From the fractured soul of War Old Ghost, emanated the iridescent essence of the Seven-Hued Soul. His tattered cloak billowed, cradling his spectral form as his hands moved in a frantic dance, meeting the gargantuan fists born of gold heaven and obsidian earth.

A thunderous roar echoed through the realm, a testament to War Old Ghost’s formidable might. Even without the spectral influence, he was a master of the Xuan Tribulation, a hair’s breadth from transcending into the Empty Tribulation – a being of unparalleled power.

But he was chosen, a vessel for the Seven-Hued Soul. The union elevated his strength, drawing him ever closer to the celestial heights of a Seven-Hued Immortal!

Now, soul and body divided, the Seven-Hued Soul unleashed its fury. With sweeping arms, the very heavens shuddered. The golden arm, forged from the sky itself, shattered into a thousand glittering shards. Simultaneously, the obsidian hand, sculpted from the earth’s core, crumbled under the immense pressure.

Even the ancient Qin Seal of Blue Dream Daoist, designed to bind and restrain, dissipated like smoke in the face of the cataclysmic shockwave.

Blue Dream Daoist coughed crimson ichor, the ancient Qin beside him thrumming with mortal wounds. Undeterred, he plucked at the strings once more, weaving two strands of binding energy towards the Seven-Hued Soul and War Old Ghost.

Even the venerable Elder Ma suffered. His own arcane arts shattered, he endured the Seven-Hued Soul’s backlash. Blood trickled from his lips as he stumbled back countless paces. Yet, gritting his teeth, he reversed his momentum, charging back into the fray.

As War Old Ghost and the Seven-Hued Soul’s powers collided, War Old Ghost blurred, heading towards the battle between the Five Planet cultivators, the Black Tortoise, and the Vermillion Bird war generals.

It became clear that an accord had been struck between War Old Ghost and the legendary creatures. Whether driven by loyalty or grim necessity, they saw War Old Ghost as the only path to survival, perhaps even believing he would ascend as the next Seven-Hued Immortal!

War Old Ghost arrived in a blink, his sleeve unleashing two explosive runes of *War* towards the Five Planet cultivators. They detonated, sending the two men flying backward, spitting blood.

A terrifying aura of battle prowess erupted from War Old Ghost. He was the creator of the *War* word talismans, the master of its very essence. Had he not merged with the Seven-Hued Soul, diluting his warrior spirit, he would never have hesitated.

Now, with body and soul separated, the corrupting influence diminished. War Old Ghost was reclaiming his former, brutal dominance!

The dominance of War!

“You two, hasten to the entrance! Slay Wang Lin!” War Old Ghost commanded, flinging his sleeve. Black Tortoise and Vermillion Bird, empowered by his force, hurtled towards the chasm formed by the mountain’s collapse.

Turning, War Old Ghost faced Elder Ma. Their eyes met, a silent explosion echoing in their hearts. Bodies trembling, they engaged in a brutal dance of death.

Blue Dream Daoist felt desperation gnaw at his heart, but his focus remained fixed on the ancient Qin. He channeled every ounce of his being into its music, imprisoning the Seven-Hued Soul and hindering War Old Ghost, crafting a deadly trap. He had no power to stop the Black Tortoise and Vermillion Bird as they neared the entrance, poised to disrupt Wang Lin.

Tang Shan, though wounded, stumbled forward, desperate to intercept the war generals.

Not far away, Tosen, bound by three *War* talismans, roared, shattering the weakened restraints with a single, earth-shattering blow. He too, lunged towards Black Tortoise and Vermillion Bird.

Yet, they were too slow. The war generals approached the chasm’s edge, ready to descend, when a sudden, earth-shattering event unfolded.

Black Tortoise, the faster of the two, was a mere three paces from the opening. Then, a deafening *thump-thump* resonated in his ears, each beat a thunderclap against his mind, causing his own heart to erupt in agonizing palpitations.

The sudden, violent throbbing sent shards of pain through his being. His ears rang, his heart felt as though a phantom hand grasped and squeezed, threatening to crush it!

Black Tortoise cried out in agony, his advance halted. Just as he began to recoil, a jet-black hand appeared from nowhere, pressing firmly against his chest, over his heart.

With a sickening *boom*, Black Tortoise spat blood as he was thrown back, crashing into Vermillion Bird.

Startled, Vermillion Bird also heard the disjointed heartbeat. The chaotic rhythm brought a searing pain, draining the color from his face. Without hesitation, he retreated.

But in that instant, a piercing shriek, filled with savage hunger and unbridled bloodlust, echoed from the entrance. A dark blur flashed before Vermillion Bird.

The general caught only a glimpse of the shadowy form before he coughed blood, hurled back by the impact.

