A mournful gust, born of some unseen sorrow, swept across the vast Obsidian Plaza, carrying with it whispers of forgotten ages. It stirred the myriad banners that adorned the arena, causing them to snap and crack with a sound like distant thunder, and scattered fallen petals like a shower of sorrowful tears.

Wang Lin, clad in pristine white robes, stood as an island against the tide of the wind. His long, obsidian hair danced around him, a dark halo against the gathering storm clouds overhead. He gazed skyward, his face an unreadable mask of serenity. The clamor and anticipation that filled the plaza seemed to roll off him like water from a stone, as though he were merely a traveler passing through a dream.

From the tiered platforms ringing the plaza, voices, like hidden trickles, began to murmur at his arrival.

“Moli Hai has shirked the challenge. This… *helper*, even if powerful, will struggle to secure victory for the Dragon Prince.”

“He boasts with a braggart’s tongue, yet cowers from the challenge of the Demon General, Shi Xiao. A pathetic display, indeed!”

“As an outsider, he presumes to flaunt himself within the hallowed grounds of the Demon Realm. Let him not forget his place, lest he meet an untimely demise. He yet fails to grasp the perilous nature of his situation!”

From the northernmost tier, Lord Xuan, the Crimson Warlord, emitted a soft, disapproving grunt. Seated beside him was a man of middle years, encased in azure armor, unremarkable in appearance yet radiating an undeniable aura of authority.

The armored man turned to Lord Xuan, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Lord Xuan, you know this…champion?”

Lord Xuan’s face darkened. “I do not.” He paused, then continued, his voice laced with a hint of grudging respect. “Yet I wager he will claim a place amongst the top three, perhaps even seize the ultimate victory.”

The armored man raised an eyebrow, his gaze returning to Wang Lin. “His cultivation, while formidable, barely touches the peak of the Nascent Soul stage. To claim the highest honor… that seems a lofty ambition.”

Lord Xuan scoffed. “Lord Huang, shall we make a wager? If he fails to reach the summit, I shall forfeit my Heavenly Sign Banner to you. But if he triumphs, you shall gift me your Mystic Elixir!”

Lord Huang chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “Very well. I shall observe this ‘champion’ closely. I am eager to discern the extraordinary quality that inspires such confidence in Lord Xuan!”

Within his heart, Lord Xuan smirked. *If this wanderer inflicts upon you the same debilitating injury, you will understand perfectly.*

At that moment, a figure erupted from the ranks of the Demon Generals. Clad in earth-toned armor, he moved with impossible speed, appearing before Wang Lin, a hundred paces distant, as if conjured from thin air.

“I thank my esteemed comrades for their generosity! None dared challenge me for the right to… *test* this interloper!” His booming laugh echoed across the plaza, laced with self-assurance.

“Aodi the Devious Demon! As I suspected, he craved this opportunity!”

“His strength amongst the Demon Generals is… middling. But his cunning is unmatched, and his thirst for advantage insatiable. Though his tactics are often deemed distasteful, today, he has identified a prize worth seizing!”

“By defeating this *champion*, he effectively defeats Moli Hai! And with the Dragon Prince unable to fight, a single victory here secures his passage to the next round. No wonder Aodi speaks of gratitude to his comrades!”

Aodi bowed theatrically to the surrounding Demon Generals, then fixed his gaze upon Wang Lin. “Yield now, mortal, and preserve your life. For once my powers are unleashed, even if you match my strength, remember… I have an *ally*!”

Many among the Demon Generals erupted in excited whispers. Yet among their ranks, a few remained unperturbed. One of these was Mo Fei, who stood silently, casting a cold, appraising glance at Wang Lin, his expression inscrutable.

Wang Lin lowered his gaze from the heavens and met Aodi’s challenge with a slight shake of his head.

“You… are no match for me.”

Aodi froze, then erupted in a torrent of raucous laughter. He took a single, decisive step forward. “Such arrogance! I shall soon discover if your bravado has any foundation!”

He spoke, and in that same instant, vanished from sight, becoming a phantom swallowed by the earth.

