“Halt, stranger!” The words, laced with a palpable killing intent, boomed from within the Black Armor Legion’s encampment.

Simultaneously, a ripple of darkness pulsed outwards from the fortress walls, coalescing into a barrier of swirling, inky mist.

Inside, ten thousand Black Armor Legionnaires stood at rigid attention in the heart of the camp. Before them stood a towering figure clad in obsidian plate, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed upon the approaching figure beyond the gates.

At his side stood Sima Yan, his posture radiating obsequious respect for the imposing warrior. Flanking the armored giant were three more figures similarly clad in black, their bearing suggesting they were lieutenants, each mirroring Sima Yan’s deference.

Wang Lin, a blur of motion like a falling star, did not hesitate. As he neared the wall of black mist, a chilling snort escaped his lips. The raw power of his celestial essence erupted outwards, instantly dissolving the barrier. The inky tendrils recoiled, revealing a clear passage, through which Wang Lin strode with unflinching purpose.

The Black Armor commander cast a withering glare upon Wang Lin, then with a flick of his gauntleted hand, bellowed, “Intruder! Show no mercy!”

Without a word, the three lieutenants surged forward like bolts of shadow, their forms blurring. Sima Yan recognized Wang Lin instantly. A moment of conflict flickered across his face before he grit his teeth and joined the charge. Three of the lieutenants possessed cultivation equivalent to the nascent soul stage, while the fourth commanded power akin to a mid-stage cultivator. Before his sojourn into the ancient cave, such an assault would have presented a considerable obstacle, demanding time and effort to overcome.

But now, Wang Lin’s mastery had reached the zenith of the nascent soul stage, placing him amongst the elite of that realm. He beheld the approaching quartet with serene indifference, his expression unchanged.

“Fall back,” Wang Lin commanded, remaining rooted to the spot.

Though softly spoken, his voice resonated with the accumulated celestial power of a nascent soul master, a thunderous roar crashing against the lieutenants’ ears.

The mid-stage cultivator alone managed to maintain his momentum, though his face betrayed a flicker of unease. The remaining three, their cultivation comparatively weaker, paled as their minds reeled. Their advance faltered, their bodies involuntarily halting before the sheer force of Wang Lin’s presence.

Their power, though significant, paled in comparison to Wang Lin, who stood at the precipice of his cultivation, a master of his domain.

Wang Lin advanced, his steps slow but deliberate, each footfall imbued with unwavering resolve. The mid-stage lieutenant instinctively stepped aside, daring not impede his progress.

Fear pulsed through the remaining three, particularly Sima Yan. He averted his gaze, recalling a past brush with Wang Lin’s power. He silently cursed his fortune, knowing he would never have dared to provoke this man had he known the extent of his strength.

Then, he remembered the fate of Thirteen and Hu Pao, and a fresh wave of regret washed over him.

As Wang Lin walked forward, the ten thousand legionnaires parted, forming a pathway. Memories of Wang Lin’s deeds resurfaced in their minds, rekindling the complex mixture of respect and apprehension they held for the enigmatic former commander.

Some amongst the ranks were new recruits, unfamiliar with Wang Lin. Yet, witnessing their lieutenants’ hesitation and sensing the palpable aura of power surrounding Wang Lin, they too instinctively yielded.

In mere moments, a clear corridor stretched before Wang Lin, leading directly to the obsidian-clad commander. The commander’s gaze remained unwavering, though a sense of gathering tension emanated from him.

His stare was cold, but Wang Lin’s was colder. He was a shard of glacial ice, each step resonating with a chilling stillness, drawing ever closer to the Black Armor commander.

The soldiers flanking the corridor, already standing a distance away, edged back further, overcome by a suffocating pressure.

The commander’s tension reached a breaking point. With a guttural roar, he took a single step forward!

A wave of raw energy exploded outwards, unseen yet acutely felt by the surrounding soldiers, forcing them back.

Wang Lin remained unmoved, his pace unwavering. The commander’s power washed over him, dissipating without effect. Wang Lin’s gaze pierced the commander’s defenses, perceiving his cultivation to be the late stage of the nascent soul realm, but short of the perfected state.

With each step, Wang Lin’s own power intensified. Frost bloomed upon the earth beneath his feet, spreading outwards like a creeping winter.

The Black Armor commander found himself on the defensive, a suffocating pressure constricting his chest. It was a sensation he only experienced in the presence of the demon generals. He fought the urge to retreat, knowing that any backward step would shatter his resolve and invite immediate attack. Yet, the increasing weight, the invisible force converging upon him, was almost unbearable.

