The city gates, once ajar, erupted with a cacophony of steel and snarled commands. Guards, their faces contorted in savage masks, spilled forth, encircling the trio of Thirteen, Wang Lin, and the hulking Tiger Roar. Messengers had already flown, wings beating a frantic rhythm, to alert those in positions of greater power.

Beyond the gates, the motley throng of those seeking entrance scattered like leaves before a storm, their eyes glinting with a morbid fascination for the unfolding drama.

“Thirteen!” Wang Lin’s voice, though soft, carried the weight of mountains.

Thirteen, ever the obedient vassal, stepped forward, his expression a mask of humble respect. Even the reprimand of his esteemed ancestor evoked no resentment.

“Your fist,” Wang Lin’s voice was a low rumble, “it lacked refinement.”

Thirteen bowed his head, murmuring his assent. “In my eyes, any who dare show disrespect to the Ancestor are enemies to be crushed!”

Tiger Roar remained a brooding silence, regretting his initial impulse to act. Now, seeing the grim set of Wang Lin’s face, a wave of relief washed over him. It was fortunate he had restrained himself; to earn the Ancestor’s displeasure would have been a heavy price indeed.

Wang Lin shook his head, a weariness in his gaze. “Your strike, though delivered with force, squandered nearly half its power in the execution. You failed to channel it with precise control. How else could that paltry demon soldier have survived? Had your fist truly found its mark, not a single shard of his existence would remain.”

Understanding dawned on Thirteen’s face, and he nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration.

By now, the encircling demon soldiers numbered in the scores, each eye burning with vengeful intent. A guttural roar erupted from their ranks, and with a unified surge, they charged, their crude weapons raised, their demonic energy coalescing into a tangible threat.

The very air crackled with raw power. Dust devils danced across the ground. These were seasoned warriors, each hardened by countless battles. Unleashing their savage fury, they were a force to be reckoned with, capable of pushing back even those of greater cultivation, so long as the disparity was not too great.

“Observe,” Wang Lin declared, his voice cutting through the din. “The path of body refinement differs from that of magic, yet they share a common thread. Though I myself do not tread that path, this single strike shall mirror its effects.” With deliberate ease, Wang Lin clenched his right hand into a fist and unleashed a casual punch into the empty air before him.

The blow connected not with flesh, but with the very fabric of space. A ripple, a shimmering distortion, emanated from the point of impact, spreading outwards in a series of concentric waves. As these invisible tides washed over the charging demon soldiers, their momentum faltered, their forms momentarily frozen as if caught in amber.

Then, with a violent tremor, the waves pulsed outward once more. The soldiers were thrown back with explosive force, retreating faster than they had advanced.

As they staggered back, each warrior paled, and a gout of crimson spewed from their lips.

Wang Lin held his right fist open, palm facing outwards. An unnatural phenomenon took hold. The droplets of blood ejected by the soldiers twisted and warped, coalescing into a single, crimson orb that hovered just above his outstretched hand.

With a flick of his wrist, Wang Lin launched the sphere towards the towering city walls. It streaked through the air like a bolt of ruby lightning.

As the sphere neared its target, a chilling voice echoed from within the city gates. A figure clad in scarlet surged forth, her hand outstretched. Before the blood sphere could reach the ramparts, it imploded, dissolving back into its constituent droplets, which scattered harmlessly.

Wang Lin’s expression remained unchanged. A faint smile played on his lips. “To encounter one from the same realm, so far from home… a most unexpected pleasure.”

The dispersing crimson haze revealed a woman, her form radiating an aura of undeniable power.

Immediately, the demon soldiers dropped to one knee, their voices a unified chorus of obeisance. “Greetings, Yao Meng, Commander!”

Her eyes, sharp as those of a falcon, swept across the group, a frown etching itself onto her face. “Wang Lin!”

A flicker of recognition crossed Wang Lin’s face. He had seen this woman before, outside the gates of the demonic spirit realm, where she had stood out amidst the throng. Her cultivation was considerable, nearing the peak of the Infant Transformation stage.

“It seems my name carries some weight, even on this distant world,” Wang Lin remarked, taking a single step forward.

With that step, an aura of palpable menace erupted from Wang Lin, sweeping across the scene like a raging tide.

The woman, her brow furrowed, took a step back, her voice regaining its composure. “I did not expect to find you here, within the Heavenly Demon Prefecture. You seek a position, I presume, to earn merit in war. Our conflict would be… pointless.”

With that, she turned and strode towards the city gates.

Wang Lin merely smiled and followed, Thirteen and Tiger Roar close behind.

The scarlet-clad woman continued her pace, not directly into the city, but towards a plaza on the right side of the city, where a massive teleportation array dominated the scene.

Guards stood vigil around the array, each displaying unwavering reverence as the woman passed.

Pausing at the edge of the array, she turned back to Wang Lin, her expression still cold. “Come with me to see the Left Wing Demon General. This ancient demon city is under his command. Gaining a position here requires his approval, and his alone.”

Wang Lin nodded, instructing Thirteen and Tiger Roar to wait for him within the city. He stepped onto the array.

