With a chilling gaze, the youth, Wang Lin, watched the diminutive elder of the Great Luo Sword Sect flee. He then clapped his storage bag, and with a resounding whoosh, the immortal sword Liken soared forth, bearing within it the boisterous voice of Xu Liguo.

“Run, you whelp! Your granddaddy Xu is letting his little brother play with you!” As Xu Liguo’s voice echoed from the sword, a curved blade, his constant companion, burst forth from the storage bag, giving chase to the fleeing elder.

All transpired with blinding speed. In the blink of an eye, Wang Lin had broken the Crimson Hand Seal, extinguished the Sky-Ghoul Head, and sent the diminutive elder fleeing for his very life.

Now, a sword-light, hurled by Shi Fang, pursued relentlessly, aimed directly at Wang Lin.

Turning, Wang Lin’s gaze burned like twin stars. He saw, behind the sword-light, Shi Fang’s nascent soul, separated from his body and fused with a Willow-Leaf Flying Sword. His expression remained unchanged, his body still, save for the raising of his left hand. A force of Immortal Gold suddenly radiated outwards, engulfing the entire valley in its shimmering aura.

His left hand appeared as a miniature sun, emitting golden rays. Within his palm, a golden vortex began to coalesce with incredible speed.

“Fourth Cycle, Containing Immortal Might!” Wang Lin intoned softly, and with a flick of his left hand, he unleashed the power.

A deafening roar tore through the valley as the golden vortex surged forward, colliding head-on with the descending sword-light. The very earth trembled, fissures splitting the ground. The valley walls crumbled, showering down rocks, and in places, even collapsing completely.

Behind the shattered sword-light, Shi Fang’s nascent soul, bound to the Willow-Leaf Flying Sword, screamed like a vengeful wraith. With impossible speed, it hurtled towards Wang Lin’s brow. Though Wang Lin’s cultivation had reached the middle stage of the Infant Transformation realm, he would have, in times past, avoided a direct confrontation with a foe who had abandoned his corporeal form and fused his very essence with a natal weapon. But now, he bore the Kunji Whip, and so he felt no dread. As Shi Fang’s soul-forged weapon neared, Wang Lin retreated swiftly, his right hand sweeping across his storage bag. A dark shape erupted into the air.

With a crisp crack, the Willow-Leaf Flying Sword shuddered, as if struck by an immense force. Its velocity diminished noticeably. Another crack echoed, and from the sword emerged an enraged cry, followed by a swirling cloud of emerald flame. With a “whoosh,” it pierced the void, leaping across the distance to appear but three inches from Wang Lin’s brow.

“Oh? Desperation?” Wang Lin’s eyes flashed. Retreating further, he moved with a speed that rivaled the lightning itself, his whip lashing out in a furious dance.

“Crack! Crack! Crack!” The whip sang its deadly song, and from the Willow-Leaf Flying Sword arose a cacophony of tortured screams. Then, a torrent of black miasma erupted, and the weapon faltered, its momentum arrested. Finally, it turned tail and fled, its light now dim and flickering.

The Willow-Leaf Flying Sword, now emitting thick tendrils of black miasma, formed an illusion of Shi Fang, looking frail and weak. He appeared as if a single breath could shatter him completely.

Shi Fang attempted to return to his body, but Wang Lin offered no such reprieve. As the nascent soul turned to flee, Wang Lin pointed with his right hand. A streak of azure light shot forth, its target not Shi Fang’s soul, but his abandoned body!

Before Shi Fang’s horrified gaze, the azure light transformed into a monstrous, gargantuan insect. Most noticeable were its gigantic, razor-sharp mandibles.

With terrifying speed, the insect plunged down, its mandibles piercing the crown of Shi Fang’s head, sinking deep within.

With a single, ravenous gulp, it devoured every drop of blood, every shred of flesh, the lingering traces of immortal power, and everything else that could be consumed.

In the end, all that remained was a desiccated husk, utterly devoid of life.

The illusory Shi Fang, still clinging to the Willow-Leaf Flying Sword, stared blankly for a moment, then whirled around to fix a venomous gaze upon Wang Lin. Without a word, he streaked towards a quartet of younger disciples standing some distance away.

Two were men, and two were women. Shi Fang hesitated not at all, but hurtled towards Guo Xielie.

Guo Xielie looked around in confusion, scarcely able to comprehend why the sect elder was heading straight for him. Darkness descended, and a wound suddenly appeared upon his brow, pierced by the Willow-Leaf Flying Sword.

Guo Xielie’s body convulsed, and the light in his eyes faded, only to return almost instantly, though now tinged with a palpable weakness.

Wang Lin watched the scene with a keen interest. Soul-snatching was no simple feat. Even Situ Nan, when seizing Jin Dan, required time to integrate himself. Yet here, before his very eyes, Shi Fang succeeded in seizing a body and regaining his senses. Indeed, it seemed that he was on the verge of completing the entire process.

This revelation sparked a spark of curiosity within Wang Lin.

Guo Xielie, now possessed by Shi Fang, stared at Wang Lin with a pallid face. “Friend Wang,” he said hastily, “Shi Fang was foolish today. If you release me, I will impart to you the forbidden art of rapid soul-seizing. Furthermore, none shall ever learn of this day’s events. I, Shi Fang, swear it upon my very soul!”

As he spoke, Shi Fang struck out with his right hand, and two of the three disciples standing nearby—those other than Qian Qin—collapsed, dead in an instant.