But as Aodi disappeared, Wang Lin’s face remained impassive, untouched by surprise. He raised his right foot and brought it down with crushing force!

The plaza shuddered.

Waves of raw power emanated from Wang Lin’s point of impact, sweeping across the Obsidian Plaza. A thousand blades of pure spiritual energy erupted from the fractured earth, piercing the air like vengeful spirits.

In that instant, it appeared as though Wang Lin stood upon the brink of a volcanic abyss. His single step had rent the earth, unleashing rivers of molten fire that solidified into shimmering blades of light, thrusting towards the heavens.

Before Wang Lin, barely five paces distant, Aodi was wrenched from the depths, suspended in mid-air, his face a mask of disbelief. His Earth-Treading Technique, fueled by demonic essence and empowered by his life-bound beast, should have rendered him untouchable. Even if his foe had collapsed the earth, it would have been difficult to dislodge him. And he had planned to exploit any weakness in his opponent’s defenses by striking from below.

But more importantly, the Celestial Demon Sect’s Plaza was protected by countless enchantments. To shatter the ground here required power far beyond that needed in the outside world! Even he had proceeded with utmost caution, carefully plotting the best route through the earth while observing Shi Xiao’s earlier battle.

But now, such considerations were meaningless. As he hung in the air, Wang Lin’s gaze, sharp as a celestial blade, cut through the dust-laden air, piercing Aodi’s soul. A primal fear gripped him, a premonition of impending doom.

He recoiled instinctively, his right hand flying to his forehead. But in that same instant, Wang Lin took a single, impossibly swift step, closing the distance between them. His ancient hand, wreathed in flickering gray symbols, clamped onto Aodi’s wrist, stopping him from completing his self-inflicted blow.

Aodi’s eyes widened in horror. The grip was like a searing iron vise, unyielding to his desperate attempts to break free! With a roar of desperation, he bit down on his tongue and spat a mouthful of blood towards Wang Lin.

The moment the blood left his lips, it exploded in a cloud of demonic energy, coalescing into a spectral Dragon Turtle!

With a guttural roar, the beast lunged at Wang Lin.

Wang Lin’s face remained serene. Even before the bloody projectile reached his face, it slammed against countless layers of unseen, life-infused sigils. Each layer diminished its power, until, after being shattered by the eight hundredth sigil, it vanished without a trace. At the same time, Wang Lin grasped Aodi’s wrist and sent him flying. His own celestial energy poured into the Demon General’s body, a relentless tide tearing apart every tendon and vein in its path.
“Hold, I say!” The command ripped through the air. The golden-armored warden of the Demon General’s Combat, his vigil broken, snapped open his eyes, a glacial gleam hardening their depths.

Wang Lin, his gaze unwavering, pressed his advantage. Instead of halting, he channeled another surge of celestial power, pulverizing the already shattered remnants of Aodi’s meridians. Releasing his grip, he sent Aodi spiraling through the air, a ragdoll adrift in a crimson sea. The sickening sounds of rupture echoed from within as his body disintegrated from the inside, blood blooming like macabre flowers. Pain, raw and all-consuming, was his sole companion. His internal defenses desperately clawed against the invading celestial energy, a struggle that reduced him to a living hell, writhing in agony.

Xuan Hun sucked in a sharp breath, a chilling memory surfacing. He recalled his own battle with Wang Lin, and the sight of Aodi was like gazing into a fractured mirror, reflecting his past torment.

“Impudence!” The golden-armored warrior’s right hand shot forth, plucking strands of sunlight from the celestial orb above. With impossible speed, the radiant energy coalesced into a golden spear, as if he had captured the very sun itself. He hurled it with furious might, the weapon screaming towards Wang Lin.

Ignoring the sun-spear hurtling toward him, Wang Lin blurred into motion, a fleeting phantom heading straight for the airborne Aodi. He seized the fallen demon general’s right hand once more and unleashed a bone-jarring tremor.

