Elder Shi Fang of the Great Lo Sword Sect, alongside the diminutive, aged man beside him, coughed forth crimson rivers, their bodies flung backward by an unseen force. Each footfall was a thunderous echo, leaving deep indentations upon the very earth.

As a noxious, grey miasma billowed outwards, a phantom blade of pure energy shrieked forth, not towards the battered elders, but towards the audacious Nascent Soul cultivator, Lü Songyi, who had sought to seize the Gleaming Gold Fruit amidst the chaos!

Lü Songyi’s face contorted in horror. Realizing escape was impossible, he desperately invoked a forbidden art – Instant Transmission. Though perilous within the Demon Realm of the North, it was his sole recourse. Waves of distorted reality shimmered around him as his form began to fade.

Yet, from the heart of the onrushing grey mist, a chilling snort resonated.

In that scornful expulsion of breath, the grey vapor surged forward, defying the very fabric of space. It pierced the shimmering distortions and, with impossible speed, devoured Lü Songyi’s escaping form.

“You…!” Lü Songyi gasped, but before words could fully form, his body began to swell, inflating like a grotesque balloon.

The sight was nightmarish. In an instant, he reached a breaking point. With a deafening explosion, the respected Nascent Soul cultivator of the Great Lo Sword Sect was reduced to a shower of gore.

*Boom! Boom! Boom!* The echoes reverberated through the valley as a rain of viscera splattered across the land.

A thin veil of blood-infused mist began to settle, and from beyond its crimson curtain, a figure emerged, clad in robes of deep violet.

His long hair cascaded down his back, framing a face not handsome, but undeniably striking. Twin tendrils of that same grey energy danced and writhed like miniature dragons upon his fingertips. A violet token hung from his waist, etched with a single, ominous numeral: ‘Seven’.

A chilling silence descended upon the valley with the arrival of Wang Lin!

Guo Duyi, his face ashen and devoid of all color, trembled visibly. His knuckles gleamed white as he clutched his flying sword, oblivious to the pain.

His sister, overcome by the gruesome scene, covered her mouth and retched, her face a sickly white.

The blue-robed youth, seemingly unaffiliated with the Sword Sect, closed his eyes in rapture, inhaling deeply the coppery tang of the blood-soaked air.

The woman named Qianqin, stood frozen, her expression a storm of indecision.

These disciples, weak in their cultivation, lacked the fortitude of their elders. Though shaken to their cores, Shi Fang and his aged companion managed to maintain a semblance of composure, their faces only betraying a slight pallor.

Wang Lin’s gaze swept over the assembled figures, cold and impassive. With a casual gesture of his hand, he drew forth tendrils of grey energy from the scattered remains of the unfortunate Lü Songyi.

The vapor coalesced into a swirling sphere, a miniature storm of power. It pulsed with an arcane energy that threatened to consume the mind of any who dared to gaze upon it for too long.

Wang Lin crushed the sphere within his palm. An unseen wave of power emanated from the point of contact, causing the globe to shrink to the size of a fingernail. When he opened his hand, the sphere had vanished completely.

“Heavenly Fate Sect, Violet Lineage Seventh… Wang Lin!” Elder Shi Fang’s voice was taut, his eyes fixed upon the violet token hanging from Wang Lin’s waist.

Wang Lin, unperturbed, turned his chilling gaze upon Shi Fang. “Answer one question truthfully, and I will allow one of you to leave here alive.”

Shi Fang erupted in maniacal laughter. He formed a hand seal and pointed towards the sky. From the empty scabbard upon his back, a searing wave of emerald sword energy blasted forth, piercing the heavens above.

“Wang Lin! Though your cultivation may be at the mid-stage of the Nascent Transformation, we, in our nascent beginnings, wield the sacred treasures of the Great Lo Sword Sect! Even if you succeed in killing us, you will be wounded. How then will you attend the Eastern Sea Spirit Gate in half a month’s time?” Shi Fang sneered.

He had heard rumors of the Heavenly Fate Sect’s newly acquired disciple, Wang Lin of the Violet Lineage, being among those chosen to attend the upcoming event.

Now, facing Wang Lin himself, he had decided to gamble. He wagered that Wang Lin would hesitate to act, lest their combined fury inflict a wound that would jeopardize his journey to the Eastern Sea.

The aged man beside Shi Fang had remained silent, his eyes burning with unwavering intensity. But upon hearing Shi Fang’s words, a surge of unease pierced his heart. He knew that this Wang Lin was not one to hesitate. It was better to strike first and ask questions later. Even then, the odds of two nascent Nascent Transformation cultivators prevailing against one in the mid-stages were slim.

With a grim determination, the aged man moved with blinding speed. He retrieved a blood-red banner from his storage pouch and unfurled it with a violent shake. Instantly, a thick cloud of crimson energy billowed forth, engulfing his form in its morbid embrace.

