A tidal wave of might, like an avalanche unleashed from the heavens, crashed upon Lu Fuzi’s very soul, utterly shattering his composure. All resistance crumbled before it, leaving only the raw, disbelieving shock.

For a cultivator of Lu Fuzi’s standing, a bitter comprehension dawned as he stared, dumbfounded, at the unfolding scene.

He knew, with a chilling certainty, that he had committed a grave error, one that threatened to be his undoing. He had misjudged the extent of Wang Lin’s power. When Wang Lin first returned to Luo Tian, Lu Fuzi had deemed him a worthy opponent, a force to be reckoned with and perhaps best left undisturbed.

This assessment, however, had been warped by the rain of sword-light upon Qing Ling Star. It had given Lu Fuzi a false sense of understanding, a belief that he had glimpsed the true limits of Wang Lin’s strength, and a dangerous complacency had begun to creep into his heart.

Then came the revelation at Dong Lin Star: Wang Lin’s eight-breath vulnerability. It was a jolt that shook Lu Fuzi to his core, forcing him to acknowledge his misjudgment. Inwardly, he elevated Wang Lin to his own level, yet he clung to the belief that his own array of enchanted treasures would prevent any decisive defeat.

When Wang Lin arrived at the edge of the celestial array, the raw power unleashed in his single roar sent tremors of unease through Lu Fuzi. He adjusted his estimation once more, acknowledging that Wang Lin might hold a slight edge. Still, even then, he could not conceive of the other man being capable of inflicting grievous harm upon him.

With his arsenal of potent artifacts, surely the battle would end in a stalemate, a contest of wills where neither could truly dominate the other!

The interrupted literary duel, Wang Lin’s unnerving calm, fueled Lu Fuzi’s suspicion and anxiety. He had chosen to force a confrontation, conjuring the realm of Feng Xian and unleashing his most potent treasures, even manipulating the very fabric of the star array.

He believed that this display, even if his opponent possessed a slight advantage, would force Wang Lin to retreat. But then, Ling Dong had appeared, and Lu Fuzi was seized by the horrifying realization that his calculations had once again failed him.

Wang Lin’s composure stemmed from the fact that he possessed a Third Step thrall!

This was beyond anything Lu Fuzi had anticipated, but even as shock gave way to fury, he steeled himself for battle. He convinced himself that this was Wang Lin’s ultimate gambit, that he had no further tricks to play. And Lu Fuzi still had the star array. With its aid, he believed he could, at the very least, hold his own.

However, the arrival of Zhou Jin was the final blow, the last shred of confidence to crumble away. It shattered Lu Fuzi’s resolve and brought with it a terror beyond imagining!

He could not fathom that Wang Lin’s Third Step thrall was not singular… but twofold! The second was a being that had nearly attained the pinnacle of the early stage of Void Nirvana, and was rapidly approaching the middle!

Lu Fuzi’s face turned ashen, his mind reeling.

Within the star array, the eighteen magical artifacts shimmered into being, only to be violently repelled by the overwhelming presence of Zhou Jin and Ling Dong. Their Third Step aura resonated, pushing them back and disrupting their formation.

The array, still incomplete, could not withstand the combined might of the three.

Zhou Jin’s emergence sent shockwaves through the assembled cultivators. The blood wolf that stalked behind him let out a deafening howl, a sound that reverberated across the battlefield and seized the hearts of the tens of thousands who had just mustered the courage to roar in defiance. It was as if their throats had been crushed, their souls ensnared in a web of paralyzing fear!

The confidence that Lu Fuzi’s grand pronouncements had instilled in them evaporated.

“Third Step… another Third Step… how is this possible?!”

“Impossible! Third Step cultivators are the rarest of beings. How can he have *two* of them as *servants*?!”

“Third Step Grandmasters, the likes of which appear only once in millennia, now seem commonplace… how can there be so many…”

“Two Third Step cultivators as thralls… what is Wang Lin? What manner of being is he, that he can achieve such a feat?”

Yan Leizi’s mind was paralyzed. The events that had transpired in such a short span of time had numbed his capacity for shock. Despite the numbness, Zhou Jin’s appearance still sent a jolt of pain through his skull.

“Two… perhaps there are more… a third… a fourth…” Yan Leizi muttered, his eyes glazed over.

Lie Yunzi, too, was lost in a fog of disbelief. He stared blankly ahead, his thoughts scattered. He could no longer process what he was witnessing.

Any Second Step cultivator within the Realm would have been petrified by the sight of two Third Step Grandmasters acting as servants. It was unheard of!

Xue Shenzi’s heart pounded, despair clouding his eyes. He could never have envisioned such a scene. Even Lu Fuzi was retreating. The vastness of the world now felt like a prison.

The aura of the two Third Step Grandmasters, Zhou Jin and Ling Dong, swept across Luo Tian, reaching into the other three great starfields.

In the Cloud Sea Starfield, within a secluded chamber of the Divine Sect, Shui Daozi was seated in meditation. His countenance was serene, his injuries healed. But suddenly, he snapped his eyes open, his gaze filled with shock. He rose to his feet and turned abruptly, staring into the distance.

His face twisted into a mask of disbelief.