Aodi felt as though he had been caught in the maw of a raging leviathan. An immense force surged from his hand, tearing through his veins, and detonating within his core in a symphony of splintering sounds.

His bones shattered, severing themselves from their fleshy moorings. Every inch of his being screamed with a pain far exceeding the meridian-shattering agony he had already endured.

Wang Lin released his hold, and Aodi crashed to the earth in a cloud of dust, his life hanging by a thread, clinging stubbornly to existence. With this grisly task complete, Wang Lin spun around, right hand forming a mystic sign. Emblems of vital life force materialized, coalescing into a vibrant glyph just as the golden spear arrived.

The spear’s power was breathtaking, reminiscent of the very creation of the world. The instant it was unleashed, Wang Lin felt himself locked in its sights. As it bore down upon him, his eyes flashed with resolute calculation, a flicker of the Ancient Starry Sky’s restrictive magic swirling within. His right hand slammed against the approaching spear.

The weapon vibrated violently upon impact, emitting a resonating hum that echoed across the battlefield. Wang Lin’s hand flashed again, striking the spear at a different point, deflecting its course ever so slightly. In that instant, he flickered to the side, and the searing golden light sliced past him.

Retracting his hand, Wang Lin fixed a cold stare upon the golden-armored warrior. “What is the meaning of this, Warden? Do you intend to break the established rules?” His face was composed, yet a deep unease simmered within. The spear’s power had been terrifying.

The golden-armored warden returned the gaze, his expression unreadable. He clenched his right hand, and the golden spear, now passing harmlessly by Wang Lin, shuddered, dissipating into a shower of golden light.

Silence descended upon the arena. Every eye on the stands was wide with disbelief, witnessing this astonishing turn of events. The gathered spectators struggled to comprehend how a Demon General, the pride of the Demon Spirit Land, could be so thoroughly devastated by an outsider. Though Aodi lived, his meridians were shattered, his bones splintered – a shell of his former self.

Only the most precious of Heavenly Demon Pills, bestowed by the Demon Emperor himself, could restore such ruin. But even a Demon General like Aodi would never obtain one. The Demon Emperor’s favor was reserved for only the most dedicated individuals.

Had Aodi been defeated after a brutal, prolonged battle, the crowd might have accepted it. But this…this lightning-fast obliteration…

It shattered the very foundations of their pride as natives of the Demon Spirit Land. Seldom, if ever, had a Demon General been so utterly broken in these duels, and never at the hands of an outsider. Never before!

Surprised and rage-filled eyes focused on Wang Lin.

Murmurs swept through the ranks of the Demon Generals, their gazes now laced with newfound respect, fear, and resentment.

“This one is strong,” a man exuding a chilling aura, the Demon General Yu Sen, master of the Dao of Slaughter, muttered, his eyes locking onto Wang Lin with a hint of hungry battle lust.

“Intriguing. So Mo Lihai had such a trump card hidden away…I wonder how many of my Seven Demon Arts he could withstand?” A dark-haired Demon General toyed with a ring on his finger, a thin smile playing on his lips.

“Vicious!” Demon General Xuan Hun gripped the arms of his chair, his eyes fixed on Wang Lin with a mixture of shock and begrudging respect.

On the northern and southern platforms, the eight Demon Commanders regarded Wang Lin with narrowed eyes. One of them, clad in azure robes and possessing an air of scholarly refinement, observed Wang Lin with a glimmer of approval.

“Clean, decisive…He wastes no motion. This one is impressive.” Chen Tao, standing beside Shi Xiao, stared at Wang Lin in silent astonishment. His former junior disciple was no longer the man he once knew. He was stronger, almost terrifyingly so.

Aodi’s ruin was a secondary concern. What truly captured Chen Tao’s attention was Wang Lin’s defiance of the golden spear. Chen Tao knew its true nature, having once heard Tian Yunzi speak of a wondrous technique that drew upon the very essence of the sun, condensing its power into a tangible force.

Though the golden-armored warden’s mastery fell short of the liquid light that Tian Yunzi so admired, the spear was nonetheless a manifestation of pure solar energy.

