The simmering cauldron bubbled as always, but upon Ouyang Hua’s face, the stew of emotion turned foul. A dawn of stark terror, a dish of bewildered respect, and a garnish of bitter regret were all hastily served upon his features.

“A clash of outsiders… yet ’tis I who must witness it!” As he spoke, a flash of sword-light sliced through the air, and the ancient ward upon the valley shuddered. The spiderweb cracks that marred its surface deepened, widened, and spread like a plague.

Wang Lin chuckled, a mirthless sound, and his right hand delved into his pouch. Forthwith, he produced the Restriction Banner. With a flick of his wrist, it unfurled into the wind, transforming into a swarm of ebony tendrils. With a chorus of mournful whistles, the tendrils snaked into the broken ward, weaving through the myriad fissures like phantom spiders.

Before the very eyes, the cracks in the ward began to heal, merging and sealing with unnatural speed. More than that, infused with the power of the Restriction Banner, the ward’s strength surged tenfold.

His task complete, Wang Lin strode forward, and in the blink of an eye, vanished. He reappeared beyond the valley’s edge, free of its confines.

A mere score of paces away stood the black-clad youth, perched upon his flying blade, a glacial stare upon his face.

Around them, tendrils of violet mist danced like wraiths, and within the swirling maelstrom of demonic energy, spectral beasts flickered into being. Some took fleeting form, while others lunged forth, their feral hunger directed at the two intruders.

With a gesture, Wang Lin extinguished one such apparition. The beast shrieked, a sound swallowed by the ethereal winds, and vanished into nothingness.

The black-clad youth scrutinized Wang Lin, his gaze hardening. The arrogance that had coated his features like fresh paint began to flake away. Hesitantly, he inquired, “Who are you, interloper? From what sect do you hail?” Wang Lin held his right hand aloft, three vortexes of grey energy swirling within. A silent snarl escaped his lips, “Enough prattle. Fight, or begone!”

A bark of laughter, touched with malice, erupted from the youth’s throat. “Such insolence! Were it not that your face holds a flicker of familiarity, lest I strike down a potential ally, I would not waste my breath. Since you court death so eagerly, I shall grant you your wish!”

Wang Lin offered no retort. Even as the words left the youth’s lips, his hand plunged into his pouch, and with a flash of celestial steel, his sword materialized. He took a single stride, and cleaved the air. A blade of pure energy, fully ten spans in length, screamed forth, a bolt of lightning given form.

Simultaneously, the curved blade followed, a viper striking in the wake of the thunder.

The black-clad youth’s countenance paled at the sight of the celestial blade. He recoiled, his voice laced with a newfound urgency, “A disciple of the Great Luo Sword Sect, I presume? Enough! You must know the rules of this accursed place. Yield your crystal, and I shall spare your life!”

The celestial blade reached him with a shriek. He raised his own slender sword in a desperate parry, but the force of the blow drove him back, step after reluctant step. Still, with a final surge of power, he shattered the blade of pure energy.

Yet, in that moment of disintegration, a chorus of metallic cracks rang out. A hairline fracture, no bigger than a silken thread, appeared upon the surface of his own cherished sword.

The youth stared at the imperfection, his eyes widening in disbelief before fixing Wang Lin with a gaze as frigid as the deepest winter.

“You dare mar my blade! Even a scion of the Great Luo Sword Sect shall die for this transgression!” He roared, a primal fury unleashed. With a swift incantation and a flash of arcane gestures, a black flame bloomed in his palm.

“The Flame of Oblivion, to consume all that is!” He whispered, and hurled the black fire forth. Even as it left his hand, it detonated, shattering into a thousand writhing tendrils of darkness, each seeking Wang Lin with unnatural intelligence.

As the inferno descended, a flicker of obsidian light caught the black-clad youth’s eye. His face twisted in a desperate attempt to move, but he was too slow. A crimson bloom erupted upon his right breast, and a look of stark disbelief stole across his features. He staggered backwards, frantically gulping down a restorative elixir.

The curved blade danced in the air, a shadow flirting with the celestial sword. A faint, crimson sheen coated its razor edge.

Wang Lin’s gaze hardened. His opponent was indeed powerful. He knew the curved blade moved with unnatural speed. Even he, Wang Lin, would struggle to survive a surprise attack from it. Yet this youth had managed to forcibly shift his body by a scant three inches, enough to avoid a fatal blow. Such precision bespoke a spiritual force far greater than his own, a mind capable of perceiving the curved blade’s treacherous path.

A chill of dark purpose settled in Wang Lin’s heart. If this one was indeed so powerful, then he must die this day. To allow him to escape would be to invite his own demise, for the youth would undoubtedly learn from this encounter, and return with a vengeance.

Seizing the opportunity afforded by the curved blade’s surprise attack, Wang Lin surged forward, heedless of the falling flames. His speed rivaled a lightning strike, and as he moved, his left thumb rose, and with a practiced motion, he stabbed forward.

The Finger of Everlasting Stillness!

