Since arriving at this forsaken altar, Wang Lin had possessed scant moments for proper observation. His gaze, moreover, was repeatedly drawn to the disembodied arm that once adorned its surface. Even his cautious nature, which compelled him to sweep the altar with his spiritual sense, had revealed no discernible peculiarity.

But now, having fused with the blood of the Ancient Ancestor, especially that single, potent drop of soul-blood, and absorbing the right arm of Ye Mo, he unwittingly, in the wake of the power to tear the heavens, lifted a sliver of the altar’s veil, setting its surface to ripple with unseen energies. This sudden shift sent a flash of keen awareness through Wang Lin’s eyes.

“Why would such an altar be situated here? And why would Ye Mo’s right arm be offered as sacrifice upon it?” Wang Lin mused, his gaze intensely studying the stone before him.

The altar was deceptively plain, seemingly devoid of any notable characteristic. Had it not been for the lingering ripples of energy that now danced upon its surface, one might never suspect anything unusual about it.

As the residual energies from Wang Lin’s Heaven-Rending technique dissipated, so too did the ripples on the altar’s surface gradually subside, until at last, it returned to its prior state of unsettling tranquility.

Wang Lin rose to his feet, his form blurring as he departed the altar’s immediate vicinity. At the same moment, his avatar, situated at a distance, snapped open its eyes from a meditative pose and strode forth, merging back with Wang Lin’s original self.

The eerie fusion of dual forms proceeded gradually, until the avatar and original were once more a single being.

Testing his limbs, Wang Lin found no ill effects from the merging. He turned his attention once more to the altar. After a long, silent moment, a frigid glint ignited within his eyes. He raised his hands, fingers weaving a complex series of hand seals, summoning forth an array of restrictions, their arcane symbols shimmering into existence. Soon, nearly a million such seals filled the air before him, densely packed and exuding an unearthly glow.

With a flick of his right hand, this vast accumulation of power surged forward, hurtling toward the altar, swirling around it in a vortex of spectral light, each restriction descending and imprinting itself upon the stone.

Each succeeding seal that found its mark caused the altar to shudder subtly. As more and more restrictions bound themselves to the ancient stone, the tremors intensified, until at last, a resounding boom echoed forth, as if the altar were on the verge of utter collapse.

Coupled with the violent tremors, hairline fractures began to spiderweb across the altar’s surface. Soon, small shards of stone began to break free, crumbling into dust that scattered upon the winds.

Wang Lin, his eyes narrowed in caution, continued to weave more restrictive seals, infusing them into the ever-growing perimeter around the altar. He applied this relentless pressure in an effort to amplify the tremors, causing even more fragments of stone to break free and fall away.

After the span of half an incense stick, the altar was enveloped in a swirling cloud of pulverized stone, creating a nebulous mist that obscured its form. The altar had noticeably shrunk in size, diminished by the relentless erosion, and the network of cracks upon its surface continued to grow.

“The strangeness of this altar likely resides within… yet an indistinct force within alters any spiritual sense that attempts to penetrate, obscuring the true nature.” Wang Lin muttered, fixing his gaze upon the shrinking altar. Once more, he unleashed nearly a million restrictive seals, the endless stream encircling and pressing inward. Under this relentless assault, the altar began to crumble at an accelerated rate, layer after layer collapsing until only half of its original size remained.

It was then, in a fleeting moment as the altar was utterly riddled with cracks, that one such fissure seemed to extend deeper, penetrating the innermost core. Instantly, a surge of crimson light erupted from this opening, radiating outward in a fan-like pattern, as though a hidden gem, long buried beneath layers of rock and earth, had finally been exposed to the light of day.

Wang Lin’s eyes snapped wide, his gaze locked onto the crimson crack. His hands moved with speed, manipulating the countless restrictions that surrounded the altar, sending them spiraling inward toward the newly revealed fissure.

Yet, as the seals neared their target, a second burst of crimson light emanated from another crack nearby. Then a third, a fourth, a fifth… until more than a dozen rays of crimson energy pierced the air. As these rays intertwined, waves of crimson energy pulsed outwards, and the restrictive seals, upon contacting this radiant energy, hissed and crackled, vanishing like snowflakes upon burning coals.

All of this occurred in the blink of an eye. In a heartbeat, every single restrictive seal had been obliterated by the crimson light, as though they were natural enemies.

Wang Lin stared intently at the altar, which was now surrounded by a swirling aura of crimson light and reduced to less than half its original size. A knowing gleam slowly manifested within his eyes.

“This crimson light… familiar…” he murmured, his thoughts racing. “This altar… Could it be…?” A shock reverberated through Wang Lin’s mind. As the crimson waves from the altar rippled outward, approaching his position, Wang Lin, without hesitation, raised his right hand and clenched it into a fist, violently pulling it downwards.

Instantly, behind him, the spectral form of Ye Mo’s colossal arm materialized, mirroring his action, seizing the void before them.

“Heaven-Rending!” Wang Lin roared, channeling all of the power within Ye Mo’s right arm, augmented by the combined energies of his own Eight-Star Ancient God, Ancient Demon, and Ancient Devil bloodlines.

This single act possessed the power to split the very heavens!

A deafening roar filled the air, shaking the very foundations of existence. The crimson waves emanating from the altar twisted and contorted, seemingly ripped apart before Wang Lin as they shattered into nothingness.