Within the same Divine Sect, in a heavily sealed array, a beautiful woman sat cross-legged, her long hair cascading around her. Her beauty was enough to stir the heart.

She remained in her meditative state, seemingly oblivious to the aura that had so alarmed Shui Daozi, her eyes closed, her mind still.

Within the Cloud Sea Starfield’s First Step Star Mist, on a small, desolate fragment of a continent, devoid of both beasts and humans,

In the heart of this continent, nestled in a hidden valley, sat a middle-aged man dressed in red robes.

Before him, the Sect Master of the Demon Sect and several elders knelt, their faces filled with respectful anticipation, awaiting a reply from the man in red.

Suddenly, the red-clad man opened his eyes, and an earth-shattering aura began to emanate from him. Yet, as quickly as it appeared, it retracted, suppressed until no trace remained.
Far off, a voice echoed, tinged with ancient power, “So it is he… the vessel for that tiresome Lord of the Sealed Realm? A most intriguing whelp…”

Across the Alliance Star System, within the rain-swept, sealed realm of the Immortals, Qing Shuang, deep in centuries of meditative healing, abruptly opened her eyes. A ripple of bewilderment and awe washed over her face as she gazed into the distance.

Before her, the solemn figure of Situ Nan mirrored her posture, his own eyes snapping open, a flash of keen light piercing the mist of his thoughts.

Within the Immortal Realm stood a monolithic statue, perched atop the realm’s highest peak. At its base, for countless years, a solitary figure had knelt in perpetual vigil: a man in the prime of his life, clad eternally in black. His hair, long and unbound, framed a face etched with chilling indifference, a visage eerily reminiscent of Wang Lin in his younger days.

This mountain was a sanctum he had personally declared forbidden, a place where not even Situ Nan dared tread, nor Qing Shuang, the maiden of Qing Lin, nor Zhou Yi.

Indeed, the black-clad guardian would raise his hand against Qing Shuang herself, should she attempt to violate the sacred ground.

All of this stemmed from a single directive, uttered by Wang Lin upon his departure:

“Guard this statue. Allow no one to touch it!”

Now, a glint of icy fire ignited within the black-clad guardian’s eyes. A tremor ran through him, and a surge of overwhelming emotion twisted his features. He lifted his gaze, seemingly toward some distant point. Though unable to physically behold the familiar form, a profound connection resonated within him, a sense that the familiar presence was near…

“Master!!”

In a verdant meadow within the Rain Immortal Realm, vibrant with otherworldly flora and perfumed by exotic blooms, a woman clad in white sat in peaceful meditation. Beside her, a massive tiger sprawled languidly, its eyes occasionally flicking open to observe its serene companion.

Further afield, atop a mountain cloaked in eternal ice, another woman, cold and unyielding as the glacial frost, sat in the teeth of the chilling wind. She gazed into the distance, her expression as impassive as the mountain itself.

At the foot of this frozen peak stood a humble cottage. Within its courtyard stood a man in a simple green robe, his face bearing the marks of time and hardship, yet hinting at the handsome youth he once was.

Though his form appeared solid, he seemed more akin to a spirit, lacking true substance.

He stood there, gazing up at the frigid mountain, his eyes reflecting a devotion that had endured for millennia, an unyielding, silent plea…

Elsewhere within the Alliance Star System, within the utterly sealed headquarters of the Cultivation Alliance, a chorus of enraged roars, laden with despair, echoed through the centuries…

“Kill! Kill! Kill! I will slaughter every living thing in this realm! I will bring forth an apocalypse that will shatter the heavens!”

Within the territory of the Corpse Yin Sect, a gaze as solid and tangible as a celestial body, capable of rending the very fabric of space, blazed forth, fixing its unwavering attention upon the heavens of Luo Tian.

“So he is the one…the fulfillment of the Lord of the Sealed Realm’s ancient pact…”

Within the Starfield of Luo Tian, at the heart of a colossal astral formation, Wang Lin, with his ever-present serenity, continued to regard Lu Fuzi. He offered no scorn, but instead, moved forward, passing the stricken scholar and approaching the stunned Blood God Child.

Lu Fuzi, his face ashen, allowed Wang Lin to pass, devoid of any further desire to interfere. His expression was a mask of complex emotions, dominated by bitter regret.

He remembered aiding Wang Lin in the ancient God-realm on Vermillion Bird Star. Though his actions had been simple, born of the casual goodwill of a mortal assisting an ant across a stream, Wang Lin had not forgotten.

Thus, he had agreed to Lu Fuzi’s challenge of wit and refrained from completely shattering their fragile accord, in a gesture of repaying the debt. However, Lu Fuzi’s overzealous aggression had aroused Wang Lin’s displeasure. Wang Lin had then dispensed with the contest of words, summoning Ling Dong and Zhou Jin to deliver an unimaginable shock.

Leaving the embittered scholar behind, Wang Lin stepped into the heart of the swirling vortex, halting before the petrified Blood God Child.

The Blood God Child’s face was deathly white. As Wang Lin drew near, he unleashed a piercing shriek, desperately channeling his power. With a frantic wave of his sleeve, a phantom of pure, unbridled demonic energy materialized behind him, a spectral manifestation of raw, primal power!