Lord Dao, the Third Step cultivator, trembled. The vision he’d just witnessed struck a chord of terror deep within his soul. He had heard tales of Wang Lin, yet dismissed them as exaggerations. When he learned the esteemed Elders had slain Wang Lin with illusions, Dao secretly thought them to be overcautious.

But now, confronted with the impossible, the undeniable truth slammed into him. A single arrow had extinguished the life of a revered Elder! Disbelief warred with a primal fear, one that dwarfed all he had ever known.

Beneath Wang Lin’s gaze, Dao’s heart hammered in his chest. The Lord’s eyes were twin blades, each glance cleaving through his being. He stumbled back, his face drained of all color.

The words that fell from Wang Lin’s lips echoed like a death knell, a sound that momentarily emptied his mind. As merely a Nirvana Shatterer, the chasm between them felt like standing at the foot of a mountain, gazing upon its insurmountable peak.

Regret washed over him, a tidal wave threatening to drown him in its depths. He should never have meddled with the woman, Bing Mei. The wanton thoughts he dared harbor toward the Immortal’s beloved were the seeds of his own demise.

Yet, even in the face of oblivion, a sliver of reason remained. He knew death was all but certain, and if there were any hope, any chance at all, it resided with Bing Mei.

The moment Wang Lin spoke, Dao acted, driven by a desperate instinct to survive. He surged toward Bing Mei, a mere ten paces away, his eyes blazing with a manic light.

He would seize her, using her as a shield, a bargaining chip for his life. It was his last, his only hope.

Ten paces meant nothing to a Third Step cultivator. But that was before Wang Lin. Under his gaze, such a feat became an impossibility. Before he could close the distance, Bing Mei looked at his approach. A cold, dismissive light burned in her beautiful eyes.

Wang Lin moved. His speed defied comprehension, eclipsing even Dao’s wildest imaginings. While his afterimage still lingered where he stood, Wang Lin materialized before Bing Mei, his right hand extended in a swift grab.

It was as if Dao had willingly offered himself. Wang Lin’s fingers closed around his wrist.

“You seek death,” Wang Lin hissed, his voice a frozen blade. He took a step forward, dragging Dao with him, and with a furious roar swung the man. Dao was helpless to resist, his body lifted and hurled toward the earth below.

The ground trembled as Dao crashed into it, his scream echoing through the heavens. Only then did the assembled cultivators realize what was happening.

Before Dao could recover, Wang Lin yanked him back into the air, releasing his grip to send him hurtling toward the heavens. A murderous glint ignited in Wang Lin’s eyes. Bing Mei may not be his love, but she was the mother of Wang Ping. Dao’s lecherous thoughts were an insult that would not be tolerated.

He ascended in a blink, overtaking Dao. His right hand shot out, striking Dao in the chest. A surge of power ripped through the cultivator’s body and erupted within his right arm, tearing it to pieces in an explosion of blood and flesh.

Wang Lin did not relent. Another strike followed, reducing Dao’s left arm to a mangled ruin.

Stripped of his limbs, Dao howled in torment. He was utterly defenseless against Wang Lin, and the other cultivators, still reeling from the power of the arrow, dared not intervene.

Even if they did, it would be too late.

With blinding speed, Wang Lin’s fingers danced across Dao’s body, targeting his legs. Each touch brought another explosion of blood and bone. Finally, with a killing strike, Wang Lin slammed his palm against Dao’s crown.

Crushing sounds resonated within Dao’s body. He spewed blood, his eyes losing their light. His scream became a feeble rasp.

Then, with a shudder, his body detonated, scattering blood and gore. Yet not a single drop touched Wang Lin. With a flick of his sleeve, he reversed the flow, sending the remains cascading away.

Though his physical form was destroyed, Dao’s spirit remained, albeit battered and broken. It emerged from the carnage, dazed and confused, only to be seized by Wang Lin’s hand around its ethereal throat.

A final squeeze, and with a silent implosion, the Third Step Nirvana Shatterer was extinguished forever.

The gruesome spectacle sent shivers down the spines of the onlookers, who recoiled in terror. Even the hulking warrior beside Hua Qingshui felt a prickle of fear. He turned to flee.

But as he retreated, Wang Lin spun around, his bloodshot eyes locking onto the warrior. The man froze, then bolted away even faster.

“You dared harm my brother!” Wang Lin roared, his voice laced with fury. He blurred into motion, appearing behind the fleeing warrior. His right hand shot out, striking the man’s back.

The warrior cried out in defiance, spinning around to meet the attack. With a savage roar, he unleashed a wave of blood-infused wind and countless red lightning orbs. The resulting storm threatened to devour everything in its path.

“Wind origin and nascent thunder origin, impressive!” Wang Lin said, his gaze unwavering. He thrust his hand into the heart of the storm. His fingers curled inward, crushing the tempest with effortless ease.

The storm shattered. The thunder trembled. Wang Lin, the progenitor of thunder, his origin complete, had absolute dominion over the power that defied the world.

“Begone!” Wang Lin roared. The remaining lightning orbs scattered, fleeing in all directions.

Wind and thunder, powerless before Wang Lin, crumbled before his will. Ignoring the carnage he had wrought, Wang Lin strode forward, appearing before the warrior. Despair consumed him.

With casual grace, Wang Lin raised his hand, his first two fingers forming a sword. He flicked the blade-like fingers and struck the man’s neck.

“You dared harm my brother. Suffer now!” he hissed. At the point of contact, the man’s veins bulged. His blood surged, drawn to Wang Lin’s touch, leaving his skin ashen and lifeless. A grotesque bulge formed on his neck, pulsating with trapped blood.

Then, with a gruesome pop, the bulge erupted, spewing forth a torrent of blood, draining the warrior’s body until not a drop remained.

The agony was indescribable, a torment that even hardened cultivators could scarcely endure.

But it was not over. The draining force persisted, now drawing upon the man’s very life force. Wisps of white energy emanated from his wound. The warrior withered, becoming little more than a living skeleton.

His eyes protruded, his face contorted in a grotesque mask of pain. Yet his spirit was gone, leaving behind only an empty husk.

The unnatural force still did not abate. The skeleton trembled, the bones began to liquefy. The dissolving marrow, along with the man’s fading spirit, were drawn toward Wang Lin’s hand.

The sight sent shivers down the spines of those who bore witness. They watched as a Third Step Nirvana Shatterer was reduced to nothing, his essence gathered into a hazy orb in Wang Lin’s palm.

This orb, this mist of nothingness, was all that remained of the once-powerful warrior.

Clutching the ethereal sphere, Wang Lin reappeared before Qingshui, his former brother. He reached down and pressed his left hand against Qingshui’s head.

Qingshui convulsed, his eyes snapping open. Seven streams of black energy erupted from his orifices, writhing like serpents, desperate to escape Wang Lin’s wrath.

The seven black streaks are forced to leave Qingshui’s body. Though his eyes remained clouded, the aura of death around him lessened, replaced by a fragile spark of life.

Having purged the poison, Wang Lin slammed the orb of the vanquished warrior into Qingshui’s body.

“Absorbing this essence will hasten your recovery,” Wang Lin said, his voice ringing with power.

He turned away from the woman in pink beside Qingshui, her eyes fixed on him in awe, and strode back towards the stars.