“This woman, Qian Qin, is still a maiden. Friend Wang, I also possess a secret art that uses maidenhood for healing. If you will let me go, I will bestow it upon you as well!” Shi Fang watched Wang Lin, his heart pounding in his chest. He had been driven to the very edge, for otherwise, he would never have stooped to such groveling.

Qian Qin trembled at Shi Fang’s words. Casting a complex glance at Wang Lin, she bit her lip and knelt upon the ground. “I beg you, Senior, slay this man and the other elder from the Great Luo Sword Sect. Qian Qin has no way to repay such kindness, and so I offer myself as a humble servant for the rest of my days!”

Shi Fang’s face darkened, and his eyes flashed with murderous intent.

“Tell me,” Wang Lin inquired, his expression calm. “Two hundred years ago, when Sword Saint Ling Tianhou returned from the Rain Immortal Realm, did any anomalies occur?”
A shadow stirred within the ancient valley. Shi Fang, the usurper, recoiled, a flicker of comprehension igniting in his eyes. He stared, transfixed, at Wang Lin. “You speak… of the Sword Soul!” he gasped, his voice a strangled whisper.

Wang Lin’s gaze sharpened, cold as a winter wind. “Tell me what you know.”

Shi Fang hesitated, a long silence stretching between them. Finally, he spoke, his voice laced with a bitter unease. “I only heard whispers, fragments of a forgotten tragedy. Two centuries past, the Sword Saint returned… broken. Soon after, shadows fell upon Da Luo Sword Sect. A series of gruesome deaths stained the mountain crimson. Then, from whence it came, a Sword Soul arose, a vengeful spirit of pure, honed steel. It challenged the Sword Saint himself. Afterward…” Shi Fang trailed off, his eyes clouded. “The Sword Soul vanished. Its fate… unknown.”

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing Shi Fang’s facade. He knew the man held back the truth.

“The method you used to seize this body,” Wang Lin said, his voice even, betraying nothing. “Inscribe it upon a jade slip and give it to me.”

Shi Fang’s head snapped up, his eyes locking with Wang Lin’s. “And you? You swear to let me live?”

Wang Lin’s gaze was a chilling pronouncement. “That depends entirely on the truth contained within that slip.”

Shi Fang gritted his teeth. Without a word, he retrieved a blank jade slip, inscribing upon it both the forbidden technique of body snatching and the unsavory method of using a maiden’s vital essence for healing. He tossed the slip to Wang Lin.

Wang Lin caught it with effortless grace. His spiritual sense brushed past the section detailing the lewd healing practice, focusing solely on the intricacies of the body-snatching art.

A flicker of desperate hope ignited in Shi Fang’s eyes. He seized his chance, his body a blur as he launched himself backward, towards the edge of the valley, desperate to escape Wang Lin’s reach.

Wang Lin did not even glance his way. With a flick of his left hand, the swirling gray essence that constantly clung to his finger erupted forth. In the blink of an eye, it tore through the veil of reality, hurtling towards Shi Fang with terrifying speed.

Shi Fang sensed the impending doom. He whirled around, his face contorted in a mask of fury. “Wang Lin! You are no better than a demon!”

He attempted to activate a teleportation spell, but his newly stolen body was weak, its connection to his soul tenuous. He barely mustered a wisp of his former power when the two tendrils of gray energy struck, moving with unnatural swiftness.

Shi Fang’s eyes widened in horror as the gray energy burrowed into his flesh, coursing through his meridians with chilling efficiency.

Three breaths later, a deafening explosion shattered the valley’s silence. Shi Fang’s body disintegrated, a shower of blood and pulverized flesh raining down. Wisps of gray energy, released from the shattered remains, coalesced into a shimmering orb before returning to Wang Lin.

Wang Lin withdrew his spiritual sense from the jade slip, his expression unreadable.

“This hasty method of body snatching… it holds some worth,” he murmured, tucking the slip away. His gaze swept across the landscape, settling on a distant point.

There, trapped between Wan Dao and the ailing Immortal Friend, huddled the Da Luo Sword Sect elder, awaiting Wang Lin’s interrogation.

However, Wang Lin did not immediately approach. With deliberate calm, he walked to the western edge of the valley, to the patch of land where the golden blossoms bloomed. He knelt, examining the radiant flowers, before plucking a single, gleaming Goldenlight Fruit. He held it to his nose, inhaling its intoxicating fragrance.

This action drew the immediate attention of the mosquito-beast, its chitinous body still digesting the essence of Shi Fang. It beat its wings frantically, its multifaceted eyes gleaming with hopeful anticipation.

Even Qian Qin, the woman from the fallen sect, stared at the fruit with a complex mix of longing and resignation. Her own sect had spent millennia searching for this valley and its bounty, only to be displaced by the forces of fate. And now, Wang Lin of the Celestial Fate Sect, had effortlessly claimed what they could not.

“Do not be hasty,” Wang Lin said softly to the mosquito-beast.

The beast buzzed in acknowledgment, its eyes burning with a feral devotion.

Wang Lin held the Goldenlight Fruit, contemplating its potential. He would test it first, see if it could satisfy the lingering hunger within his Celestial Jewel for the element of metal. If it did not, then the mosquito-beast would feast.

The Celestial Jewel, forever changed by the battles within the Vermillion Bird’s Tomb, still hungered for completion, its metallic essence lagging behind the others.