A cataclysm of wind and dust churned before him as Lord Lin braced himself. The ancient patriarch of the Wayward Sect unleashed a thunderous blow. He recoiled, feet sliding back three paces. With the first step, the earth scorched crimson, a fiery imprint left in its wake. The second step bloomed with emerald foliage as the ground became a verdant tapestry woven by the retreating foot. And with the final stride, the earth beneath his heel transmuted into glistening gold, a metallic echo of the blow’s immense power.

Lord Lin, his eyes ablaze with defiance, lifted his gaze toward the dissipating tempest and the Wayward Sect’s venerable patriarch who emerged, calm and unyielding.

“To withstand my fist, to survive unscathed, retreating only three paces, and forcing me to reveal the hidden magic infused within me, you possess the strength to shatter the Wayward Sect,” the patriarch declared, his voice resonating with both respect and warning.

Lord Lin’s gaze, heavy with contemplation, locked onto the patriarch. That single punch held within it a symphony of nine distinct magics. He had managed to negate six, but the remaining three had driven him back.

“So, this is the might of a Celestial Sovereign! It is indeed formidable!” A spark ignited in Lord Lin’s eyes. It was a battle with a Celestial Sovereign that he craved.

*This is the way a Celestial Sovereign fights.* The echo of the patriarch’s devastating strike played in his mind. *I am learning*

“There is yet another,” the patriarch intoned. As he strode forward, crimson locks danced about his head, unbidden by the wind. His eyes glowed with an otherworldly light as he raised his right hand. A dizzying transformation washed over him as he flickered between the tangible and the ethereal. He unleashed his second blow.

The very foundations of the Wayward Sect trembled as an invisible force ripped through the sky and scarred the earth. Lord Lin found himself adrift in an endless expanse of nothingness.

Here, in this void of impenetrable darkness, there was no sky, no earth, only the chilling reality of his solitary existence…and the fist hurtling towards him.

This second blow pulsed with the power of eighteen distinct magics. Even the most seasoned Gold Ascendants would be crippled by its sheer force. No amount of numbers could hope to buy them even a moment.

This was no longer a matter of quantity, but of *quality*!

Gold Ascendants clung to spells and incantations, weaving intricate patterns of power. Yet, a Celestial Sovereign embodied the Way, making their power an extension of their very being, elevating them to a higher realm altogether.

“Eighteen distinct magics… truly a devastating blow! I have yet to attain such mastery,” Lord Lin breathed. As his eyes flashed, he raised his right hand and met the encroaching void with a fist of his own.

“I may not be able to merge the Way with my body, but this blow is born from the primal strength of my ancestral body, forged in the fires of cultivation. It wields no magic, only the unshakable force of will and conviction!”

With a roar that echoed through the void, Lord Lin lunged forward, his fist colliding with the patriarch’s cataclysmic punch.

A deafening explosion resonated through the abyss. It shattered the nothingness, rending it asunder. In the wake of the destruction, the sky of the Green Devil Continent reappeared, and the shattered ruins of the Wayward Sect re-emerged. Lord Lin stood before the patriarch, a hundred paces between them.

A trickle of blood escaped his lips as Lord Lin stumbled back seven paces, the ground beneath his feet transforming with each echoing step. His arm trembled. Blood fell.

“A formidable second blow, indeed,” he murmured, wiping the blood from his mouth. “Eighteen magics woven together, capable of severing the very fabric of reality.”

“Your cultivation may be lacking, but your battle prowess approaches that of a Celestial Sovereign,” the patriarch said, moving slowly. “Yet, you do not truly grasp the Way of a Celestial Sovereign. It seems I shall be the first you battle this day.” There was respect in his voice now.

“To withstand two blows from me without understanding the intricacies of Celestial Sovereignty…this man is extraordinary.”

The patriarch’s eyes blazed with power as he raised his right hand for a third time.

“If you withstand this final blow, I will consider the debt repaid,” the patriarch intoned. “This final strike is my absolute strength. If it cannot vanquish you, then nothing can. Your destruction of the Wayward Sect, I suspect, has been wrought with reason. But this, I will not ask. This blow shall be the end of it!”

“This strike contains twenty-seven magics,” the patriarch said. “How many will you withstand?”

Lord Lin knew he could not survive the blow in his current state. The patriarch’s attack would erase him completely, leaving not even the faintest trace of his existence.

“A Celestial Sovereign is truly the pinnacle of power, second only to the Ascended Sovereigns!” Lord Lin closed his eyes as a spectral tattoo of a Sky-Ox appeared upon his face. It cascaded across his skin as his power soared.

The force that surged from within shifted his cultivation from the early stages of Emptiness Tribulation to the middle, and then to the peak, before finally breaking into the realm of the Gold Ascendant.

The patriarch’s eyes narrowed. “Borrowed power? The Sky-Ox Spirit! You have gained its favor! To ascend so greatly, you must have heard its call!”

It was common knowledge that the seventy-two continents of the Immortal Clans held seventy-two enslaved spirits. Some were more suppressed than others. And some were more powerful.

Many had died. Only half still lived. The Green Devil Scorpion was once mighty, but it had been suppressed for an eternity. But the Sky-Ox Spirit was different. It was a more recent arrival, and the spirit itself was more powerful.

It was no easy feat to gain a spirit’s blessing. But even with that boon, one could reach no higher than the later stages of Emptiness Tribulation, never a Gold Ascendant.

The patriarch knew this to be true. It was a consensus that had stood for ages. There were, of course, exceptions. Some were blessed by fate, granted the capacity to hear the roaring of the spirits and scale the heights to Gold Ascension.

But even that was a limit. Few, if any, ever rose higher, and it was said there could only be two such individuals at any given time.

The Wayward Sect patriarch had never encountered a Celestial Sovereign that had also been blessed by a continental spirit.

Such a probability was more far-fetched than the birth of an Ascended Sovereign, only surpassed by the arrival of a Great Celestial Sovereign.

“To survive my blows and possess the spirit’s blessing… truly an anomaly.” His eyes revealed a flicker of emotion he had not felt in ages.

“Great Celestial Sovereigns would seek to recruit such an individual.” The patriarch prepared himself, wondering how far Lin’s power would reach.

And once more, the patriarch unleashed his attack.

The power of twenty-seven magics shattered the air between them, creating a maelstrom that threatened to swallow the very land. The debris of the fallen Wayward Sect was drawn into the swirling darkness.

The sky itself began to bend and break, falling towards the singularity. Even the earth contorted into a monstrous semicircle as the vortex devoured all.

Lord Lin opened his eyes. The power of the Gold Ascendant flowed through him. He had never felt such might.

His body wavered, and a second figure appeared at his side. He stepped forward. Another. And another. Until ninety-eight figures stood.

“I may not be able to embody the Way, but I can unleash ninety-eight magics with this divine speed! Prepare for war!”