Wang Lin faltered, turning to meet the gaze of the Third Consort. In the eyes of this woman of the Minqiong Cape, he saw a sincerity and a resolute determination, a feeling that resonated deep within him.

His icy demeanor softened slightly. With his astute mind, Wang Lin now understood that she truly intended to aid him. Memories of their time together within the ancient tomb resurfaced, and he fell silent, his gaze lingering on the jade bracelet adorning her wrist.

“What is your price?” Wang Lin inquired, his voice measured.

“No price. You helped me, and now I shall return the favor,” the Third Consort replied softly.

Hearing her words, a peculiar expression flickered across Wang Lin’s face. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke calmly, “The matter of those years was but a trifle. You need not concern yourself with it.”

“You helped me, therefore I will help you!” the Third Consort declared, lifting her head to meet his eyes. In that instant, her beauty seemed to possess a unique and captivating charm.

“Yet, I have no intention of entering that peak,” Wang Lin said, a rare smile gracing his lips.

The Third Consort paused, at a loss for words.

“What is your true name?” Wang Lin asked, glancing at the distant sky, a glint of cold light flashing in his eyes.

“Tang Shan…” she hesitated, then spoke softly.

“Open your Seven Golden Gates and stand back!” Wang Lin’s voice turned suddenly cold as he stared into the distance.

Tang Shan’s eyes sharpened. Her cultivation was considerable, and she immediately sensed the anomaly. Without hesitation, she obeyed Wang Lin’s command. With a wave of her hand, golden light enveloped her, and seven rotating, ethereal gates materialized around her.

From the horizon, a streak of light hurtled towards them. Within the radiant trail, a massive stone platform materialized, upon which stood a young man clad in azure robes.

Wang Lin’s gaze locked with the youth’s, their eyes meeting in a silent clash that resonated within their souls. It was as if their gazes were spells, striking at each other’s very being.

Wang Lin remained motionless, uttering a cold snort.

The young man, however, stumbled back slightly, his eyes burning with a fervent battle lust as he regarded Wang Lin.

“Wang Lin! I have finally caught up to you. I am Yun Yifeng. Our battle on the Five Planets was too brief, not nearly satisfying enough. Today, do you dare face me without trickery or the use of the Li Guang Bow, in a fair and honorable fight?” The streak of light dissipated, leaving the massive stone platform suspended in the air. Yun Yifeng’s azure robes fluttered as he stood upon it, his eyes solely focused on Wang Lin.

“If you can defeat me, I shall cede all authority within the core of this cavern to you!” Yun Yifeng declared, stepping forward from the platform to land a hundred paces from Wang Lin. In his eyes, Tang Shan was nonexistent; only Wang Lin held his attention.

Gazing intently at Yun Yifeng, Wang Lin’s eyes filled with a chilling light. He was in need of a powerful soul for a sacrificial offering, and this arrival saved him the trouble of searching. However, the man’s cultivation was limited; his soul alone would likely not suffice.

Years ago, on the Five Planets, they had been evenly matched. Yet, that was after Wang Lin had broken through the Five Elements formation, his body bearing slight injuries. Moreover, Wang Lin’s Tear the Heavens technique was incomplete then. Now, he stood at the peak of his cultivation, possessing the left hand of Ye Mo, granting him mastery of the Tear the Heavens technique, whose power was now immense.

Wang Lin did not hold Yun Yifeng in high regard.

However, the promise of absolute obedience should he be victorious stirred something within Wang Lin’s heart.

“Words are cheap,” Wang Lin stated slowly.

Yun Yifeng’s eyes flashed. He raised his right hand, striking his forehead, and a drop of blood materialized, a testament to his vow. He flicked it towards Wang Lin.

As Wang Lin caught the blood, examining it with focused intent, Yun Yifeng’s eyes gleamed with malice. He brandished a long blade from his sleeve, and with a swift step, he unleashed a powerful strike upon Wang Lin.

The air thrummed with energy as the blade descended, drawing a radiant arc, coalescing the power of heaven and earth into a devastating blow aimed directly at Wang Lin.

In that very instant, with a cold snort, Wang Lin moved. His right hand clenched into a fist, and with a thunderous roar within his body, the power of the Dao Ancient surged, converging upon his fist as he launched it towards Yun Yifeng!

The heavens and earth shifted beneath the might of his punch. The sky above twisted and contorted as if about to collapse. Wang Lin’s fist struck the void, and the phantom image of a Dao Ancient emerged, hurtling toward Yun Yifeng’s descending blade.

In a blinding flash, fist and blade collided, erupting in a deafening roar. The long blade shattered, its fragments flying wildly. Wang Lin’s fist image, too, fragmented and dissipated.

Yun Yifeng retreated a hundred paces, laughing wildly as his hair streamed in the wind. He raised his right hand, flinging it forward, and a patch of darkness materialized before him, forming a cloud of black mist. He plunged his hand into the mist, seizing another long blade, and as he swung it at Wang Lin, he thrust his hand back into the mist.

