A whisper of command escaped Wang Lin’s lips as his foot rose, a deliberate step toward the fourteenth tier. The instant his heel struck stone, the Essence Avatar at his back erupted in a sea of incandescent flames, surging into his very being. He shuddered, man and Avatar becoming one, and with renewed strength, he strode onward!

The fifteenth tier!

The heavens themselves seemed to rumble in response, and from within the Grand Soul Sect, countless cultivators watched with bated breath. They witnessed Wang Lin reach the fifteenth step, and then, defying all expectation, lift his foot again!

The sixteenth tier!

“Three remain…” Wang Lin’s voice echoed, laced with steel. “My will is as unyielding as the cosmos itself! By what right should I be forced to yield?” From the heart of his brow, the Essence of Illusion pulsed, releasing the Essence of Life and Death in a torrent of power.

Untainted by the restrictions of the Immortal Astral Continent, the Essence of Illusion surged, propelling Wang Lin onto the seventeenth tier!

“My will spans the realms, from the Caves of Immortality to this very continent! I am the first to emerge from the Caves! Even if the Soul Repository is guarded by the will of a Void Calamity cultivator, what gives you the right to command my retreat!” The Essences of Truth and Falsehood erupted within him, his form flickering like a mirage. With a decisive step, he planted his foot upon the eighteenth stair!

The sight sent tremors through the hearts of the Grand Soul Sect disciples. Even Yan Luan, watching from below, paled visibly.

Even the reclusive elders, long sequestered in their abodes, emerged to witness this audacious feat with their own eyes!

“My will defies even celestial tribulation! I snatched my destiny from the jaws of fate! I came to this Immortal Astral Continent not to submit, but to command! Not to obey, but to reach for the heavens themselves!” Wang Lin’s eyes blazed with incandescent light. The Essence of Karma exploded around him as he took another step, planting his foot on the nineteenth tier, ascending to the seventh level of the Grand Soul Sect’s Soul Repository!!

The instant his foot landed, the ethereal image above the Grand Soul Sect blazed with blinding light, then fell silent. Every disciple held their breath, their gaze fixed on the phantom, respect etched upon their faces.

Power, in any realm, commands respect. Wang Lin had proven with every step that he was worthy of the seventh level!

And those who had doubted him were silenced, their hearts thrumming with stunned disbelief.

“From this day forth,” a voice sighed from some unseen corner of the Grand Soul Sect, breaking the silence, “the seventh level of the Soul Repository will no longer be restricted to the Founder and the Five. Now, there is another…”

In his Azure Peak grotto, the Azure Ox Daoist remained seated, unmoving. But his eyes, usually calm, now held a flicker of concern.

“He… he has truly reached the seventh level… The Ancestor once foretold that he would reach this place in three years, the eighth in thirty, and the ninth in three hundred, bringing the Grand Soul Sect the greatest fortune!

But now… everything has changed…”

Within the seventh level of the Soul Repository, the moment Wang Lin’s foot settled, he whirled around, his gaze piercing the sixth level, where Yan Luan stood, ashen-faced. With a flick of his sleeve, the Blood Sword, which he had left behind, and Yan Luan’s azure parasol, both flew towards him.

“Yan Luan, this parasol is mine!”

Yan Luan instinctively reached for the parasol, but her pride forbade her. Hesitating, she watched as it and the Blood Sword reached Wang Lin’s side.

He sheathed the Blood Sword and grasped the azure parasol, ready to erase Yan Luan’s spiritual imprint and claim it as his own. But then, Yan Luan’s voice, cold and sharp, echoed from the sixth level.

“Wang Lin, will you gamble again?!”

Wang Lin’s eyes flickered. With a cold smile, he paused his attempt to erase her imprint and, holding the parasol aloft, said, “How would you propose we gamble?”

“I wager you cannot reach the eighth level! Do you dare accept the challenge?” Yan Luan materialized at the stairwell, but dared not ascend. Instead, she fixed her gaze upon Wang Lin.

Wang Lin hesitated, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

“If you lose, simply return the parasol! But if you win, I…” Yan Luan began, only to be cut short by Wang Lin.

“Why should I continue to gamble with you?” he said calmly, turning toward the seventh level, where fewer than thirty soul fragments drifted.

“Wang Lin!! If you win, I, Yan Luan, will give you this treasure!” Yan Luan’s jade hand flipped, revealing a small, purple gourd.

The moment the gourd appeared, a wave of spiritual energy emanated from it.

“This was the treasured artifact of the Ninth Ancestor, Luo Yunhai, obtained by me quite by accident. It contains the residual power of a billion souls he once gathered. Though damaged, it still holds thirty million souls within, enough to unleash a strike akin to a Void Calamity master’s!

It is the key to summoning the Ninth Ancestor through the Soul Guiding Summon. With this, you too can learn the Soul Guiding Art and call upon the Ninth Ancestor!