Simultaneously, the network of cracks that riddled the altar exploded outward. Under the force of Wang Lin’s Heaven-Rending technique, the fissures disintegrated, causing large sections of the stone to crumble. The escaping rays of crimson light seemed to struggle in resistance, but they were utterly helpless to prevent the inevitable.

The continuous cacophony of explosions echoed throughout the surrounding space as the altar crumbled completely, reducing it to a swirling vortex of shattered stone. When the dust finally settled, Wang Lin found himself facing a pulsating, octagonal pool filled with crimson liquid, radiating an intense, blinding light!

An aura, familiar to Wang Lin, now emanated unobstructed from the octagonal pool, filling Wang Lin with elation.

“It is!”

In the Ancient Starry Sky, there existed a clan known as the Feng Mie, the Seal Extinguishers. They possessed a technique known as the Three Lives! The practice of this art required the complete altar of the Feng Mie clan. However, for reasons lost to time, this altar had been shattered into three pieces, scattered across the vast cosmos, their final resting places unknown.

Through a series of fortunate circumstances, Wang Lin had acquired the Blood Pavilion of the Kun Xu Blood Ancestor, one of the three fragmented altars! Learning of the Three Lives technique, he then obtained a second altar from an Ancient Devil within Luo Tian.

As for the third altar, Wang Lin had sought it relentlessly, but without success. Yet, upon witnessing the crimson light emanating from the crumbling stone, a deafening realization crashed through his mind, solidifying his long-held suspicion.

Now, he was certain. The crimson pool bore the exact same aura as the Blood Pavilion and the other altar – the unmistakable essence of the Feng Mie clan!

“The Three Lives Technique!! To find the final altar at this moment… if I master this, my overall strength will increase exponentially!” Wang Lin’s heart hammered within his chest. The Three Lives technique had captivated him for years. To behold the final piece of the puzzle now sent a wave of unadulterated joy surging through him.

Without hesitation, Wang Lin raised his right hand and waved it forward. Immediately, the altar from the Ancient Devil of Luo Tian materialized before him, followed swiftly by the Blood Pavilion of the Blood Ancestor!

Within that Blood Pavilion resided a woman who had once been Wang Lin’s acquaintance. Over the years, her physical form had long since faded within the Blood Pavilion, leaving only a wisp of her soul behind.

The three fragmented altars now stood together in the starry sky, the crimson light emanating from each intermingling, their identical essences resonating in perfect harmony.

Wang Lin had obtained the method for cultivating the Three Lives technique from the memories of a Feng Mie clan woman within the Dao Ancient Tomb. He paused for a brief moment to gather his thoughts before settling into a meditative pose.

“The Feng Mie clan’s Three Lives technique… its cultivation carries risks… but weighed against the benefits of success, these dangers are worthwhile!” Wang Lin reached out into the void and grasped a glowing totem, upon which clung dried, brownish blood. This was the Feng Mie clan totem! The very totem Wang Lin had forcefully extracted from the brow of the Feng Mie woman who sought his death within the Dao Ancient Tomb!

Gazing at the totem in his hand, Wang Lin abruptly slammed it onto his own forehead. The moment it made contact, a searing heat erupted from his brow. The Feng Mie clan totem seemed to sprout countless tendrils, digging into his skin, bonding tightly with his physical form.

This pain was nothing to Wang Lin, who didn’t even flinch. Remaining impassive, he bit his tongue, expelling a mouthful of blood as he continued to weave hand seals.

“With the mark as a key, I open the Underworld. I possess the Feng Mie clan totem, and summon the spirits of the Feng Mie clan, forever bound within heaven and earth. Transform into the Feng Ming Blade! Rend three souls! Rend three spirits! Rend three bodies!”

As the words left Wang Lin’s lips, the blood he had spat forth coalesced into a single, writhing mass. At the same time, the three Feng Mie clan altars pulsed with crimson light, which was instantly absorbed by the writhing blood.

Slowly, the mass of blood transformed into the form of a long blade. The blade was not large, barely reaching a length of one zhang, and appeared indistinct, with superimposed images swirling within. Prolonged viewing of the blade induced a sense of disorientation.

Using his spiritual sense, Wang Lin saw that the blade was, in reality, not one blade, but three, overlapping, each emitting a ghostly presence.

“Rend three souls!” Wang Lin roared.

The Feng Ming Blade rose abruptly, noiselessly descending upon Wang Lin’s head.

The blade pierced Wang Lin’s skull, passing directly through his body and out the other side!

Wang Lin’s body shuddered violently, his face paling instantly. His soul was engulfed by unimaginable pain, on the verge of collapse, but he forced himself to endure. Slowly, two wisps of soul emerged from the crown of Wang Lin’s head!

However, at the moment the blade passed through Wang Lin’s body, it appeared unable to withstand the sheer power of Wang Lin’s soul and shattered! The three superimposed blades dissolved, leaving only spectral echoes!

Wang Lin’s soul, having fused with the Ancient Ancestor’s soul-blood, had become a Dao Ancient soul. It was far beyond the capabilities of the Feng Ming Blade to cleave it. Had the blade not been formed from Wang Lin’s own blood, it would have been utterly incapable of harming his soul.

Even now, having only managed to sever three wisps of Wang Lin’s soul, the blade could not withstand the backlash and shattered completely, vanishing from existence, never to be re-formed.