A crimson flash rent the air as Wang Lin unleashed the full fury of his being, a cataclysmic surge of power fueled by his profound cultivation and the unbridled might of his Daogu lineage.

Upon the lands of the Immortal Clan in Xian罡 Continent, Wang Lin had always treaded carefully with his Daogu abilities, loath to be recognized and ensnared in a web of unwanted attention. For at his very core, he was Daogu, not Immortal, and within the Immortal domain, discretion was his only shield.

But within the confines of the Space Stone, such constraints vanished like mist in the sun. With a single, decisive strike, a colossal phantom of a Daogu warrior manifested behind him, an ethereal giant clad in ancient armor, emanating an aura of primordial desolation.

Crimson light danced as Wang Lin, wielding his blood-soaked blade, swept across Xu Decai’s nascent soul and his lantern artifact with blinding speed. A deafening clang echoed as Xu Decai’s spirit coughed forth a torrent of vital essence, leaving him utterly diminished. The lantern above his head was sent spiraling away, its candle extinguished in an instant.

“I… I refuse to yield!” Xu Decai’s weakened soul shrieked in its death throes before Wang Lin, with a flick of his sleeve, unleashed a final, devastating blow, imprisoning the remnant within his storage realm.

The exertion took its toll. Wang Lin staggered, spitting blood, and plummeted from the sky. He landed heavily, immediately adopting a meditative posture, his eyes shut tight as he sought to regain his composure.

The Mosquito King, a loyal sentinel, buzzed tirelessly around him. Meanwhile, Yi Si, its gaze filled with an inscrutable light, flitted away, returning moments later with a mangled arm clutched in its grasp. The limb, a gruesome remnant of Xu Decai’s physical form, held Yi Si captive. It contemplated the bloody flesh, a mist began to shroud the creature.

Three days drifted by, each moment guarded vigilantly by the tireless Mosquito King. The air was still, undisturbed by the slightest ripple.

As the third day drew to a close, Wang Lin’s eyes snapped open, revealing a profound weariness within their depths. The consecutive slayings of two cultivators in the early stages of the Sky Tribulation realm had left him drained.

“Two down, eight more to go…” Wang Lin’s right hand shot forward, seizing a severed head that hurtled towards him. It was Xu Decai’s, the lifeless eyes still wide with terror and despair.

He stared at the head for a long, silent moment before adding it to his collection, joining the grim visage of Liu Ziyuan.

“That lantern… a peculiar treasure,” Wang Lin murmured, lost in thought. He lifted his gaze, summoning the extinguished lantern from where it lay on the ground. It floated before him, awaiting his examination.

Wang Lin exhaled a wisp of his Primordial Spirit, allowing it to caress the artifact and begin the process of refinement. Slowly, a flicker of light rekindled within the lantern, casting a gentle radiance.

With the eyes of a master of forbidden arts, Wang Lin peered into the lantern’s very essence. It was a purely defensive treasure, devoid of any offensive capabilities, yet its protective aura was formidable.

So long as its flame burned bright, the soul it guarded remained untouched, nurtured, and fortified as if imbibing an elixir of power.

Should one merge the lantern with their being, its ethereal light would envelop the flesh, imbuing it with an invisible layer of protection.

“Without this artifact, Xu Decai would have surely fallen during the second trial,” Wang Lin mused. He inhaled sharply, drawing the lantern closer. It shrunk in size, merging into his being, nestling beside his Primordial Spirit. The lantern’s gentle glow washed over him.

A comforting warmth flooded his senses. Wang Lin inhaled deeply, his eyes gleaming with newfound excitement.

“This battle was worth it! And most importantly, I shall unveil the secret behind his uncanny speed. With that knowledge, my battle prowess will surge!” Wang Lin had keenly felt Xu Decai’s astonishing speed during their clash. Given the slightest opening, his foe could unleash an unrelenting barrage of spells, leaving his opponent reeling and helpless.

Wang Lin’s gaze flickered with purpose. He lowered his head, his right hand turning over to reveal Xu Decai’s severely damaged soul, hovering at the brink of oblivion.

The soul, its eyes sealed shut in a state of apparent slumber, had shrunk to the size of three oxen. It lay inert within Wang Lin’s palm.

Staring at the soul, Wang Lin clenched his fist with sudden force. The moment his grip tightened, he unleashed the forbidden art of Soul Searching. This practice was difficult to use, unless the opponent was severely injured.

Xu Decai’s entire life, his memories, secrets, and experiences, were now laid bare before Wang Lin.

Time slipped away as he searched, sifting through the vast tapestry of a life spanning countless years, seeking the seed of his enemy’s power.

