrinthine alleys, leading Zhong Dahong with practiced ease. Soon, they stood before a relatively intact grand hall, its entrance emanating an aura of dread. With deliberate steps, they crossed the threshold.

The hall stood at the very heart of the ruined city, yet few dared to linger near its walls. Those who did often shook their heads, murmuring warnings. The arrival of Zhong Dahong and his companion did not go unnoticed.

The moment they stepped inside, Zhong Dahong felt a bone-chilling wave wash over him. His own meager cultivation offered no defense against the bitter cold. It pierced him to the very core, his face paling, his heart seizing. He stumbled back, coughing up a mouthful of crimson blood.

The old man fared slightly better, though the color drained from his face. He prostrated himself on the cold stone floor, crying out, “We mean no harm! We seek only to purchase a golem!”

The hall was vast, its center dominated by a colossal statue. A black scorpion, its claws raised in menace and its tail poised to strike, exuded the chilling aura that had so afflicted Zhong Dahong.

“You seek a golem?” a voice like cracking ice echoed through the hall. A figure emerged from the shadows beyond the statue. “What can two paltry Transformed Divinity cultivators offer that would warrant such a purchase?”

The newcomer was a man of perhaps forty years, clad in dark robes. His face was sullen, his eyes filled with disdain. A grotesque scorpion sigil marked his brow, the scorpion itself appearing almost alive, its segments writhing, its tail twitching with unnatural energy.

Zhong Dahong inhaled deeply, then bowed low, producing a single elixir, a gift from Wang Lin. He offered it with respect. “We wish to exchange this draught for a golem.”

The dark-clad man’s expression remained unchanged. He snatched the offered elixir from Zhong Dahong’s hand, examining it with casual indifference. Then, his eyes widened. Ignoring Zhong Dahong entirely, he brought the potion to his nose, inhaling deeply. Then, he unleashed his spiritual sense, probing its depths. His pupils contracted sharply.

“A Soul Pill!” His gaze snapped back to Zhong Dahong. “How many do you possess?”

Zhong Dahong gave a wry smile. “But one more,” he replied softly, offering it without hesitation.

The man clutched the two potions, studying Zhong Dahong with renewed interest. He concluded that the man must have stumbled upon some rare fortune, allowing him to acquire such treasures. He would not possess many, surely. Two such pills were already a bounty beyond measure.

Nodding curtly, the man waved his hand. The scorpion sigil on his brow flared with light, and an instant later, a golem, almost indistinguishable from a living man, materialized before them.

This golem bore no clan marking. Its eyes were blank, its face devoid of life. A chilling aura emanated from its form, indicating a cultivation level equivalent to the early stages of Transformed Divinity.

“These two pills are sufficient to purchase this golem. Now, be gone,” the dark-clad man ordered, turning and striding towards the depths of the hall.
Until he departed, Zhong Dahong and the wizened elder exchanged a glance, each seeing fear reflected in the other’s eyes. Zhong Dahong felt a pang of regret; he hadn’t anticipated that merely acquiring a puppet would nearly cost him his life.

He hastily gathered the puppet and, with the wizened elder, fled the city with all due haste.

Meanwhile, the middle-aged man, deep within the grand hall, stamped his right foot upon the floor. The ground gave way, swallowing him whole, for beneath the hall lay another realm entirely.

Like a towering spire buried deep within the earth, the hall served only as its apex. Soon, the middle-aged man descended to the penultimate level. Here, another scorpion statue stood enshrined, and upon it sat a youth in a meditative pose.

The youth inhaled and exhaled, seeming to draw power from the statue. As the middle-aged man entered, his eyes snapped open.

“My lord, two Nascent Soul cultivators arrived bearing these pills!” the middle-aged man announced, presenting the requested items. The youth, possessed of an aloof air, took them and examined them briefly.

“Soul Pills… of unremarkable grade, yet the souls within are… acceptable. Nothing to cause such a stir. Seize one of those lesser cultivators, wound the other, and imprint a brand of your spirit upon the latter, that we may discern his destination. Henceforth, do not disturb me with such trifles.” With that, the youth closed his eyes once more, dismissing the matter from his thoughts.

The middle-aged man bowed in assent and vanished from the chamber.

Zhong Dahong and the wizened elder scrambled from the city. High above, the wizened elder sighed. “Brother Zhong, the Dark Scorpion Clan is a force of ruthless renown; none dare cross them on this star. Today, fortune smiled upon us, allowing us to obtain the puppet. If…” He did not finish, for his eyes widened in horror, fixed on something ahead.

Zhong Dahong, startled, followed his gaze. His scalp prickled with dread, and without hesitation, he lunged forward, seeking escape.

A chilling laugh echoed across the heavens, followed by two streaks of black light that hurtled towards Zhong Dahong from behind. One struck the wizened elder, who, powerless to resist, screamed as he was captured.

The other beam overtook Zhong Dahong, searing into his back. A dark corruption spread across his face as he coughed blood, his soul reeling as he desperately fled.

The middle-aged man of the Dark Scorpion Clan materialized in the sky, casting a cold glance at Zhong Dahong’s retreating figure. Then, seizing the unconscious elder, he vanished, returning to the Dark Scorpion Clan’s hall.

Zhong Dahong’s face was ashen. The brush with death had made him starkly aware of the dangers of this place, far exceeding those of the Lightning Flash Clan.

“My greed has shown, alas… I erred in this endeavor, endangering my friend Zhang and nearly courting disaster.” Zhong Dahong pushed himself to his utmost speed, racing towards Wang Lin’s secluded mountain.

