Sima Mo shuddered as the sibilant whisper of the Voice of the Tides washed over him, a chilling current that stiffened his limbs with unnatural cold.

“Half a year after your departure, both he and the other vanished without a trace! Their whereabouts remain unknown to me.”

Wang Lin cast a glacial glare upon Sima Yan, deeming him unworthy of further words. With the swiftness of a falcon’s dive, his left hand formed the sword-seal, and his fingertips pierced the space between Sima Yan’s brows. The Soul-Search Art, a forbidden practice, was unleashed once more.

Sima Yan’s body convulsed violently. Crimson ichor seeped from his seven orifices, his eyes bulging as if about to burst from their sockets.

Wang Lin’s spiritual sense plunged into the depths of Sima Yan’s mind, ruthlessly dissecting the memories of the past year. Every moment, every secret, was laid bare before Wang Lin’s eyes.

Half a year after he had gone, Thirteen and the Tiger Howl had clashed with heated words. The Tiger Howl, weary of waiting, desired to abandon the garrison and return to his tribe. Thirteen, however, remained steadfast in his devotion, vowing to await Wang Lin’s return.

Ultimately, the Tiger Howl attempted to depart, but his escape was thwarted. Sima Yan, with effortless ease, seized the unfortunate warrior, and on the pretext of violating military regulations, crippled his cultivation, casting him into the Black Iron Prison. Three moons later, the Tiger Howl vanished from his confinement, his disappearance shrouded in mystery.

The Black Iron Prison was a fortress, its defenses impenetrable. Even Sima Yan himself could not fathom how the Tiger Howl had slipped away.

As for Thirteen, when Sima Yan moved to capture the Tiger Howl, he intervened, attempting to aid his comrade. But his efforts were futile. Sima Yan crushed his bones and sinews, preparing to cast him into the same abyss. However, Du Wen, a compassionate soul, intervened, rescuing the dying Thirteen and spiriting him away to safety.

These memories surged through Wang Lin’s mind, igniting a fury so profound that it twisted into a sardonic smile. He uttered three chilling words: “Good, good, good!”

His eyes, now burning with an icy intensity, locked onto Sima Yan’s dilated pupils. The Slaughter Immortal Art surged through his veins, and before their very eyes, Sima Yan’s body began to wither, the vibrant flesh shrinking and decaying with horrifying speed.

Within a handful of breaths, Sima Yan’s body crumbled into a heap of bloody ruin. As the carrion lay scattered, wisps of grey vapor rose from the gore, coalescing between Wang Lin’s fingers.

The Slaughter Immortal Essence, a power notoriously difficult to forge, had been extracted from Sima Yan’s very being, fueled by Wang Lin’s incandescent rage.

With Sima Yan’s demise, Wang Lin turned his gaze towards the black-armored brute who stood in the distance. In Sima Yan’s memories, it was this very man who had carried the near-dead Thirteen to safety.

Wang Lin strode forward, his footfalls echoing with suppressed fury. In a single step, he stood before the warrior, his voice a chilling rasp.

“Where is Thirteen?”

The black-armored warrior met Wang Lin’s gaze, his expression hardening. “You speak of the savage whom Sima Yan crippled half a year ago? If it is him you seek, then your quest is futile.

“Lord Demon General decreed, years ago, that those of exceptional physical resilience be sought out. This savage possessed a physique of remarkable density, his very bones imbued with an unnatural strength. He met the Demon General’s requirements. I healed his wounds and presented him to the Demon General.

“Commander Wang, if you possess the mettle, do not waste your breath on me. Dare you demand his return from the Demon General himself? Fear not, for this matter involves the Demon General, and I would not dare utter a falsehood!” The warrior sneered at Wang Lin.

“You saved Thirteen… only to offer him as tribute?” Wang Lin’s face was a mask of thunderous rage. “Your deeds balance each other. I will spare your life.” With that, he surged forward, his body dissolving into a wisp of emerald mist, ascending towards the heavens, his course set for the palace at the heart of the Ancient Demon City, the Demon General’s abode.

As he spoke, the black-armored warrior had prepared himself for death, his life forfeit when he had failed against Wang Lin. But now, he was taken aback.

He watched the emerald mist vanish into the sky. After a moment’s hesitation, he spoke, “Lord Demon General entered seclusion half a year ago. All teleportation arrays are sealed. If you wish to reach him, you must breach the palace. My words are spent.”

With a sigh, he clutched his chest, turning and limping towards his quarters, seeking the solace of seclusion to mend his wounds.

