In the obsidian void, a crimson glimmer pulsed, an echo resonating across untold decades. Yet, the sanguine light waned, a dying ember on the cusp of final oblivion.

Here, beyond the grasp of mortal reckoning, years bled into epochs within the silent abyss. Time itself was adrift, unheeded, uncharted, forever untouched.

Beyond the stygian stillness, only silence reigned supreme.

Then, on this forgotten day, amidst the two lifeless figures within the blood-stained light, the silver-haired youth stirred, his eyes opening upon the desolate scene.

In that instant, as his gaze pierced the blackness, thunder erupted, a cataclysmic symphony in the inky skies. At first a mere murmur, the sound swiftly swelled to a crescendo, a deafening roar that threatened to shatter the very fabric of reality.

The booming tempest threatened to rip asunder the oppressive void, to tear through the cosmos itself. For a fleeting moment, the thunder redoubled its fury, its echoes reverberating across the silent expanse.

Lightning surged forth like celestial serpents unleashed, illuminating the darkness with wild, untamed energy. A colossal web of silver fire, crackling and writhing, ensnared the endless void within its luminous embrace.

The raging thunder and flashing lightning, as if summoned by a sovereign’s decree, heralded the awakening of their king. The thunder roared with exultant frenzy, jubilant at the return of its rightful lord.

The interwoven lightning, in its blinding brilliance, likewise seemed to offer homage to their returning sovereign.

And from the heart of the storm, a maelstrom of multi-hued flame erupted, twisting and churning across the void. The fire blazed in nine distinct colors, coalescing into a unified inferno as it spread, a roaring tide that clashed with the lightning’s fury above.

This fiery tempest, too, seemed to pay tribute to its returning monarch.

For the sovereign of this tempestuous symphony of lightning, thunder, and fire was the silver-haired youth, Wang Lin!

His eyes, newly opened, reflected this duality: the left, a swirling vortex of fire; the right, a storm of lightning. His countenance held the clarity of understanding, yet veiled by the somber realization of a dream’s end.

Seventy long years had passed within the dream, seventy years that had become an alternate reality for Wang Lin. A fabricated existence, woven from threads of deceit, where he had tricked even himself.

A lingering haze of bewilderment clung to his gaze as he awoke. His left hand clutched the right wrist of the madman beside him, leaving behind the faint imprint of a golden hand.

After an eternity, amid the clamor of thunder and the dance of flames, the confusion receded, replaced by an icy resolve, an unyielding will, and the chilling surge of murderous intent born from the full recollection of his true self!

“Lord Palm, Celestial Sovereign of Emptiness, and those wretched consorts… I, Wang Lin, have awakened!”

His eyes blazed with cold fury, he sat up and slowly rose to his feet, lifting his gaze to the void beyond the blood-tinged glow.

“For over two thousand years, I, Wang Lin, have walked the Dao. Today, I shall shatter the Sky Gate and ascend to the third step of power, to become a Great One!” He raised his right hand, pointing towards the unknown.

“Essence of Thunder!”

The heavens roared in response as the wild lightning writhed and coalesced. In a heartbeat, all the lightning and thunder in the void converged, forming an undying bolt that descended upon Wang Lin, hovering just beyond the crimson light. Simultaneously, the lightning sigil in Wang Lin’s right eye flashed and merged with the ethereal thunderbolt.

From their union, the Primal Thunder of Heaven and Earth was born! An unyielding sigil of pure, elemental power!

A thunderous mark it was! Nine swirling vortexes of accompanying thunder circled it nine times, before merging to form a thunderous Essence.

The void trembled as the primal thunder manifested, its power capable of shattering the heavens and shaking the foundations of reality. The tremble radiated in waves, twisting and distorting the void itself.

An aura of immense power emanated from the thunder, a force capable of shifting winds and darkening skies. It was the power of thunder, the unyielding force of the cosmos!

He who commanded this power was the Thunder Immortal!

The oppressive weight of a Third Step Great One radiated from the primal thunder sigil, potent enough to challenge even those in the nascent stages of the Empty Nirvana realm.

After the fusion with the accompanying vortexes, the thunder became a chaotic mass. No longer did it resemble lightning, but rather a swirling vortex of chaos.

The breath of the universe from before the beginning of the stars, the primal essence from which all lightning was born!

Colorless, it revolved around the crimson glow, encircling Wang Lin in its embrace. With a renewed surge of will, Wang Lin pointed his right hand again.

“Essence of Fire!”

His voice, etched with weariness and coldness, echoed through the void. The infinite sea of fire around him surged inwards, its nine colors blending into a singular hue of ethereal flame. Yet, a deeper understanding, a Daoist principle, resonated from within the flames.

This fire transcended the ethereal, becoming the flame of the Dao itself. From its heart, the completed essence of fire exploded forth.

All the flames in the void surged towards Wang Lin, coalescing into a burning, incandescent totem that materialized before him.

The fiery totem seemed solid, yet it was an illusion, constantly shifting and blurring as if countless energies danced within it. It radiated an unbearable heat, capable of incinerating even those Third Step Great Ones still in the early stages of Empty Nirvana.

Thunder and fire, both now fully realized!

With only these two primal Essences, Wang Lin possessed the power to shatter the Sky Gate, and to obliterate any cultivator within the Empty Nirvana realm, save for those who had reached the perfected stages!

“Karma, reveal thyself!” The iciness in Wang Lin’s eyes softened, replaced by a contemplative gaze. An unprecedented aura, a refined and cultured air as of a grand scholar, spread out around him.

This aura was alien to those who tread the path of cultivation. Even the great scholars of their age would have abandoned this aura on their quest for power. Only Wang Lin, through the way of dreams, had preserved it.

From his dreams he had drawn the very essence of creation, a mind capable of commanding both heavens and earth. As he spoke the words “Karma, reveal thyself,” this force erupted from his heart.

The essence of karma, formless and intangible, manifested in Wang Lin’s right hand. His open palm was the cause, his clenched fist, the effect! This right hand, from this day forward, would become his fourth self-created Divine Ability!

The Imprint of Karma!