Three hours passed before Wang Lin’s eyes snapped open, a surge of elation coursing through him.

“The Speed God Decree! In his youth, Xu Decai stumbled upon a meteorite, upon which the incantation for incredible speed was etched.” Wang Lin spread his hand, Xu Decai’s soul trembling, approaching its final destination.

But instead, from his soul was released a dark vapor, filled with resentment and spite, a rage from the despair of death.

This caused Wang Lin to narrow his eyes as the vapor became thicker, then slowly, it began to thin and Xu Decai opened his eyes.
The moment his eyes flickered open, locking with Wang Lin’s, a tempest roared within Wang Lin’s mind, leaving him momentarily adrift. In that fleeting instant, Xu Decai’s soul, clutched in Wang Lin’s palm, shimmered and darted away, seeking escape into the swirling mists.

Yet, the disorientation passed swiftly, replaced by a strange and incredulous light in Wang Lin’s eyes.

“A ghost…born naturally?” Wang Lin, a master of illusion arts, knew the odds of a soul manifesting after death, be it of man or beast. It bore little relation to power, yet was exceedingly rare.

The Great Soul Sect could conjure spirits, true, but the results were always base, fit only for crafting middling soul sails at best.

He understood the significance. Should a being, upon its demise, birth a spirit unaided, such a soul was a boon beyond measure for those who delved into the mystic art of illusion.

Wang Lin’s heart hammered against his ribs, a furious drumbeat of exhilaration. This unexpected prize was beyond his wildest imaginings. Without hesitation, his gaze locked onto the fleeing spectral form of Xu Decai, and with a surge of unbridled excitement, he blurred into motion.

A mere spirit could never outrun Wang Lin. He had slain the man in life; death offered no escape.

Moments later, Wang Lin reappeared, a spectral wail clutched tightly in his fist. A struggling, desperate ghost.

He imprisoned the captive soul within his dimensional storage, a prize of immense potential.

With a deep breath, Wang Lin stilled his racing thoughts and turned his attention to the *Swift God Decree* inscribed within Xu Decai’s jade scroll. This technique embraced an extreme path, promising to elevate one’s speed to terrifying heights.

Its core principle lay in carving nine divine meridians within the body. Each new meridian amplified the user’s velocity exponentially.

Xu Decai, in his life, had managed to forge seven such meridians!

These so-called “divine meridians” were but a term from the *Swift God Decree*. In truth, they were elaborate channels of energy, sacrificing potential with seals to create accelerated circulation within. This, in turn, multiplied the speed of spellcasting.

“Sealing a cultivator’s nascent soul within one’s own body, creating a vortex… This feels strangely akin to certain abilities employed by the Ancient Clans…” The more Wang Lin studied, the more this notion took root.

He realized the technique’s potential transcended simple spellcasting. If applied to the hardy frame of an Ancient Clan warrior, its power could be terrifying!

“Alas, I lack a spare nascent soul…” Wang Lin mused, committing the intricacies of the *Swift God Decree* to memory. Rising to his feet, he extended his hand, summoning a gourd from the depths of the earth. Within its confines resided the remnants of three million souls, a vast majority still surviving.

He reclaimed the azure umbrella that had hung in the sky and finally recalled the Mosquito King, along with the shrouded figure of Yi Si, merging with Xu Decai’s arm in a grotesque attempt at regeneration. All were drawn back into the safety of his dimensional storage.

With a glint of cold determination in his eyes, Wang Lin declared, “It is time to return…” And with a shift in his ethereal form, he vanished from the desolate space.

Days bled into nights on the Extremity Heaven Plains, where the fog swirled in a vortex of ceaseless bloodshed. As the thinning ranks weeded out the weak, each surviving cultivator became a harder nut to crack, prolonging the savage dance of death.

Madness reigned within the mist, driving ordinary cultivators to a frenzy. Deeper within the swirling vapor, Elder Zhang and Elder Zhao fought back-to-back against the combined assault of Lü Wenran and several Early Stage Sky Tribulation cultivators.

Nearby, two remaining female cultivators from Green Devil Continent clashed with Yan Luan and Xu Dongde, the Great Soul Sect Elder.

With the loss of two more Early Stage Sky Tribulation Sovereigns, the forces of Green Devil Continent had suffered a grievous blow. The pressure on Elders Zhang and Zhao intensified, forcing them to contend with an ever-growing tide of enemies.

After days of relentless struggle, the two Sky Tribulation veterans from Green Devil Continent were battered and weary, their defenses beginning to crumble.