“Die!” the aged man roared. He wove his hands within the sanguine aura, unleashing a series of colossal, blood-red handprints that clawed their way towards Wang Lin, bringing with them the stench of death.

At the same moment, he bit his tongue, spitting forth a mouthful of vital essence. The blood shimmered with a golden luminescence. As the blood hung in the air, he chanted an incantation in a guttural tongue that stirred the air, bringing with it a surge of invisible power – a spectral hunger. The ritual of the Sky-Ghoul Devour had begun.
The wizened elder, his frame diminutive but his eyes now gleaming with an unholy light born of the incantation, roared. Before him, the shimmering golden essence of his Yuan Shen blood writhed in unnatural convulsions, vanishing into the ether with unsettling speed.

As it dissipated, a colossal, phantom visage materialized behind the elder – a monstrous head, thirty feet in height, its form a chilling shade of charcoal. Hairless and ghastly, it resembled a demon plucked from the deepest abyss. Its eyes, though spectral, possessed a palpable weight, radiating an icy, malevolent aura.

The head bellowed, a sound that echoed with primordial rage, and lunged from behind the elder, hurtling towards Wang Lin.

“Now!” the elder shrieked, his voice cracking with desperation.

Shi Fang, his jaw clenched, swiftly performed a series of arcane gestures. The azure light emanating from the scabbard at his back intensified, unleashing a blinding radiance that tore through the heavens. From the sheath, a serpentine blade of pure energy, a fearsome Azure Dragon, erupted forth, its jaws agape, seeking to rend Wang Lin asunder.

Yet, doubt gnawed at Shi Fang’s resolve. He bit his tongue, spitting forth a stream of Yuan Shen blood, then sank to the earth, crossing his legs in meditation. With a desperate grasp, he smeared the blood across his palm and slammed it against his brow, emitting a guttural roar.

A surge of emerald light pulsed from Shi Fang’s crown as his Yuan Shen, his spiritual essence, burst forth from his physical shell. The ethereal form opened its spectral maw, unleashing a beam of piercing azure energy that coalesced into a miniature, willow-leafed sword. This spectral blade, guided by Shi Fang’s Yuan Shen, pursued the earlier, monstrous Azure Dragon, hurtling towards Wang Lin with lightning speed.

“Die!”

The two Nascent Soul elders of the Great Luo Sword Sect, their faces etched with grim determination, were now wagering everything.

Wang Lin remained unmoved, his expression serene amidst the chaos. He stood his ground, his gaze unwavering. With a single step forward, he raised his right hand, and upon his thumb, a corona of black light bloomed.

The Finger of Annihilation!

Beneath its influence, all life withered and decayed.

The verdant grasses of the valley instantly turned to brittle, yellow husks. Even the withered leaves, already on the cusp of oblivion, crumbled to dust. This was no superficial decay; the very roots buried deep within the earth dissolved in an instant.

The crimson handprints, imbued with dark sorcery, slammed into Wang Lin’s outstretched thumb. But instead of impact, there was only dissolution. The individual handprints shattered into countless red fragments.

Mere destruction would not suffice to display the true power of the Annihilation Finger. The fragmented pieces, scattered by their own destruction, were inexplicably drawn back, caught in the gravitational pull of the black light. They reversed their trajectory, gathering upon Wang Lin’s thumb, bathing it in an even deeper crimson hue.

The transformation occurred with blinding speed. To onlookers, it appeared as though Wang Lin’s thumb, upon contact, had devoured the blood-stained handprints, absorbing their essence into itself.

Having consumed the power of the bloodied hands, Wang Lin’s eyes glinted with a chilling light. His thumb, far from stopping, accelerated, bypassing the sword-like energy of Shi Fang and piercing the massive, spectral head that lunged towards him.

The ghastly head’s eyes flickered with an unholy light. As Wang Lin’s thumb approached, it opened its cavernous maw and swallowed the attacking digit whole.

“Oh?” Wang Lin’s lips curved into a subtle smile. “If you wish to consume, then feast to your fill!”

In a heartbeat, his thumb blazed with scarlet energy. The power of the absorbed bloodied hands, along with the essence of annihilation that dwelled within the Finger itself, was unleashed into the heart of the monstrous head.

The spectral visage swelled in size, emitting a mournful wail. It recoiled, attempting to flee, but before it could retreat even ten feet, it shuddered violently and exploded in a cataclysmic blast of spiritual energy.

The elder, his vital art shattered, staggered backward, his face deathly pale. Coughing up a mouthful of blood, his eyes widened in stark terror. Without a word, he turned and fled.

He was consumed by fear!

He had used his Heavenly Ghost Devour technique against a Nascent Soul cultivator of the middle stage. That opponent, though ultimately able to break free, had endured a harrowing ordeal. Wang Lin, however, had dismissed it with effortless ease. What else could the elder do but run?