Across the void they came, war chariots draped in the hides of beasts unknown to this age, monstrous engines of destruction disguised as primordial terrors. Upon those hides, crimson glyphs pulsed with an unholy light, bathing the star-strewn abyss in an eerie, flickering glow.

But these were not the only horrors on the march. A deafening roar shattered the silence of the cosmos, and from the rear of the advancing horde, a colossal monolith emerged. Borne upon the shoulders of thousands of tormented souls, it lumbered forward from the infinite darkness.

This stone, a leviathan of untold ages, radiated an aura of ancient sorrow. Most chilling of all were the nine iron chains that snaked from its surface, each shackled to a colossal coffin. These sepulchers, larger than any warship, swayed ominously, resembling grotesque, clawed leviathans suspended in the void.

This was the resurgent might of the Outer Realm, the first wave of its wrath unleashed against Wang Lin’s dimensional fortress. From the graveyard of fallen warriors in the Outer Realm’s primordial starfields, this force represented the limits of their gathered power.

Wang Lin, observing the feral faces of his enemies, felt a cold fury rise within him. Beside him, Xizi Feng, her face pale, watched the unfolding spectacle with a trembling heart.

Rising from his meditative posture, Wang Lin stood tall upon the Celestial Emperor’s Crucible, his white hair dancing in the cosmic winds.

“Xizi, continue warming the wine.” His voice was calm, and with a single step forward, he moved, his white robes flowing, exuding an aura of serene power.

Xizi Feng, her terror soothed by his gentle words, lifted her beautiful face, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. With a sweet smile, she nodded, a soft “Mmm” escaping her lips.

A thunderous clamor erupted as the ten thousand Outer Realm warriors halted a mere ten thousand zhang from the fortress. Knowing Wang Lin’s power and the might of his formation, they knelt, their hands forming intricate seals as they pierced their own brows.

With this act, the souls of the ten thousand warriors burst forth, a radiant tide that flooded the dark expanse, bathing the Outer Realm in an incandescent glow.

Alongside this spectral army stood five Grand Empyreans, the last bastions of the Outer Realm’s power save for a precious few. They had been held in reserve, guardians of the Outer Realm’s borders during the conflict within, but now, under the decree of the Grand Sovereign Council, they were forced to march, prepared to fight to the death.

They knelt in a line, understanding that even their combined might could not match Wang Lin’s god-like power. But with the aid of the ten thousand souls and the ancient arts bestowed by the Grand Sovereign Council, they believed they had a chance. Hands forming seals, each pressed upon the back of the one before them.

A cataclysmic force surged through the line, culminating in the first warrior.

The first warrior, an old man with snow-white hair, faced forward with grim determination. As the power of his four brethren crashed into him, his hair rose in the still void, and his eyes burned with unholy light.

“By my cultivation, by my blood, I invoke the ancient arts! I open the Way of Heaven, the Path of Annihilation!” he bellowed, raising his right hand, a beam of pure energy erupting skyward, solidifying into a gargantuan blade of impossible length.

The ten thousand souls converged upon the blade, imbuing it with unimaginable power, an aura of cosmic annihilation.

“Cleave!” the old man roared, sweeping his hand down towards Wang Lin’s fortress, the Three Origin Formation.

With his command, the colossal blade descended, a tempest of ten thousand souls, five Grand Empyreans, and the arcane energies of the ancients, hurtling towards the formation like the wrath of the gods.

As it fell, the blade swelled, expanding exponentially until it was an entity of immeasurable scale, poised to obliterate all that lay beneath.

Wang Lin stood within the formation, unmoved, watching the descending apocalypse without a flicker of hesitation.

In the span of a breath, the blade crashed upon the formation, a deafening roar echoing through the cosmos, sending ripples of power washing across the fortress.

The formation shuddered, humming with the strain, but remained unbroken. Beneath it, the million souls imprisoned within the formation howled in agony as they were forced to push the revolving wheel. Behind them, the valiant spirits of the Inner Realm, now part of the formation, emerged, wielding ethereal whips, lashing the tormented souls into a frenzy.

Driven by the pain, the souls screamed and pushed harder, driving the wheel forward, completing a single, agonizing revolution.

With that rotation, a surge of unimaginable power erupted from the formation, slamming into the blade, shattering it into fragments. The ten thousand souls scattered, wounded but not destroyed, while the five Grand Empyreans reeled back, pale and broken. Yet, the old man at the head of their line, blood trickling from his lips, gazed forward with unwavering resolve.

He formed new seals, pointing towards the heavens, his voice cracking in the void.

“Ten thousand souls, ten thousand warriors, merge your life force, your very existence! We, the ten thousand, sacrifice our all to unleash an ancient strike, to shatter this formation, to kill this man!” Blood poured from his lips, and the warriors behind him echoed his words, their faces twisted in grim determination.

At that moment, the physical bodies of the ten thousand warriors, their souls detached, began to hemorrhage. Young and old alike withered, their youth stolen in an instant, replaced by the stench of decay.

This strike, fueled by the very essence of ten thousand lives, would be unleashed with maximum power.

“When the heavens first opened, the world was shrouded in darkness, devoid of light and life! The Ancient Immortal Venerate descended, to create and nurture all living things! He summoned the primordial light to bathe the world!” the old man screamed, his voice breaking. “We, the ten thousand, offer our lives to invoke that light, recorded within the Ancient Edict! Light of creation, light of destruction, it can bring forth life, and it can obliterate spirit!”

As his words echoed, the ten thousand souls began to merge, becoming a churning miasma that blotted out the stars, enveloping the battlefield in impenetrable darkness.

The swirling mist began to rotate, faster and faster, until it became a massive vortex, a black hole leading to another realm.

A thunderous roar filled the void as a single beam of golden light pierced through the darkness of the vortex. As it emerged, the beam spread outwards, saturating the cosmos in its incandescent glory. Even the Three Origin Formation, empowered by Wang Lin’s own essence, seemed to falter, its rotation slowing, the tormented souls within screaming in agony as their forms began to dissolve.

Far beyond, in the depths of the Ancient Starfield, the Grand Sovereign watched, his form shimmering into existence. Though distant, he could faintly discern the tides of battle.

“The lives of these cave dwelling insects mean nothing. But this spell, fueled by the lives of ten thousand, would tax even my power. Let’s see if you have any arrows left in your quiver.”

Wang Lin, unmoved, watched as the golden light surged outwards, carrying the unmistakable aura of the Immortal Astral Continent, an aura he had felt before.

He raised his right hand, pointing towards the Outer Realm.

“Burning Realm Fire Umbrella! Unfurl, and obliterate!” In the void, amidst the encroaching golden light, a colossal, open fire umbrella materialized, pushing back the ethereal radiance like two opposing forces. With its emergence, a wave of apocalyptic flames spread outwards.

“Seven-Colored Dao, Essence of the World’s Transformation!” As the distorted image of the golden light and the crimson fire clashed, Wang Lin’s voice echoed, and seven rays of light – red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and violet – burst into existence, emerging from the void itself, coalescing into a single, shimmering Seven-Colored Spear.

“This ancient light seeks to rend the heavens? Then I shall shatter it with the Seven-Colored Spear! And the wounds it leaves behind shall be sealed by the Burning Realm Fire Umbrella! This light may create life, but it cannot erase Wang Lin!” The Fire Umbrella and the Seven-Colored Spear erupted with devastating power.

Wang Lin casually brushed his sleeve, stepping back towards Xizi Feng, picking up a wine jug from the small pot, and taking a long draught.

“The wine is not yet warm enough, Xizi. Continue warming it.”

“Mmm.”