Chen Tao knew he could deflect such a weapon. But to meet it with such calculating precision, to divert it entirely with two strikes… that was not merely a feat of power, but a testament to Wang Lin’s acute calculation.

“If I were to face him now, vying once more for a place among the Seven Disciples of Tian Yun… even if I prevailed, I would be grievously wounded, forced into a century of seclusion, perhaps even suffering a drop in cultivation.” Chen Tao took a deep breath, his gaze towards Wang Lin now clouded with conflicted emotions.

Of all those present, Mo Lihai was the happiest. He could barely contain his jubilant grin, inwardly congratulating himself once again on his wise decision.
A cold fire burned within me. This man and I were bound, not destined to be enemies. The stronger Wang Lin became, the greater my chance of victory! But that golden-clad steward, using his authority against a lesser, was a slight I would not forget. If ever I rose to the rank of Marshal, I would make him pay dearly!” A snort of disdain ripped through the plaza, echoing like thunderclaps across the sky, drawing the gazes of many back to its source.

The gold-armored warrior pointed a gauntleted finger at Wang Lin and roared, “Know this! He who slays a Demon General *dies!*”

“The Demon General Ao Di lives this time, so you are spared. But those who aided him, step forth!” Silence hung heavy in the air. Finally, a timid voice spoke from the crowd, “I…”

Far from the plaza, nestled deep within the Sword Pavilion, the Emperor Sword shuddered. Lodged hilt-deep in the earth, its blade sang with a frustrated, resonant hum. Even within the heart of the capital, it had felt Wang Lin’s power unleash, a spark that ignited its ancient fury.

Consumed with rage, the blade yearned to tear itself free and rend this impudent mortal as it had countless prison wards before. But just as it began to levitate, doubt crept in.

The Emperor’s words echoed in its mind: remain silent for these coming days, abstain from meddling in the Demon General’s war, lest you face the Dragon’s Maw!

A mournful chime escaped the Emperor Sword’s ethereal form. Its tip quivered, aiming a vengeful point toward the distant gates of the Heavenly Demon Sect. After a long struggle with its self-restraint, the mighty blade shifted, coalescing into the form of a striking maiden of perhaps twenty years. Her skin shimmered with the same crystalline essence of the steel she embodied. She stamped her feet petulantly, each impact releasing a flash of sharp, unseen energy.

The Sword Pavilion shook and groaned with each outburst, portions of it crumbling as her fury found release. But the edge of her frustration remained. Then, a mischievous glint sparked in her eyes.

“The Emperor forbade the Sword to venture forth… but *I* am merely its spirit. A quick trip to observe the vile morsel will surely be overlooked. I shall simply imprint his essence upon my memory. This should pose no conflict!” The young woman giggled, tossing her hair. In a flash, she dissolved into a whisper of light and drifted from the Pavilion, heading towards the Heavenly Demon Sect.

As she neared the outer limits of the vast plaza, she vanished, becoming no more than a ripple in the air. She floated gently to the rooftop of the grand pavilion overlooking the square and settled amongst the clay tiles, peering down.

The moment her presence manifested upon the roof, eight pairs of eyes, seemingly by chance, flickered in her direction.

She recoiled slightly, sticking out her tongue in playful guilt. These were the gazes of the Eight Demon Marshals, stationed at the north and south ends of the plaza! The eyes, however, flickered away, some figures sporting the beginnings of amused smirks.

Wang Lin, amidst witnessing the final rounds of the Demon General trials, felt a tremor within his soul. He was connected to Xu Liguo, the devilish spirit he held within his Immortal Sword. Now, instead of remaining dormant, Xu Liguo began to clamor within Wang Lin’s consciousness, his voice frantic.

“Master! Let me out! My springtime has finally arrived! You *must* let me out!”

“What is it?” Wang Lin demanded, mentally.

“Master, do you remember that Emperor Sword we’ve sensed? I paid it no mind… until today! Now that I can see its spirit, she is a vision! A delectable, winsome damsel…”

Wang Lin shuddered, cutting off Xu Liguo’s rant. “Here? In this place?”