Finally, when only twenty paces separated them, sweat beaded upon the commander’s brow. “Commander Wang Lin!” he roared. “What is your purpose here?”

“This is my legion,” Wang Lin replied, his voice even, his step unwavering. “What do you think my purpose is?”

The Black Armor commander felt an overwhelming weight descend upon him, as if countless mountains were bearing down. He fought back the urge to falter, shouting, “You have been absent for over a year! Your command has already been revoked by the demon general!”
“A year… only a year has passed!” Wang Lin breathed a sigh of relief, yet his aura intensified, a palpable force in the air.

“Where are my two companions?” Before even setting foot within this military camp, Wang Lin had unleashed his divine sense, scouring the grounds. Yet, he found no trace of Thirteenth nor the tiger-roar.

Now, a mere dozen paces separated him from the black-armored brute!

Waves of oppressive force, akin to a primordial beast unleashed, crashed against the armored warrior. He struggled to maintain his stance. As a Dutong, a commander of such rank, he could not allow himself to be cowed by the mere presence of a Xiaoling, a subordinate. Though, it was undeniable, this Xiaoling possessed power far exceeding his own.

Wang Lin saw it in his eyes, the flicker of defiance struggling against the rising tide. He surged forward, taking seven steps, each one a thunderclap.

With each stride, the black-armored warrior felt Wang Lin’s aura swell, a towering mountain rising from a placid plain. He could resist no longer. Involuntarily, he stumbled back a pace.

That single step shattered the dam. His own power waned, and Wang Lin’s aura surged to an impossible apex in the blink of an eye.

“No good!” The Dutong’s face contorted. A chilling glint flashed in Wang Lin’s eyes as he became a blur of motion, charging with the speed of lightning.

The full might of his late-stage Nascent Soul perfection cultivation erupted, flooding the area.

Reeling, the Dutong raised his fists, slamming them together before him. A deafening boom echoed, unleashing a wave of sonic force. At the same moment, his demonic energy surged, manifesting a gargantuan Black Tortoise, its shell covered in countless spikes, its serpentine tail thrashing, leaving black fissures in the air where it lashed out.

Wang Lin strode through the air, a phantom of speed. He raised his thumb, and the Finger of Extinction ripped through the air. Having reached the pinnacle of Nascent Soul, the power of this technique had grown exponentially.

One touch of this finger, and the soldiers nearby would have been sucked dry, their very essence devoured. Even at a distance, they felt the pull, their demonic energy being siphoned away.

From all corners of the camp, demonic energy swirled, rushing towards Wang Lin’s outstretched thumb. Some unlucky soldiers, too close and unfamiliar with the Xiaoling’s terrifying power, found their flesh turning to dust, their life essence seeping from their orifices.

A nearby Sima, sensing the danger, dragged the petrified soldiers away, saving them from certain doom.

Wang Lin’s Finger of Extinction rent the heavens. Darkness enveloped the military camp, and the sonic wave emanating from the Dutong’s clash of fists shattered.

Without pause, Wang Lin pressed his thumb forward.

In that instant, the power of a hundred leagues seemed to converge on that single point. The Black-Armored Dutong felt as though he were battling the very heavens themselves.

With a roar, he merged with the phantom Black Tortoise, his eyes burning with an otherworldly light. Here, in this land of demons, Wang Lin witnessed the true might of the native demonic arts for the first time.

As the Dutong became one with the Tortoise, the creature roared, its tail lashing out in a furious strike towards Wang Lin.

His eyes like ice, Wang Lin pressed the Finger of Extinction forward, meeting the Tortoise’s tail head-on. Silently, insidiously, the tail disintegrated, the decay spreading through the entire form.

The gulf between a perfected Nascent Soul and a mere late-stage Nascent Soul was a chasm impassable to most. But Wang Lin’s techniques were extraordinary, his Finger of Extinction verging on the realm of Ascendant.

The Black Tortoise crumbled, and the Dutong, his armor shattered, spat a mouthful of blood and stumbled back, collapsing to one knee.

“Demonic arts,” Wang Lin said coldly, “they possess a certain strength.” Had this been a human cultivator, this strike would have left him crippled, his cultivation ruined. But this demon, though wounded, remained untouched at his core.

Wang Lin reached behind him, grabbing Sima Yan by the collar and hauling him forward.

“Where are my companions?” His voice, like a winter’s gale, pierced Sima Yan’s heart.