The devastating impact, though met head-on by Wang Lin’s Dao Ancient power and shielded by his flesh, was further buffered by a mysterious, humanoid armor of earthly hues, surely a rare and precious artifact of the Returning Sect.

Yet even so, Wang Lin felt his nascent soul tremble within him. He was forced back thousands of feet, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Upon his earthen armor, a palm-sized fracture appeared upon the chest plate, though it held, refusing to shatter.

“They seek to wound me, to… delay me!” He had attempted to shrink the distance between himself and his goal, only to find the very air here sealed, a magical barrier that even the Soul Armor could not breach.

As Wang Lin retreated, a celestial sword descended from the heavens, a whistling flash of terrifying speed. It thundered towards him, promising to cleave the very earth asunder, drawing ever closer with each passing breath.

Wang Lin lifted his head, his right hand forming a fist as he met the descending blade head-on. Against such pure, unadulterated sword energy, complex spells were useless. A direct, physical blow was his best defense.

The clash echoed like thunder. The sword dissipated upon impact, but Wang Lin’s right hand went numb, as if frozen. Cracks spider-webbed across the earthen armor upon his arm, threatening to disintegrate.

The lingering sword energy surged through his arm and into his body, seeking to wreak havoc from within, but Wang Lin suppressed it with an iron will. With a burst of speed, he transformed into a streak of light, hurtling towards the summit of the mountain, where a solitary figure stood: Yun Kong, clad in robes of pale green.

Yun Kong’s face was a mask of ice as he watched Wang Lin approach. Without hesitation, he raised his right hand, summoning a second blade of celestial power. It descended upon Wang Lin, even stronger than the first!

With a guttural roar, Wang Lin answered this second assault with another earth-shaking punch.

The second blade shattered, and the earthen armor on Wang Lin’s right arm exploded in a shower of dust. But even as the second blade was extinguished, Yun Kong conjured a third, and then a fourth!

Two more celestial blades hurtled towards Wang Lin, the thunderous explosions shaking the very mountain. Unfazed, Wang Lin surged forward, closing the distance to Yun Kong. He was now less than a hundred feet away, his face contorted in a mask of savage fury.

Yun Kong’s face paled slightly. He stared intently at Wang Lin. As Wang Lin drew within a hundred feet, Yun Kong bit his tongue, spitting out a mouthful of blood. But this was no ordinary blood; it gleamed with a golden light, and as it splattered, it transformed into nine spectral swords, each aimed at Wang Lin.

With a desperate gesture, Yun Kong reached out into the void. In his grasp appeared a sword of ancient make, radiating an aura of royalty and divine power. He seized it with both hands and leaped forward, launching himself behind the volley of nine golden swords, preparing to deliver a final, devastating blow!

The moment Wang Lin laid eyes on the ancient, regal blade, he felt a familiar resonance, a trace of Great Celestial power clinging to its surface. It was a weapon of the same make as his golden seal, forged by a Great Celestial from the very essence of magic!

As the nine spectral swords hurtled towards him, Wang Lin’s eyes glinted with determination. He would leave this place, and any who stood in his way would feel his wrath. The armor on his right arm was ruined, but he still had his left.

He clenched his left hand into a fist and unleashed nine mighty blows, one for each spectral sword.

“Let us see which is stronger: Your blades, or Wang Lin’s fists!”

The mountain echoed with thunder as the nine spectral swords shattered. The armor on Wang Lin’s left arm was utterly destroyed, reduced to dust, but he had broken through the volley and was now only twenty feet away from Yun Kong, who was leaping through the air to deliver his final strike!

“You wield a weapon forged by a Great Celestial, but so does Wang Lin!” Wang Lin chose not to use the Remaining Night Technique. He knew he could not use it twice, even in his enhanced state and he had to reserve it for when he battled Yun Kong. The fight, whilst difficult, had not yet required it and he saw through Yun Kong’s and the other two’s intentions: to waste his time.

With a surge of power, Wang Lin reached out and grasped the void. In his hand materialized a golden seal, radiating immense power.

As the golden seal appeared, it collided with Yun Kong’s ancient sword in a deafening explosion. Yun Kong coughed up blood, his face ashen. The sword in his hand shattered into countless fragments, and he was thrown back, crashing onto the mountain with a sickening thud.

Wang Lin’s golden seal now bore a deep fissure, but it had not broken. Instead, it dimmed and flickered, before Wang Lin returned it to his storage. Such weapons, conjured from nothing by Great Celestials, were not judged on their physical form or magical properties alone. Their power derived from the faith and will poured into their creation by their masters.

To create something from nothing was a profound and mystical art. Clearly, the power infused into Yun Kong’s blade was far less than that within Wang Lin’s golden seal.

Having reclaimed his seal, Wang Lin stood atop the mountain’s peak, his gaze fixed on the injured Yun Kong.