Wang Lin, in his form of emerald mist, scanned the city with his divine sense. Every teleportation array leading to the Demon General’s palace was sealed, the barriers locked from within. Only the Demon General himself could release them.

“Thirteen and the Tiger Howl were brought here by my hand, and yet I am the cause of their suffering,” Wang Lin lamented inwardly. He had not foreseen that he would fall into a deep slumber within the cave dwelling, unwittingly condemning Thirteen and the Tiger Howl to their fates.

“In this world, there are paths to be walked, and others to be shunned. A cultivator seeks longevity, seeks freedom from the dictates of fate, and should therefore avoid danger and embrace fortune! Thirteen and the Tiger Howl are not kin to me. To defy the Demon General, to storm the palace, for their sake… is to defy the Heavenly Demon Province itself!

“It is said that a wise man does not stand beneath a crumbling wall. This act is folly!”

“But I, Wang Lin, walk the path between heaven and earth, seeking not conformity nor celestial favor, but a life free from regret. I am neither a sage nor a scoundrel, neither virtuous nor treacherous, but simply a being who believes that some deeds, driven by conviction, must be done!”

“From this, it is clear that I am ill-suited to be a cultivator!”

“Yet, certain things I *must* do! If I do not save Thirteen, then what kind of Dao am I seeking in my lifetime?” Wang Lin raised his gaze towards the heavens, his resolve unwavering.

From the garrison to the Demon General’s palace, there were six gates. Without the use of teleportation arrays, he would have to breach them one by one to reach his destination.

The six gates were heavily guarded, wreathed in arcane formations that rendered instantaneous transport impossible.

Wang Lin emerged at the sixth gate. Before him stood a towering edifice, thirty feet high, connected to the outer walls. The light of protective seals pulsed across its surface.

As soon as Wang Lin appeared, a shout rang out from the guards below.

“Halt, traveler! Retreat at once! Take another step, and face death!”

Wang Lin raised his head, his eyes burning with glacial fury. He drew a deep breath and reached into his storage sack. His Immortal Sword materialized before him, a halo of power encircling him, even as the anguished howls of Xu Liguo echoed from within.

The moment the Immortal Sword appeared, the guards outside the sixth gate locked onto Wang Lin, their eyes blazing with murderous intent.

Wang Lin took a single step forward. The guards surged forth, unleashing their demonic powers, intent on stopping him.
Before him stood a legion of grotesque sprites, yet Wang Lin faltered not. Each stride was deliberate, each footfall a decree. About him, his celestial blade sang a mournful hymn, a deadly chorus preceding his every step. Those who dared impede his progress first met the searing bite of its ethereal edge.

A symphony of anguished cries echoed through the courtyards as Wang Lin vaulted forward, mounting his enchanted companion. Together, they charged towards the Sixth Gate. Even before his physical form arrived, the sword’s essence, a shimmering ten-丈* beacon, crashed upon the gate’s defenses.

“BOOM!”

The Sixth Gate shattered, its fragments hurled backward in a chaotic wave, sweeping across the plaza between it and the Fifth Gate. Thousands of impish soldiers, gathered there, were engulfed in the debris storm, forced to retreat before the celestial onslaught.

As the Sixth Gate crumbled, Wang Lin strode through the breach.

“I demand audience with the Demon General!” His voice, though calm, resonated with an undeniable authority, carrying through the chaos.

“Slay him!” A bloodcurdling roar erupted from the thousands of soldiers remaining in the plaza. Their purpose was clear: to extinguish any who dared trespass upon the Demon General Tian Guan’s domain.

Undaunted by the sea of grotesque faces, Wang Lin remained composed, his eyes like chips of glacial ice. He surged forward, the soles of his boots carving runes of defiance into the stone. With a swift gesture, he wove his fingers into a potent incantation, unleashing a tempestuous wind that spiraled into a raging vortex. The howling gale tore through the plaza, carving a path of desolation through the ranks of the demon soldiery.

Wang Lin traversed the decimated plaza, arriving before the imposing Fifth Gate.

Without hesitation, he channeled his celestial energy, pressing his hand against the unyielding barrier.

“CRACK!”

The Fifth Gate imploded, its remnants flung outward like a violent, swirling storm.

Beyond the fallen gate, a force of ten thousand soldiers, alerted to the intrusion, stood ready. As the Fifth Gate shattered, they unleashed a unified battle cry, their collective demon energies coalescing into a palpable wave of malevolence.

At the moment of the gate’s destruction, this foul aura surged forward.