The shadow remained latched onto Vermillion Bird, clinging to him as they flew. With a guttural snarl, it sank its teeth into Vermillion Bird’s neck.

Vermillion Bird screamed, a sound of pure horror. His body withered rapidly, a torrent of blood drained by the shadow. It happened in a heartbeat, too fast for the eye to follow. As Vermillion Bird’s lifeless body hung in the air, the shadow lifted its head, planting its feet on the general’s chest to launch itself skyward.

It was the Slave of Yi Si!

This unforeseen event brought Tang Shan and Tosen to an abrupt halt, drawing the attention of Blue Dream Daoist, Elder Ma, War Old Ghost, and the Seven-Hued Soul.
Under the hushed gaze of the assembled, Wang Lin’s form coalesced at the threshold to the final tier, a spectral birth that drew gasps from every throat. His visage was utterly transformed.

He still wore the white robes, yet they were now a tapestry of crimson, each stain a stark testament to trials endured. His hair, once a pristine snow, cascaded wildly, a tangled waterfall of white against his shoulders.

But it was upon his exposed skin that the true metamorphosis was etched. An intricate network of runes, pulsing with an inner light, crawled across his flesh, imbuing him with an aura of immeasurable age. His face, too, was a canvas of arcane symbols, lending a rough-hewn quality to his features. But it was his eyes that held the most potent transformation: twin pools of molten silver, reflecting a cold and pitiless gaze, radiating a chilling wave of killing intent.

Torsen, the ancient dragon mage, recoiled, his eyes widening in disbelief. For upon Wang Lin’s brow, nine star-points swirled in a hypnotic vortex, and nine fell stars danced within his right eye. But it was his left eye that truly disturbed him, for there, only eight stars flickered, and from its depths, a crimson tear traced a path down his cheek, staining his pristine robe.

“You… you have claimed the complete legacy of Ye Mo!” croaked the Battle Wraith, a tremor of unease rattling his spectral form. He felt a primal fear emanating from Wang Lin, a sense of impending doom that chilled him to his very core.

He was not alone. Each soul that met Wang Lin’s silver gaze was thrown into disarray. The venerable Blue Dream Daoist fared somewhat better, a kinship with his apprentice easing the blow, yet the old man named Ma faltered, his mind reeling from the sheer power emanating from the figure before him.

“Silver eyes! Legends speak of the Immortal Ancestor’s descent in nine cycles and three phases, the zenith of light and the abyss of darkness being but one phase! And further whispers claim this same transformation marked the arrival of the Ancient Clan’s First Ancestor, three phases of immortality, nine cycles of the ancient blood! I have heard of the silver eyes, the golden body, being the first two cycles! How can this be? Wang Lin has only inherited Ye Mo’s power, yet… even Ye Mo never possessed such eyes!”

As shock rippled through the assembled, the enigmatic Xuan Luo watched from the shadows. His eyes gleamed with a strange excitement, his heart aflame with the same fervor it had held when he had first glimpsed those silver orbs within the depths of the ancient tomb.

“The Ancient Ancestor’s blood… it has granted him the first cycle: the silver eyes!”

Amid the collective awe, Wang Lin’s gaze swept across the scene, lingering for a moment upon Xuan Luo, as if seeing something hidden to all others. Then, his silver gaze settled upon the seven-hued soul, shrouded in tattered cloaks, only the twin eyes visible. With a deliberate motion, Wang Lin raised a hand and pointed.

At his command, a primal rhythm echoed through the chamber, the thunderous beat of a heart. The sound emanated from Wang Lin’s very core, resonating within his chest before bursting forth to fill the cavern, shaking the very stones.

The Battle Wraith recoiled. With a desperate surge, he plunged towards the seven-hued soul, merging his essence with its own. In Wang Lin’s silver eyes, they became one.

Wang Lin made no move to stop him, for there was no need. As the two coalesced, the wraith was enveloped by a swirling aura of seven colors, obscuring the sky itself. Laughing with maniacal glee, the fused entity charged at Wang Lin, but before Blue Dream and the old man Ma could intervene, Wang Lin spoke, his voice calm amidst the tempestuous pounding of his heart.

“Venerable elders, I thank you for your aid, but this battle is mine.”

Wang Lin recognized the lingering injuries upon his benefactors and desired to test the extent of his newfound power. As the words left his lips, the beating of his heart intensified, reaching a crescendo that shattered the very air! The earth-shattering sound crashed against the Battle Wraith, hammering against his mind, focusing all its force upon his heart.

The wraith stumbled, a searing agony erupting within his chest. His heart stuttered, threatening to rip itself asunder. “What sorcery is this?” he gasped, clutching at his breast, desperate to quell the violent tremors.