“Strength! If I possessed power, like that of Xu Liguo, none of this would have transpired! I, Zhong Dahong, must become stronger!” Driven by this desperate ambition, he flew with frantic speed. After what seemed like an eternity, the peak housing Wang Lin’s hermitage came into view.

Upon reaching the mountain, Zhong Dahong’s face twisted in bitterness. He stumbled into the cave dwelling, collapsing within and spitting forth another mouthful of blood.

Wang Lin, who had been meditating, opened his eyes the moment Zhong Dahong entered. A sharp light blazed from his gaze, piercing through the injured man’s form.

“The puppet?” Wang Lin asked, his voice low.

Zhong Dahong, deathly pale, remained silent for a moment. Then, with a wave of his hand, the puppet materialized beside him. Wang Lin reached out, his hand closing on empty air, yet the puppet flew to him, hovering before him. He scrutinized it, a peculiar glint entering his eyes.

“This thing…” After a prolonged pause, Wang Lin withdrew his gaze, dismissing the puppet with a wave. “What ails you?” he asked, his tone indifferent.

Zhong Dahong hesitated, then recounted the events that had transpired. When he saw Wang Lin’s face darkening, he bowed his head and said with bitter regret, “Master, I was foolish. Had I known more of this place, this might have been avoided. Yet the puppet is retrieved; I have fulfilled your command…”

“As for my wounds, I should recover with a period of seclusion.” He saw that Wang Lin remained silent, his expression growing ever more grim. A shiver went down his spine. He lowered his voice further. “Master came to this desolate land to escape pursuers. I can endure this…”

He did not finish, for Wang Lin cut him off with a cold snort, causing his face to drain of its remaining color.

“A venomous stroke, indeed. No amount of seclusion will restore you swiftly. They have disrupted the flow of your cultivation and branded you with their spiritual mark.”

Zhong Dahong trembled, clenching his fists before forcing himself to relax. He offered no reply.

“You are mine. Your suffering, I cannot abide!” Wang Lin rose to his feet, striding towards the cave’s exit.

Zhong Dahong’s head snapped up, his eyes fixed on Wang Lin, his face etched with disbelief. His eyes began to tear. “Master…”

“Lead the way, lest you remain here!” Wang Lin did not look back, his voice as sharp as ice.

Zhong Dahong took a deep breath, his eyes hardening with resolve. Without hesitation, he strode forward, leading Wang Lin towards the city. Impatient with his pace, Wang Lin seized him, his speed instantly becoming like a roaring thunderclap, tearing through the heavens, and vanishing into the distance.

Every cultivator on the star shuddered, sensing a pressure that threatened to crush their very souls. The skies shifted, the earth trembled, and the wind howled in fear.

In a breath, Wang Lin stood with Zhong Dahong above the ruined city. He released his grip, allowing Zhong Dahong to stand beside him. Zhong Dahong, heart pounding with fierce joy, pointed towards the grand hall in the city below. “Master, the Dark Scorpion Clan resides there!”

Wang Lin’s eyes burned with a fierce light as he surveyed the city below.

“Within three breaths, this city shall fall. Those who wish to live, depart hence!”

His words were like thunder, crashing down upon the city. The sound coalesced into a shockwave, shaking the ruined city to its very foundations and sending dust billowing into the sky.
Within the city walls, the faces of the sorcerers twisted in sudden dread. Some coughed crimson, forced to taste their own lifeblood. With frantic haste, they fled, seeking escape with desperate speed.

Within the grand hall, the Middle-Aged Chieftain sat deep in meditation. Beside him, the Elder Zhang was ashen, fear etched in his ancient eyes. He was poised to beg for mercy when, like the wrath of the heavens, Wang Lin’s voice thundered forth.

The Chieftain’s eyes snapped open, revealing stark terror. A tremor ran through him, and he spat crimson onto the ornate floor before rising unsteadily to his feet.

Not only he, but throughout the tiered pagoda that burrowed beneath the grand hall, every scion of the Dark Scorpion Clan, each locked in silent communion with arcane energies, were jolted awake. Shock radiated from their faces.

Even the youth upon the second-highest tier felt the echo. His face drained of color as the voice pierced through the earth, its power resonating in the very stones, causing the entire pagoda to tremble.

Three heartbeats passed, an eternity in such dire straits. Then, Wang Lin raised his right hand, and with a gesture of terrible finality, he slammed it downwards. The sky roared, and bolts of lightning, born from the very fabric of the cosmos, converged. A colossal net of incandescent energy, spanning the heavens, solidified. With Wang Lin’s command, it plunged towards the doomed city.

The endless tempest of lightning formed a spectacle of terrifying beauty, freezing the hearts of those desperate souls fleeing the city’s embrace. With a deafening **BOOM**, the earth quaked. A storm of raw power swept across the land as the net descended, tearing apart the city’s every bastion. The grand hall exploded in a shower of shattered stone, and the abandoned settlement vanished in a plume of dust and oblivion.

The earth itself cracked, forming chasms that plunged hundreds of feet into the dark abyss, revealing the lower portion of the hidden pagoda, now exposed to the open sky. Its spire had crumbled, leaving Elder Zhang to stare blankly upwards, his gaze locking upon the figure of Zhong Dahong, his mind reeling.

“He… he is Zhong Dahong’s master?!”

Beside him, the Middle-Aged Chieftain stood speechless, his eyes wide with disbelief. The suddenness of the cataclysm had left him paralyzed, unable to comprehend the reality unfolding before him.

Wang Lin descended slowly, alighting amidst the ruins of the shattered hall. Zhong Dahong followed, his eyes shining with triumphant joy.

“Was it he who wronged you?” Wang Lin asked, his gaze fixed upon the paralyzed Chieftain, as he addressed Zhong Dahong.