As he did, the intricate runes carved into the surface glowed to life. With a surge of blinding light, Wang Lin and the scarlet-clad woman vanished.

After a moment of disorienting transition, Wang Lin found himself in a new location. Towering before him was a colossal structure, a magnificent palace that pierced the heavens.

Within its depths stood a massive statue, its form that of a heavily armored warrior. A tangible aura of raw demonic energy emanated from the statue, churning the skies above into a swirling vortex of power.
The white-robed woman emerged from the arcane circle, her voice as cold as glacial winds. “Warlord, I have brought the one you requested!”

Before her words could fully dissipate, a booming laugh echoed from within the palace, resonating with unrestrained mirth. Upon the colossal statue, a figure materialized with blinding speed, descending to hover in the air. His features were unremarkable, yet etched with the raw essence of a seasoned warrior. Adorned in a violet robe, his arms were thick as ancient tree trunks. An aura of undeniable power radiated from him, pressing down upon all who dared stand before him.

His gaze, sharp as a falcon’s, pierced through the air, fixing upon Wang Lin. “So, you are the outsider who dared to strike my soldiers outside the walls?” he bellowed, his voice laced with amusement.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. The brute’s demonic energy was carefully contained, easily missed by untrained eyes. But Wang Lin, with his honed senses, perceived the immense power hidden within. The demon essence swirling within him was comparable to the power of tens of thousands of armored legions. This meant the warlord’s cultivation was nearly equivalent to an Ascendant realm master!

In this Demon Spirit Land, the scale was known: Three Stars equaled one legion of armor, three legions formed a Foundation, thirty a Core, three hundred an Infant Soul, three thousand a Transformation, thirty thousand an Infant Change, and three hundred thousand the Ascendant peak!

“Indeed,” Wang Lin replied, his head held high, his expression serene.

The warlord’s gaze intensified. With a hearty laugh, he took several steps forward, defying gravity. His right fist shot out with the suddenness of lightning, yet strangely, no sound accompanied its swift strike. Though aimed at the empty air, its power surged invisibly, rushing towards Wang Lin.

Wang Lin remained unperturbed. With a calm flick of his sleeve, he extended his right thumb, pressing it directly into the void.

“The Extinction Finger!” the white-robed woman whispered, her eyes widening.

As his finger made contact, the space around Wang Lin, a hundred paces in every direction, became a realm of deathly silence. As if every trace of vitality was sucked away and focused onto his fingertip.

The moment he unleashed the Extinction Finger, a deafening boom ripped through the space between him and the warlord. Wang Lin staggered back three steps, a chilling light flashing in his eyes.

The warlord, hovering in the air, retracted his fist. He swayed slightly, his eyes blazing with respect. “Good! I am airborne, using the advantage of leverage, but with a single finger, you have earned a place as an Elder within my fortress!”

Wang Lin’s expression remained composed. He shook his head. “An internal position holds no appeal for Wang.”

The warlord’s gaze sharpened, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “Your understanding of the Demon Spirit Land exceeds my expectations! You even know the difference between internal and external positions!”

The memory of his ancestors in Luo Yun’s mind revealed the structure: in this land, the ranks were divided. Officers and Elders were internal positions with no authority over troops. Only Commanders and Generals held external positions with real power.

“The Demon Emperor has decreed that you outsiders, if strong enough, may be granted any station!” The warlord chuckled. “Little one, if you wish to grasp an external position, you must show me true strength. That single finger was not enough!”

Wang Lin took a deep breath, gathering his Qi and focusing his mind. “You may continue,” he stated.

A flicker of approval crossed the warlord’s face. Without further delay, he threw a punch at the void, only to retract it instantly. Then another, and another.

His speed was astonishing, unleashing ten punches in the blink of an eye. The space before him began to crack and shatter, but the very fabric of reality seemed to resist, holding back the total collapse.

“If you can withstand my Tenfold Ruin Battle Intent, you will be a Commander!” the warlord roared, his right hand slicing through the air as if grasping something unseen, something emerging from the very point of destruction. With a mighty heave, he hurled it towards Wang Lin.

The Tenfold Ruin Battle Intent held no physical form. It travelled from the void, merging with nothingness. A distillation of the Warlord’s ten punches, it held all of his demonic energy and, more terrifying, his entire life’s worth of battle lust.

Tenfold Ruin was an attack with ten changes, ten destructions. With each successive collapse adding to the previous one, the tenth collapse reached an incomprehensible level of power. Such a technique was rare, even in the vast cultivation world. This was the first time Wang Lin had faced such a thing.

The instant the Tenfold Ruin Battle Intent reached him, Wang Lin recognized its intricacies. His eyes ignited with a fierce light. He stepped back, his feet planted firmly on the ground, unmoving as an ancient pine. Abandoning all thought of using a treasure, he summoned the aura of gray power to his right hand, invoking the Slaughtering Immortal Art.

Simultaneously, he extended his right index finger, channeling the Demon Transformation Finger. His immortal energy inverted, becoming streams of demonic energy that flowed to his fingertip.