The black-clad youth pressed a hand to his wounded breast, the blood flow staunched, yet a pallor remained. He glared at Wang Lin, the venom of a viper dripping from his gaze, and with a final gesture, he cried:

“Sword Shatter!” With those words, his own fine blade began to vibrate, a keening wail rising as cracks raced across its surface. Then, it exploded, transforming into a storm of golden motes that surged forward, a tempest of destruction aimed squarely at Wang Lin.

Wang Lin’s eyes flashed with a primal understanding. He did not flinch, did not attempt to evade. Instead, two of the three vortexes of grey energy vanished from his fingertips, streaming along the pathways of his meridians with blinding speed, until they settled upon his brow.

Upon his forehead, two intricate runes materialized.

The Marks of Living Sacrifice!

As soon as they appeared, the runes spread, enveloping his entire body in their ethereal light. One mark covered a layer of protection, but two marks doubled the barrier.

Even as the runes spread, the fragments of shattered sword reached him. The Flame of Oblivion descended, forming a cage of dark fire.

At that instant, Wang Lin was beset by a tempest of sword shards, a cage of encroaching black fire. The fire itself had coalesced into six serpentine dragons, each one writhing with malevolent energy. Their roars, echoing through the valley, were like thunderclaps.
The sound crashed upon Wang Lin’s ears, instantly setting his nascent soul aquiver. Then, with roars that ripped the very air, six crimson dragons, fangs bared and claws extended, lunged forth, threatening to devour him whole.

A deafening boom shattered the silence. The sound, an earth-shattering cacophony, echoed for ten thousand leagues, twisting the very sky above. Upon the earth, a web of fissures, fine as spider silk, erupted in a chorus of cracks and groans.

From the epicenter of this raging maelstrom, ripples of raw power emanated, an unstoppable tide surging outward. Even the tempestuous waves of demonic energy that had charged forward were now battered back, forced to retreat far before regaining their composure.

Only after a scant breath did the demonic tides, like a ravenous army, regroup and resume their assault, once again cloaking the landscape in a pall of inky darkness.

The man clad in black stood amidst the encroaching shadows, his face not elated, but etched with grim concern. He inhaled sharply, retreating swiftly for several dozen paces, his hands weaving arcane signs, his gaze riveted upon the point where the fiery dragons had struck. He did not dare blink.

Where the dragons had fallen, swallowed by the swirling vortex of demonic energy, a single figure, silhouetted against the gloom, began to emerge. Step by measured step, he advanced.

The black figure’s garments billowed around him, despite the stillness of the air, emitting sharp, snapping sounds. Within his lowered right hand, whispers of unseen power coiled, revealing the fleeting glimpse of something serpentine slithering between his fingers.

As the shadowed figure continued his slow advance, the black-clad man’s face darkened further. His hands moved faster still, chanting a complex incantation under his breath.

The dark figure walked for several paces, and then, as if cleaved by an invisible blade, the swirling demonic energy surrounding him parted, dividing into two turbulent streams.

In the instant the demonic tide split, the shadowed figure stomped his foot, and vanished in the blink of an eye.

“Ominous!” The black-clad man reacted without hesitation, throwing himself backward. Scarcely had he moved when a shower of silver light, like stardust scattered across the void, erupted. Within this shimmering cascade, a colossal thumb, formed of pure energy, materialized in mid-air, slamming down upon the very spot he had just occupied.

All this transpired in an instant, faster than the flicker of a candle flame.

Close behind the thumb, the black figure materialized. He lifted his head, fixing his gaze upon the black-clad man, now safely distant.

“You will not evade me next time.”

“You are not of the Great Luo Sword Sect. You are, in truth, Tian Yunzi’s newly accepted disciple, Seventh of the Azure lineage, Wang Lin!” The black-clad man spat, his voice laced with cold contempt. “You wield, I suspect, the forbidden art that brought you fame at Tian Yunzi’s birthday feast, the Annihilation Finger!”

The black-clad man’s heart was wracked with frustration. He had heard tales of this Wang Lin, seen his likeness etched in jade scrolls. A disciple of Tian Yunzi was a figure to be noted by every power in Tian Yun Star.

Especially this Wang Lin, who in a single battle, had overcome a multitude of challengers. Were it not for the sudden appearance of Sixth of the Azure lineage, who suppressed Wang Lin with his Ascendant cultivation, the title of Seventh of the Heavenly Fate would surely have been his!

Such a figure could not be ignored, especially one who wielded such a bizarre and potent forbidden art, one capable of overcoming those of greater strength. It was an art many coveted.

The black-clad man cursed inwardly. Had he known the man’s true identity, he would never have engaged so readily. A disciple of Tian Yunzi, though only a Nascent Soul cultivator, was not to be underestimated!

Though Wang Lin had been defeated in his duel with an Ascendant cultivator, he had displayed fearsome power. Moreover, his magical treasures had garnered the attention of numerous factions. The black-clad man knew that even if he were to win, killing Wang Lin would be an impossible task.

For it was known throughout Tian Yun Star that the disciples of Tian Yunzi possessed life-saving treasures, making them, in essence, deathless unless their cultivation disparity was far too great!