“Yes, upon the pavilion above! Alas, mortal eyes cannot perceive her as I can!” Xu Liguo replied smugly. He then shuddered, remembering Wang Lin’s temperament, and hastened to add, “This perception has naught to do with my cultivation, my lord. I learned the art of Sword Spirit detection from the Little Black Blade. He confided that high-tier spirits such as ourselves can sense kin, even from within storage artifacts… as long as the other has left their own steel vessel.”

“Hurry, Master, she is about to turn her gaze this way! Fear not; others will not detect my presence! The Little Black Blade is adept at shrouding Sword Spirit auras!” Xu Liguo insisted, sensing Wang Lin’s hesitation.

Wang Lin frowned. With a flick of his wrist, he opened a sliver of space within his storage bag. Xu Liguo immediately streamed forth, unnoticed, becoming an unseen wisp as he soared towards the pavilion.

“Heh heh, my fair maiden, Xu-gege is here for you! Sweet heavens, it has been ages since a morsel as fair as you came along! The last beauty was devoured by our bloodthirsty master!”

The Sword Spirit was in the process of scanning the crowd, and suddenly paused, as if bewildered, staring into the distance as Xu Liguo swarmed towards her. Her surprise was evident.

Seeing her confusion, Xu Liguo became even more emboldened. But as he reached her, the maiden’s eyes widened, and she lashed out with a slender leg, unleashing a blade of raw energy!

Xu Liguo chuckled. “No need to be shy, fellow spirit! Can’t we be friendly?” With a ripple, the energy passed through his incorporeal form… only for him to reform, and pounce once more.

The young woman glared, her search for “food” forgotten. With a swift movement, she took off, disappearing in the blink of an eye. Xu Liguo whooped and gave chase, the two spirits disappearing from the roof.

“Fear not, my sweet, let Xu-gege care for you! I will see you get whatever you want from now on! Though I may not seem like much, I have friends! My buddy, the Black—”

His words were cut short by a return volley of energy.

“Oh, a feisty one, are you? Worry not, Xu-gege loves a challenge! My Master once said, the more willful a girl, the more pleasing her figure!”

Another jet of energy lanced toward him, accompanied by an enraged yell, “And your Master is no better! Begone!”
“Hark! Darest thou insult my Master?” the voice boomed, laced with affected outrage. “Shadow, didst thou hear that insolence? Know this, my inky hound, it is not for mine own petty desires that I unleash thee, but for the noble purpose of correcting her warped perception of our revered liege! Seize her, I say! I shall have words with this misguided soul, and she *will* understand the truth!”

His pronouncements were answered only by a storm of bladed energy, a whirlwind of sharp-edged air that carried on its currents the leering, lascivious laughter of Xu Liguo.

Though both possessed the spirit of the blade, the maiden was, in truth, a far more skilled combatant. Yet Xu Liguo had the insidious aid of Shadow, his sable familiar. With its assistance, the battle achieved a precarious balance, a deadlock of steel and shadow where neither could gain the upper hand.

Indeed, Xu Liguo’s current state of frenzied exhilaration granted him unnatural strength, allowing him to surpass his usual limitations.

“Before that cursed star damned me to this existence, before I was nearly twisted into a fiend, I too, was a lord of the land, a terror to behold! Ah, those days of glorious abandon! It has been an age since I tasted such sweet freedom. But today… today, that feeling returns! Flee not, fair maiden!”

But abruptly, Xu Liguo’s lewd amusement vanished, replaced by a roar of impotent fury that echoed from afar. “Shameless wretch! Thou darst flee back into thy blade? Have at thee! Xu Liguo *will* return!”

Within the confines of the Sword Pavilion, the serpentine Emperor Sword writhed in impotent rage, its steel body lashing out at the inanimate objects surrounding it. It strained to break free, to rend the honorless rogue who had dared to mock it, but in the end, it restrained itself.

“That despicable sword spirit! He is far more loathsome than even that… *food*!”

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