If you reach the eighth level, it is yours! Do you dare wager?!” Her voice, sharp and piercing, reverberated through the Soul Repository.

Wang Lin paused, his gaze drawn to the purple gourd. He sensed the potent spiritual energy emanating from it. Treasures were scarce, and to establish himself on this Immortal Astral Continent, he needed more than just his cultivation.

“With this, I would possess a weapon capable of threatening a Void Calamity cultivator…” His eyes scanned the stairwell leading to the eighth level.

The dust on those steps was thick, untouched for what seemed like an eternity. The seventh level held fragmented versions of the Soul Guiding Art and Illusion Techniques, but surely, the eighth level held more complete and potent versions.
“The stairs to the eighth tier… without wielding the might of my avatar, I fear they are nigh insurmountable…” Wang Lin’s brow furrowed, weighing the potential cost against the prize. Deep within his heart, he subtly reached out, seeking the faint tether to his distant doppelganger.

Below, on the sixth tier, Yan Luan paced, awaiting Wang Lin’s response. The silence gnawed at her; she fretted over his potential refusal, yet also pondered the impossible: could he truly ascend to the eighth tier?

“It should be impossible… that parasol meant much to me, to relinquish it so readily stings! The eighth tier… there dwells a will touched by the Void Tribulant’s power. That whelp, Wang Lin, surely suffered grievous wounds to cross the seventh tier. He cannot hope to conquer the eighth!”

As Yan Luan’s face betrayed her swirling thoughts, Wang Lin’s voice echoed down from above, shattering the silence.

“You seek a wager? Then let us wager!” His words rang with iron resolve. The gourd teeming with thirty million souls *would* be his. Furthermore, the connection to his avatar revealed a growth beyond his expectations. Even should he expend power to aid his true self, the avatar would scarcely be diminished.

The scales tipped. Wang Lin had made his decision.

Upon hearing his decree, a wave of doubt washed over Yan Luan, filling her with unexpected regret. She knew not why, but the resolute tone in Wang Lin’s voice sent a tremor of apprehension through her very being.

“This…?” Hesitation clouded her eyes.

“What? Do you falter? If so, then so be it. I shall simply erase the divine mark upon this azure parasol!” Wang Lin’s lips curled into a subtle smile. He held the parasol in his right hand, his left rising to obliterate the mark.

“Very well! I accept your wager! I shall not believe you can conquer both the seventh *and* eighth tiers in succession!” Yan Luan hissed, gritting her teeth.

Wang Lin roared with laughter, then whirled about, striding towards the staircase that led to the eighth tier. With each step, his consciousness tightened the bond with his distant avatar. This link, defying the Great Soul Gate’s every enchantment, bypassing the laws of the Immortal Astral Continent itself, surged unseen into Wang Lin’s being.

His eyes flashed with newfound power. Seven strides brought him to the foot of the staircase. He lifted his foot, stepping forward!

“Yan Luan, observe!”

The instant Wang Lin’s foot touched the first step, the countless disciples of the Great Soul Gate, preparing to disperse, felt a jolt that ripped through their very souls. Heads snapped skyward. Even the ancient masters, deep in secluded meditation, stirred, their expressions transformed by shock.

In the heavens above, the ethereal staircase, once fading, roared back into existence, larger, more imposing, radiating with a thousandfold intensity!

This staircase led to the eighth tier of the Soul Repository!

Upon its steps, Wang Lin’s figure materialized once more. The flowing white hair sent shivers down the spines of all who beheld it.

“He… he intends to enter the eighth tier?!”

“Such a sight is rare in centuries! To witness one storming through both the seventh and eighth tiers in one fell swoop!”

A cacophony of whispers erupted. The secluded elders, faces grave, stared intently. Within the Azure Peak, the Azure Bull Ancestor could no longer maintain his seated composure. He rose, his face a shifting mask of emotions, his very core trembling.

“He goes for the eighth tier! He entered the seventh a full three years early, a bizarre feat in itself! But to conquer the eighth… that defies predictions by decades! This…” The Azure Bull Ancestor could not discern whether this augured well or ill for the Great Soul Gate, but unlike the Old Ancestor’s calculated predictions, a chilling unease settled upon his heart.

Below, on the sixth tier, Yan Luan, unable to penetrate or even sense the changes occurring on the seventh, resorted to desperate measures. Her cultivation, however, offered a secret path.

In the Great Soul Gate, within the newly acquired peak claimed by Yan Luan, one of her disciples watched the sky with growing astonishment. Suddenly, the disciple’s body spasmed. Her eyes glazed over, replaced by a chilling, predatory gleam. In that fleeting instant, the disciple’s soul was suppressed, usurped by the remnant consciousness Yan Luan had left imprinted upon the peak, becoming her eyes.