Even with Wang Lin’s formidable cultivation, he was forced to retreat, granting temporary respite to the onslaught. He reached into his enchanted pouch, withdrawing three unadorned sword scabbards, relics of his journey to the Vermilion Bird Star.

Instantly, three dragons of pure sword energy erupted from the sheaths, hurtling into the fray, colliding with the wave of demon energy.

The ensuing explosion reverberated like the earth itself tearing asunder.

Wang Lin transformed into a bolt of lightning, his celestial blade cleaving the path before him, as he entered the Fifth Gate. There, he faced a wall of demon energy, ten thousand soldiers united in their attempt to bar his advance.

His eyes blazing, Wang Lin retrieved the Forbidden Banner, unleashing a torrent of chaotic energy. The multitude of sigils manifested as dark, serpentine tendrils that coiled around him.

Empowered by the scabbards’ unleashed power, the celestial blade’s shimmering edge, and the banner’s swirling vortex, Wang Lin surged forward, unstoppable.

Meanwhile, the thousands of sprites from the outer gates surged through the breaches, forming a deadly encirclement.

“Demon General, Wang Lin seeks audience!” His voice echoed with unwavering resolve, confident that even sequestered, the Demon General could not ignore his challenge.

Yet, as moments bled into an eternity of battle, the Demon General offered no response.

Now surrounded, the chill of death settled within Wang Lin’s gaze. Though he had sought to avoid needless slaughter, the hour for restraint had passed.

Facing the encirclement, Wang Lin raised a thumb, unleashing the devastating might of the Obliteration Finger. The heavens themselves seemed to recoil, as within a hundred *zhang* radius, every demon soldier faltered. Their bodies withered, their essence violently drawn into Wang Lin’s fingertip.

He moved like a wraith, hurtling toward the Fourth Gate, none able to impede his advance.

His thumb pressed against the Fourth Gate.

“BOOM!” The gate crumbled, and from within, an aged figure emerged. A tidal wave of demon energy, coalescing into a monstrous serpent, erupted forth, jaws agape to devour Wang Lin whole.

“Withdraw!” A voice, ancient and commanding, thundered.

Wang Lin’s fingertip met the serpent of demon energy. For the first time, Wang Lin was forced to step back. The monstrous serpent wailed as its form disintegrated. Behind it, the aged figure staggered, coughing, and retreated several steps before regaining his footing.

Wang Lin pressed onward, stepping through the shattered Fourth Gate, confronting not only a sea of demon soldiers, but also an old man with wild, gray hair.

Wang Lin recognized the elder. He was the same man who, over a year ago, accompanied the Supervising Military Advisor to the Black Armor Legion.

The old man’s face was ashen, his eyes wide with disbelief. He had witnessed Wang Lin’s presence over a year ago. At that time, his cultivation was roughly equivalent. Yet today, it had exploded. Had the elder not leveraged the momentum of his demonic army while simultaneously releasing all the seals within his body, launching a near-fatal ambush, he was certain the intruder would not have moved an inch.

As Wang Lin entered the courtyard, he once again released the devastating might of the Obliteration Finger. The elder roared, unleashing his demon energy once more, reforming the monstrous serpent. He merged with the beast, again lunging to consume Wang Lin.

“Since the Demon General refuses to appear, then Wang Lin shall not be held responsible for the carnage to come!” Icy resolve solidified Wang Lin’s gaze, and the grey, murderous mist festering between his fingers scattered, enveloping the courtyard.

His eyes glowed with an unholy crimson light, overflowing with the intent to slaughter. In that moment, Wang Lin invoked the power of the Slaughter Immortal Art without reservation.

The air thrummed with bloody intent. Rather than confront the serpent, Wang Lin moved with blinding speed, plunging into the ranks of the enemy. With each gesture, spells unleashed, soldiers were dispatched to the grave.

The remaining sprites emerging from the Fifth and Sixth Gates, tens of thousands in all, surrounded Wang Lin, launching their assault. They were a formidable army, coordinated and trained to exploit intricate formations.

As these formations manifested, the sprites pooled their energy into constructs, manifesting demonic apparitions and conjuring instruments of destruction. Amidst the deafening thunder and the kaleidoscopic eruption of spells, they launched a relentless assault.

In this moment, a clear understanding washed over Wang Lin: in the land of the demon spirits, no single being can defy the heavens.

*丈 (zhàng): A Chinese unit of measurement, approximately 3.3 meters or 11 feet.
Against such a horde, unless one commanded the very heavens with divine abilities, to break free from the array-forged demon energies would prove nigh impossible!