Blood trickled from Yun Kong’s lips as he stared at Wang Lin, his expression defeated.

“I have lost…” He made no mention of Wang Lin’s Soul Armor, nor the fact that they both bore Great Celestial made weapons. He simply accepted his defeat.

“But you, too, have lost…” Yun Kong struggled to his feet, a complex emotion in his eyes.

“The time granted to you by the Soul Armor is running short. The sacrifice of the two Green Devil messengers, my desperate stalling… it was all to keep you here for just a little longer… None of us could have foreseen that you would escape this place…” As Yun Kong spoke, Wang Lin turned and strode towards the other side of the mountain. He had no patience for such trifles, instead, whilst moving forward, he flicked his hand behind him, sending a bloody light towards the other. It pierced through Yun Kong’s brow.

There was no scream, no resistance. The Bloodsword pierced Yun Kong’s head and swiftly returned to Wang Lin’s side.
Whether the withered husk of Cloudsky was the true man or a mere echo, Wang Lin had no time to discern. He felt it, a chilling premonition, a lurking dread akin to the first time he faced the Water Daoist.

Before him stretched the plains of Meng Earth Continent, a vast desert, a landscape that comprised nearly seven-tenths of its desolate expanse.

Whispers carried on the winds spoke of an ancient battle, of a celestial wanderer from beyond the stars who challenged the Immortal Ancestor himself. Defeated, the wanderer was imprisoned here, his mastery over the earth’s very essence warping the land into this endless sea of sand.

This being, they said, bore the name Meng, and so, over countless years, the land became known as Meng Earth Continent!

Here, the very air thrummed with the primal power of earth, a kin to the Green Devil Continent. Indeed, the Green Devil Continent was merely the earthen essence veiled by devilish energies. The Green Devil Scorpion, a monstrous beast born from the earth itself, was a prime example.

Such lore was etched upon the ancient tortoise shell, and now, as Wang Lin gazed upon Meng Earth Continent, these memories surged within him. Yet, he could not dwell on the past. He urged his soul armor onward, a desperate race against fate across the plains, unable to use his full powers.

He devoured the distance, the boundaries of the Myriad Mile Ship falling swiftly behind. Barely a thousand li remained! Meng Earth Continent loomed before him.

But in that fleeting moment, the very heavens convulsed. Before him, six points of light erupted, casting blinding radiance, and the air shimmered with the telltale ripples of activation circles!

The teleportation arrays blazed to life, and in the blink of an eye, dozens of figures materialized within each, coalescing into a legion of hundreds. A wave of staggering cultivation emanated from them, a suffocating tide of power.

To activate such arrays, especially to transport so many, demanded a sacrifice from the Green Devil Continent. The stronger the cultivators, the greater the cost. To convey beings of the Third Step would be an expense beyond reckoning.

Yet here stood hundreds, many possessed of terrifying strength, a price that would bleed the Green Devil Continent dry of a hundred thousand years’ worth of accumulation!

They had been lying in wait, concealed along the borders between Heavenly Bull Continent and the other realms, anticipating Wang Lin’s arrival. A miscalculation had forced this desperate, immediate arrival, and even now, more were surely following.

They were clad in similar garments, their colors varied, but each bore the unmistakable emblem of a black and white sun and moon – the mark of the Dao Devil Sect, the Green Devil Continent’s paramount power!

This assault was not the will of an entire continent, but the singular, focused fury of the Dao Devil Sect!

A mere thousand li lay between Wang Lin and the sanctuary of Meng Earth Continent. But now, the Dao Devil Sect barred his path, and the chilling dread, the whisper of impending doom, intensified.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed. He surged forward, a blur of motion, but as he did, the hundreds of cultivators from the six arrays unleashed a cacophony of war cries and hurled forth a gruesome barrage.

“From the Infinite Sky Grassland, the heads of nine cultivators!”

“From the Infinite Sky Grassland, the heads of six cultivators!”

“From the Infinite Sky Grassland, the head of a rogue cultivator of the Profound Calamity!”

“From the Infinite Sky Grassland…”

The chilling pronouncements echoed across the plains, each word a dagger to Wang Lin’s heart. He stared at the severed heads, the ghastly faces locked in eternal torment. He knew them, recognized them – they were the survivors, those who had fought alongside him in the Heavenly Bull Continent’s Third Cavity, on the Infinite Sky Grassland!

He knew not their names, but he remembered their faces. These were the faces of those who had made it to the end. Hundreds of heads, representing a significant portion of the final survivors…

“You crave heads, do you not? Then accept this, the first gift of the Dao Devil Sect!” A venomous voice slithered through the air.

“Dao Devil Sect…” Wang Lin’s eyes blazed with crimson light, a vow forged in the fires of his soul. “If I, Wang Lin, escape this place, I will scour your sect from the face of existence!” This was the first time, in all his days upon the Immortal Astral Continent, that he had felt such burning, unquenchable desire for annihilation.