## The Scroll of the Immortal Fiend, Tenth Sun: Chapter 1890 – Trial? Or Divine Fortune?

From the fourth gate of transference emerged a figure of imposing bearing, a man in his prime, clad in robes of yin and yang. He stood tall and straight, an aura of otherworldly grace clinging to him. Though his features were handsome, his thin lips hinted at a ruthless heart, a man unlikely to sacrifice his clan for the petty grievances of his offspring.

As he stepped forth from the arcane array, a surge of power erupted from him, the honed might of one nearing the Zenith of Emptiness. The very heavens recoiled at its release, as if countless demonic entities roared in the cardinal directions, summoning tempests and echoing through the firmament.

He stood but a single step from the Absolute Emptiness.

His arrival sent tremors through the ranks of the Dao-Fiend Sect. All knelt before him, heads bowed low, save for the man himself. With eyes like chips of ice, he gazed upon Wang Lin, who now sped across the ravaged lands of Meng Tu.

At that instant, the primal fear that had clung to Wang Lin’s spirit since his pursuit burst into furious life. The chilling premonition of death itself stemmed from the man behind him, the Patriarch of the Dao-Fiend Sect!

Without a backward glance, Wang Lin unleashed his ultimate speed. Though the laws of this realm prevented spatial contortion, he became a blur of afterimages, a fleeting phantom racing toward the horizon. He sensed that freedom lay just beyond his grasp, the moment when the confining energies would dissipate, and he could once more merge with the essence of the world.

But the Patriarch of the Dao-Fiend Sect, undisturbed by the chaos, moved with a chilling calm. Unlike his hesitant followers, he crossed the boundary of Green Fiend and Meng Tu, stepping into the latter’s cursed soil.

There, he halted, his gaze fixed upon Wang Lin, and slowly raised his right hand, pointing a single finger toward the sky.

“Dao… Fiend!” he spoke, his first words since his arrival, the syllables pregnant with arcane power.

As the words echoed, the mountains that straddled the divide between Green Fiend and Meng Tu began to tremble violently. The tremor spread through the land, unleashing a thunderous cacophony that resonated in the very bones of the world.

From the heart of that cacophony, an unseen force gripped the colossal mountain range, stretching like a slumbering dragon across the horizon. From the eastern edge of the range, a titanic figure coalesced, a venerable elder clad in flowing white robes. His face bore a serene smile, and with a grand sweep of his sleeves, he imbued the mountain range with an otherworldly essence.

Simultaneously, at the western end of the range, the air shimmered and warped, birthing another colossal figure. This one, a youth wreathed in shadows and clad in black, exuded an aura of demonic power. His face was an unyielding mask of coldness, radiating a murderous intent that could shatter realms.

With a swift gesture, he plunged a finger toward the mountains beneath.

The assembled members of the Dao-Fiend Sect were struck dumb with awe, their eyes fixed on their Patriarch with fervent devotion.

The endless mountain range, under the twin influence of the Dao Elder and the Fiend Youth, shuddered violently. With a deafening roar, the mountains, stretching for thousands of leagues, were torn from the earth, their roots ripping free with cataclysmic force!

The heavens themselves seemed to weep as the leviathan range ascended, a gargantuan dragon ripped from its slumbering grave.

At the Patriarch’s unhurried command, the mountain range surged forward, carried by an unstoppable momentum, carving a path through the very air. In the blink of an eye, it covered thousands of leagues, roaring over Wang Lin’s head and crashing down onto the sands of Meng Tu, two thousand leagues distant. He was once more trapped within the borders of Green Fiend.

The sense of impending doom exploded into a suffocating vortex, engulfing Wang Lin’s body and soul.

“Thus,” the Patriarch spoke, his voice calm as a mountain stream, “you remain in Green Fiend.” As he uttered these words, he casually stepped forward, and in a flash, he stood less than a hundred paces from Wang Lin.

Wang Lin, teeth gritted, pushed himself onward. He knew that escape from Green Fiend was unlikely, but surrender was unthinkable.

“Fear not. I will not kill you. You hold… potential,” the Patriarch declared, his eyes gleaming with an odd light, a flicker of contempt in their depths as he regarded Wang Lin as one might view an insect. With a grand gesture, he swept his sleeve toward the fleeing cultivator.

His power was immense. Wang Lin, his soul armor shattered, his cultivation reduced to the Late Stage of Emptiness, his reserves drained by his previous struggles, was hopelessly outmatched. Desperation lending him strength, Wang Lin closed his eyes and sought communion with his distant, ethereal doppelganger.