He could slay one, ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand! Yet, after such carnage, his celestial energy would be utterly depleted.

Wang Lin’s enchanted armaments, the curved Immortal Blade, the forbidding Banner, danced around him, guided by his spirit sense, unleashing a relentless slaughter. Yet, even these pale in comparison to his Killing Immortal Art, which granted him an ever-growing advantage. With each fallen foe, the Art’s power swelled. Though perhaps only one in a hundred yielded the faintest wisp of grey essence, with the continuing carnage, the odds shifted ever in his favor.

A crimson haze of battle clouded Wang Lin’s eyes as spells and arcane arts flowed ceaselessly from his hands.

But the demon soldiery was vast, their combined demonic powers forming formidable attacks of their own. Thus, even with Wang Lin’s Late-Stage Infant Transformation cultivation, his celestial energy waned at an alarming rate.

With a swift motion, Wang Lin retrieved a pouch, and a torrent of celestial jade shards erupted forth, orbiting his form. With a single, desperate inhalation, the jade turned to ash, its celestial energy flowing into him, desperately replenishing his dwindling reserves. This cycle continued, the jade disappearing at a terrifying pace.

“Demonic Transformation Finger!” Wang Lin cried, refusing to succumb to the dark whispers within. Drawing upon his Late-Stage Infant Transformation power, he unleashed the second deadly form. As the Demonic Transformation manifested, a tempest of demonic power blasted outwards, scattering the assembled demons. Wang Lin’s right forefinger became an instrument of death, a beckoning finger of Yama himself. Where it pointed, within a hundred paces, bodies erupted in a cacophony of explosions, the demonic energy having twisted the demon soldiers from within, forcing them to self-destruct.

The land became painted with ichor as Wang Lin, heedless of the carnage, strode forward, carving a path of blood through the tens of thousands of demons, his goal: the Third Gate!

From the bloody ground where he stood, a swirling vortex of crimson flowed up along the trajectory of the Demonic Transformation Finger, forming a blood serpent that streaked towards the gate. An elder, transformed into a colossal serpent himself, attempted to intercept the blood dragon. But even as he moved to intervene, he was rent asunder, annihilated by the terrible power.

He perished before the Demonic Transformation Finger could strike!

The blood dragon, summoned by the Demonic Transformation Finger, crashed into the Third Gate. A cataclysmic roar reverberated across the battlefield, and then, the Third Gate crumbled!

Amidst the ruins, tens of thousands more demons poured forth. And within this new tide, five white-haired elders emerged. Their eyes burned with malevolent power. They surveyed the battlefield, and quickly their gaze landed upon Wang Lin.

A sigh escaped Wang Lin’s lips. Reaching this point was his limit. Each of the five newcomers possessed power equivalent to a Late-Stage Infant Transformation cultivator.

Combined with the countless demon soldiers, Wang Lin knew that to breach the next gate, he must unleash the ultimate technique, the deadliest art within his repertoire.

The killing blow taught to him by Situ Nan, the most powerful, earth-shattering technique he possessed, one that brushed against the very hem of Lower-Grade Immortal Arts!

“In these lands of the demon spirits, strength in numbers is paramount.” He murmured, “Indeed, if I commanded hundreds of thousands of demons, each no weaker than Core Formation level, even an Ascendant cultivator would be hard-pressed to prevail!”

“If I led millions of demons, each surpassing Core Formation, bolstered by commanders and officers in a disciplined array, I would dare challenge even a Late-Stage Ascendant cultivator!”

“And if I were to claim the title of Demon Emperor, commanding legions beyond count, with Demon Generals and Marshals at my command, even a cultivator who had achieved the true and false duality of Ascendant would have cause to fear!”

With a long sigh, Wang Lin faced the tens of thousands of demons and the five Infant Transformation elders. He raised his right little finger, moving it in a slow, deliberate sweep across the battlefield.

“Yellow Springs!”

The two words were softly spoken.

The Yellow Springs Finger, the ultimate of the three deadly forms! An art so potent, so close to a Lower-Grade Immortal Technique, that even Situ Nan had hesitated before imparting it.

As his finger moved, the sky above darkened, a single stroke of lightning flashed, splitting the heavens. As the light faded, a vast landscape scroll unfurled above, stretching from horizon to horizon.

With the execution of the Yellow Springs Finger, Wang Lin touched upon a realm of profound intent. Wafts of grey essence began to emanate from the painted sky, expanding at an impossible rate, coalescing into a second, ethereal Yellow Springs Finger.