In the blink of an eye, Yun Yifeng drew seven long blades from the mist, each stroke connecting with the last, forming a tempestuous wave of blade energy imbued with a formidable power, all bearing down upon Wang Lin.

“Eight Blade Severing Soul!” Yun Yifeng roared. With a flicker, seven overlapping afterimages of himself materialized, each wielding a blade and striking as one, forming a straight line of devastating force.

From afar, the seven blades and seven bodies, connected as they were, seemed to form an illusory eighth blade! Two bodies as the hilt, four as the blade itself, and one as the very tip!

The heavens and earth warped, engulfed in a gathering darkness, as if, in that instant, only Yun Yifeng’s ultimate technique remained!

As the eight blades approached, Wang Lin’s expression remained unchanged. He raised both hands and tore at the sky before him!

Beneath his tearing grasp, a pair of solid, massive hands materialized in the void. Rough skin covered the arms, adorned with countless shimmering rune marks, revealing them to be the arms of Ye Mo.
With a surge of power, Wang Lin summoned forth two spectral arms. These ethereal limbs, grasping the very fabric of the void, tore outward with a deafening roar. The heavens themselves split asunder, revealing a chasm that stretched from the earth to the sky, a gaping maw of annihilation.

From afar, it appeared as if the world before Wang Lin was collapsing in on itself. A breath of ancient ruin wafted from the fissure, imbued with a terrifying aura of obliteration. This cataclysmic force collided with the eight illusory blades, and with a resounding boom, one of Yun Yifeng’s manifested bodies, along with its accompanying blade, shattered into nothingness.

Then followed a second, a third, and a fourth, each body and blade dissolving in thunderous explosions.

“Honor, you say? Wang will not even deign to use a binding spell! You desire honor, I shall grant it!” Wang Lin’s voice, cold as the void, cut through the din of the collapsing reality.

As the last word left his lips, his hands tore once more, rending the link between heaven and earth before him. The cacophony was immense. Yun Yifeng’s fifth, sixth, and seventh bodies crumbled within this tear. With a stifled groan, each of these shattered forms released a wisp of smoke, which converged in the distant sky, coalescing into Yun Yifeng’s true self.

He coughed blood, his face ashen, and stumbled back, his gaze fixed on Wang Lin with a fear that rivaled even the sight of Li Guang’s drawn bow.

“Was this battle honorable enough?” As Yun Yifeng retreated, the tear in the heavens slowly closed. Wang Lin stood amidst the fading chaos, his white hair dancing in the wind, his right hand clutching the sworn blood that Yun Yifeng had presented. He posed the question to the ashen figure before him.

Yun Yifeng remained silent, a bitter taste on his tongue, before offering a slow, defeated nod.

The instant his head inclined, the sworn blood in Wang Lin’s hand burst into a radiant crimson, then vanished into his palm, the oath sealed.

Yun Yifeng was, indeed, a man of principle. He had not sullied the blood oath with deceit, accepting his defeat with grace. Little did he know that this very action had spared him a gruesome fate. Had he attempted treachery, Wang Lin would have ended his life without hesitation, regardless of the time it would cost. But now, Wang Lin had a better option. He glanced at the distant sky, where he sensed three familiar auras rapidly approaching.

“Their arrival is opportune… perhaps I can use him to test that one…”

Just as the battle concluded, the misty peaks in the distance writhed with unnatural energy. The baleful visage of the bald head materialized once more, its roar tearing through the air, unleashing a gale of wind.

Wang Lin, his body radiating the aura of the Ancient Dao, retreated a hundred paces to resist the onslaught. Tang Shan, having witnessed the preceding battle, steeled her resolve and followed close behind.

As the roar echoed through the heavens, the distant sky twisted violently, and a vague figure stepped into existence.

“Yun Yifeng, kill him!” Wang Lin’s eyes gleamed with cold fury. He raised his right hand and seized the air, summoning forth the Blood Sword in a flash of crimson. The blade shrieked through the sky, hurtling towards the approaching figure.

Before the indistinct form, a nascent sun materialized, casting forth blinding rays that met the Blood Sword in a cataclysmic collision. The vague silhouette stumbled back a step, solidifying into the figure of the Sovereign.

The moment his form took shape, Yun Yifeng, gritting his teeth, swallowed several pills and charged forward, unleashing the Eight-Blade Body Severing technique once more. The eight illusory figures linked together, forming a strike capable of cleaving the very sky, aimed directly at the Sovereign.

And Tang Shan, without hesitation, weaved a series of hand seals, summoning seven golden gates to shield Yun Yifeng, and another seven to protect Wang Lin.

“A protective art!” Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed.

The vast majority of magical arts were geared toward offense, and even protective spells were typically self-directed. To possess an art that could be cast upon others was exceedingly rare. In all his life, Wang Lin had never before witnessed a protective spell that could be bestowed upon another.

Tang Shan’s Heavenly Gate Sect, hailing from the Immortal Astral Continent, was but a minor sect, not counted amongst the Nine Sects and Thirteen Houses. Yet, it enjoyed a degree of fame due to its unique focus: protective arts that could be cast upon others.