In that instant, a foreign energy flooded Wang Lin’s being, his eyes blazing with gold. He spun around, his hands flashing through a complex series of incantations, and slammed them into the empty air behind him.

The heavens roared, and Wang Lin’s body convulsed. He coughed up a torrent of blood, his body flung backward, hurtling him back towards the newly placed mountain range. Even with the borrowed power of his avatar, he was no match for this being.

The force of the blow left him gravely wounded, his mind teetering on the edge of oblivion. With a savage bite to his tongue, he fought to regain consciousness.

The Patriarch chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth. His eyes shone with a curious light as he watched Wang Lin retreat, shaking his head slowly.
“So, this is the one… the appointed vessel…” the middle-aged man mused, his voice a low growl. “To withstand even a fraction of my power… Impressive. Very well, let me show you the true might of the Dao-Demon Sect’s forbidden hand seals! You fancy yourself adept, do you?” With a sudden upward thrust of his right hand, he struck the heavens themselves.

The sky rippled, as if reality itself were tearing apart, revealing an ethereal landscape of iridescent waves. In a flash, the immortal elder in white robes materialized, hovering high above. His gaze, filled with ancient wisdom and boundless power, fixed upon Wang Lin, who was fleeing with desperate speed. A celestial roar erupted from the elder as he plunged towards the doomed mortal.

As he descended, the elder transformed into a gargantuan hand, its fingers not five, but seven, each tipped with a shimmering nail of pure light!

Simultaneously, from the void opposite the celestial hand, a demonic youth cloaked in darkness emerged. With a contemptuous snort, he too coalesced into a monstrous palm, this one obsidian black and equally adorned with seven wicked fingers. Waves of malevolent energy pulsed from it as it crashed down toward Wang Lin.

From afar, the scene resembled a cosmic tapestry. Two colossal hands, one radiant white, the other abyssal black, plummeted from the heavens, converging upon their quarry below. In a terrifyingly swift instant, the two palms collided thousands of feet above Wang Lin, fusing into a single, awe-inspiring entity: the Immortal-Demon Seal, crackling with both celestial and infernal energies.

The very sky and earth seemed to convulse as the Seal formed, day and night blurring into a chaotic, indistinct haze. Within this swirling vortex of power, Wang Lin ceased his flight. He stood his ground, gazing up at the descending Immortal-Demon Palm, a profound silence enveloping him.

His face was devoid of despair, absent of sorrow, instead bearing a serene calm tinged with a trace of regret.

Wang Lin knew he could not evade this fate. His only lament was that he had not yet resurrected Wan’er, that he still yearned to find his brothers and friends scattered across the vastness of the Immortal-Astral Continent.

With a soft sigh, Wang Lin closed his eyes. Yet, even in this final moment, he refused to surrender. Within his soul, he cried out to the relic he had long neglected, the Heavenly Defiance!

The Heavenly Defiance Orb!

The palm descended, a thunderous cataclysm, and in that instant, it slammed into Wang Lin. A sudden, chilling premonition seized the heart of the Dao-Demon Sect Master. An inexplicable sense of dread washed over him, prompting him to act without hesitation. He raised his hand and with a sweeping gesture, commanded the heavens.

A sonic boom reverberated through the landscape, and a tempest of wind tore at everything in its path. The hand, which had enveloped Wang Lin, did not crush him outright. Instead, compelled by the Sect Master’s intervention, it clenched its fingers tightly around the captive, imprisoning him within its palm.

Having done so, the Dao-Demon Sect Master leaped upwards, merging with the colossal hand, and soared towards the depths of the Green Devil Continent. Behind him, the Dao-Demon Sect disciples transformed into streaks of light, following their leader into the distance.

Only when they had all departed did the distant mountains slowly shift back into their original positions, resuming their silent vigil. The Meng Earth Continent, unusually, remained impassive, offering no divine observation, as if an understanding, a pact, had been struck long ago.

The Sect Master streaked across the sky, his expression serene, though the unease from that fleeting moment of premonition lingered within him. He felt, with unnerving certainty, that had he attempted to kill Wang Lin outright, some calamitous event would have befallen him.

Such a sensation was rare for him, and he dared not ignore it!

“He is… the appointed vessel,” he muttered to himself. “He must possess hidden abilities… He is cunning. To kill him as planned, without this… sacrifice…”

Lost in thought, the Dao-Demon Sect Master accelerated towards the heart of the Green Devil Continent, the Green Devil Scorpion Shrine!

“We will imprison him within the Green Devil Scorpion Shrine! With his body, we shall nourish the Green Devil. With his soul, we shall resurrect it!”