Wang Lin’s hair whipped around him, untouched by any breeze. His eyes burned with the heat of a thousand battles. Grey essence swirled around him, mirroring the ethereal Yellow Springs Finger above.

As the spectral finger moved, those demons who surrounded Wang Lin froze as a torrent of grey essence suddenly erupted from each of their heads, spiraling upwards to feed the celestial copy of the Yellow Springs Finger.

Simultaneously, Wang Lin ascended, merging his being with the celestial projection. In that instant, heaven and earth contained only the Finger!

One Finger to open the Yellow Springs!

Merged with the ethereal Finger, Wang Lin burst forth, hurtling towards the Second Gate.

The five elders, despite their awe at the power of the Yellow Springs Finger, gritted their teeth and charged forward, unleashing their demonic power in a desperate attempt to halt him.

But they underestimated the true might of the Finger. Even in his Middle-Stage Infant Transformation, Wang Lin had used the Yellow Springs Finger to contend with the Ascendant Bei Tao. Though he was defeated, the Finger had left a lasting impression, leaving Bei Tao profoundly shaken!

Now, with Wang Lin at the peak of Late-Stage Infant Transformation, the Yellow Springs Finger in his hand could threaten even Ascendant cultivators!

This, truly, was Wang Lin’s final, deadly trump card!

With the Finger’s power unleashed, the five elders coughed blood. They reeled backwards, unable to impede Wang Lin by even a single step.

The Second Gate, though not yet reached, began to disintegrate in the Yellow Spring Finger’s path. Within the shattered remains, no demon soldier could stand before him, save one solitary figure.

The one who remained was short in stature, but his eyes burned with inner power. As the Second Gate shattered, and as Wang Lin’s Yellow Spring Finger drew near, the final figure unleashed a guttural roar. His hands moved in a blur, as if performing a mystic incantation, the hand seals overlapping before he thrust them forward.

A sound like the wind-whipped earth, followed by a shockwave, reverberated across the battlefield, Wang Lin’s Yellow Springs Finger froze a scant three inches from the final figure’s hands, in that space between hand and power, a small ball of pure light erupted, its white surface laced with roiling black lightning that threatened to consume everything in its path.
The diminutive warrior, after withstanding for a scant three breaths, was violently thrown back, gouging deep furrows into the earth. He retreated not by his own will, but propelled by the inexorable force of Wang Lin’s Yellow Springs Finger!

Retreat he must, for he knew that further resistance would be futile, ending only in the shattering of his very being.

He was blasted back a hundred paces, halting only with a guttural cry. Wang Lin’s spectral digit, hovering a mere three inches from his palm, pulsed like a vortex, relentlessly draining his life force.

“Warlord Wang! I am the First Captain beneath the banner of Lord Demon General! What madness drives you?”

“I demand audience with the Demon General!” Wang Lin’s words echoed with a chilling resonance. From beyond the shattered Second Gate, the tens of thousands of demonic soldiers released another torrent of ashen vapor, spectral tendrils that snaked across the battlefield, merging into Wang Lin’s form.

This was the power of the Yellow Springs Finger!

Each wisp of gray was a stolen life, a truth known deep within Wang Lin’s soul. As the spirits flowed into him, the power of the Yellow Springs Finger surged to its zenith!

The diminutive warrior felt the weight of this dreadful culmination. His face contorted in horror as he staggered back once more.

This time, his retreat ended only at the threshold of the First Gate. With a resounding crash, the ancient portal crumbled!

A gout of black blood erupted from the warrior’s lips as he was hurled aside. In that instant, a colossal figure emerged from the shattered First Gate. Without a word, the giant raised a fist, meeting Wang Lin’s Yellow Springs Finger head-on!

In that single moment, Wang Lin was overwhelmed by the sheer, unbridled battle lust radiating from the incoming blow.

The Decimation Fist!

Like a raging flood, a torrent of destructive intent crashed upon him, each blow stronger than the last. First Decimation, then Second, Third… The Decimation Fist raged, wave upon relentless wave.

Seventh, Eighth, Ninth Decimation! An infinite surge of power, as if the very heavens and earth had been compressed into a single point, descended upon him. Wang Lin’s Yellow Springs Finger glowed with a malevolent light, his eyes blazing with a crimson lust for annihilation. Tenth Decimation! The world exploded. The ground around Wang Lin and the titanic figure buckled and ripped, erupting into a tidal wave of earth that swept outward for ten leagues.