“To surrender an arm to you now? Impossible!” The gold-armored warrior inhaled deeply, his gaze unwavering upon Wang Lin. He shook his head, the metal of his helm glinting in the harsh light. “Strike the drum fifteen times, and by the ancient pact of the Sky Demons, I, Jin, shall sever my own limb and offer it to you!”

Jin spat the words, then addressed Wang Lin with open disdain. “But if you fail, then silence yourself! Another peep from your lips, and my liege will be sorely tempted to silence you permanently!”

Wang Lin’s eyes, cold as the mountain peaks, lingered on the gold-armored warrior. He was a force to be reckoned with. The sting of the Solar Lance, which Wang Lin had endured, revealed a cultivation at the very apex of Spirit Severing, a mere hair’s breadth from the Ascendant stage.

That one step, that single boundary, held a vast chasm for Wang Lin to overcome!

But that was not all. The warrior’s cultivation was woven with a vicious, predatory strength. The Solar Lance had burned with an arcane energy that whispered of sunfire. In Wang Lin’s estimation, the man’s spells, combined with his raw power, placed him amongst the most formidable of his peers. Even Ascendant cultivators of lesser caliber would struggle against him.

Only those who had earned the title of Ascendant Paragon might pose a true threat, for this warrior’s defenses ran deep.

And yet, the hour of battle held sway. By day, in the full glory of the noontide sun, Wang Lin would surely fall. But under the cloak of midnight, when the stars held dominion and the air crackled with negative energies, the odds would shift in Wang Lin’s favor.

Withdrawing his gaze from the warrior, Wang Lin turned his attention to the demon drum. Eight times he had struck it, and with each echoing boom, the rebound had shattered layers of his Life Imprints. Nearly three thousand had fallen.

“Even if Mo Lihai is incapacitated, eight strikes is enough to secure a place amongst the top ten. To push further would be reckless,” he mused. “Injury at this stage would outweigh any potential gain…”

“And yet,” his thoughts continued, “the drum’s song stirs the very soul. Only once before have I felt such resonance, by the river when listening to the elven melody. Could it be that striking this drum aligns with the Dao?”

He pondered, “Not the Dao, but the drum’s reverberations carry within them the essence of defiance! My strike is a force moving with the tide, but the recoil… that is resistance!”

“This push and pull, this yielding and resisting… it holds the key to cosmic change!” A strange light flickered in Wang Lin’s eyes. Without hesitation, he drew a deep breath and unleashed a fist upon the demon drum.

“Dong!” The ninth strike reverberated.

The recoil, a raging torrent, surged through Wang Lin’s arm and into his very core. It was the power of defiance itself. His Life Imprints shattered with alarming speed, a hundred, eight hundred, a thousand, two thousand, and on, until three thousand six hundred were obliterated. The rebound’s intensity lessened, yet it still surged onward.

Three thousand seven hundred Life Imprints, a treasure hard-won, crumbled utterly.

With the last imprint shattered, the recoil poured into Wang Lin, tearing through his meridians. His body was tossed and buffeted, his hair lashing like a flag in a storm, his garments whipped backward.

He staggered, his feet finding no purchase. One step, two steps, three, four… nineteen steps he retreated before finally anchoring himself with a desperate thrust of his right leg.

His face, flushed with an unnatural color, slowly returned to its usual pallor.

The gold-armored warrior exhaled in relief. A cruel smile played on his lips as he thought, *’He cannot strike it fifteen times. Nine nearly broke him. The tenth strike will surely be his undoing!’*

Silence reigned. No one dared to break the spell. Nine strikes! He had surpassed Mo Fei, the First Demon General. Wang Lin’s name, from that moment forward, would be spoken with reverence throughout the Demon Lands.

For the Demon Emperor cared not for birthright, only for power! Had not the Celestial General been a mere mortal cultivator in his time?

All eyes remained fixed on Wang Lin, unblinking.

Mo Lihai stared, dumbfounded. Wang Lin had changed so much in so little time.

*”Nine… I cannot hope to match that,”* he lamented.

Wang Lin stood in the center of the vast plaza, impervious to the countless gazes. His brow furrowed in concentration.

The demon drum’s recoil, though diminished by the shattering of his Life Imprints, was ultimately manageable. A surge of his Celestial power restored him.

But in that fleeting instant of impact, Wang Lin had sensed something within the recoil, a singular essence, a spirit of indomitable will, a defiance against fate itself!

The drum recoiled not from simple malice, but from a refusal to yield. It was a fierce rejection of all who dared to threaten it, an oath to stand against a falling sky, to pierce the very heavens themselves.

*This*, was the will within the drum!

“Defiance…” Wang Lin murmured.

*”I was wrong. By using Life Imprints to cushion against the impact, I was inadvertently resisting the defiance within myself!”* Understanding dawned. He gazed at the demon drum with new eyes.

Upon the viewing platform, the Celestial General stirred, his eyes once again drawn to Wang Lin.

After a long moment, Wang Lin took a step forward, then another, and another, until nineteen steps had brought him to the drum. He did not strike it, but instead, gently laid his hand upon the cool, rough surface.

A faint whisper of the drum’s unyielding spirit flowed through his hand and into his very soul.

He slowly closed his eyes, and for that brief moment, he became one with the drum. His presence faded, his aura all but vanished.
The golden-armored warrior furrowed his brow, then a cold sneer twisted his lips. “A charade!” he declared. “Dost thou believe that merely touching this demon-drum allows one to strike it fifteen times? If so, the lowliest serf, tasked with its daily cleaning, could surely summon a hundred beats! Absurdity!”

He was not alone in this sentiment. Even the Demon Lords upon the north and south terraces wore expressions of doubt.

“What game does this whelp play?” wondered the Xuan Lord, bewildered.

“Perhaps the mortal mage can commune with the drum itself!” chuckled one of the assembled Lords.

“Nay, not communion, but *understanding*,” countered the only female among them, the Yu Lord. “I, too, felt its inner resonance when first I struck its skin. Have ye forgotten so quickly?”

Her words struck the other Demon Lords with the weight of realization.

Upon the elevated galleries, the noble officials and courtly kin could no longer maintain their decorum. Murmurs rippled through the ranks.

Amongst the Demon Generals, Mo Fei’s eyes gleamed with an unnerving light. He watched Wang Lin intently, whispering, “Thou… thou feelest it as well?”

In that instant when Wang Lin closed his eyes, that unyielding spirit, that profound resistance, surged forth.

It coalesced within him. Wang Lin’s very soul became steeped in it, until he was utterly, inextricably bound to the demon-drum.

“The drum’s rebellious song… to resist is to be broken. To embrace is to understand. And to understand is to let the echoes cleanse thee!” Wang Lin’s eyes snapped open, clear and bright. He raised his right hand, then gently lowered it upon the instrument.

*Dong!* The tenth reverberation thundered across the Thousand-Words Square.

A shock of unimaginable force erupted from within the drum and slammed into Wang Lin’s body. In that moment, he ruthlessly severed the Mark of Life, allowing the full brunt of the energy to surge into him.

The chaotic power raged through his veins. Beads of black, acrid sweat erupted from his pores. As the impurities were purged, a sensation of cleansing, reminiscent of the Foundation Building stage, washed over him.

But the serenity was fleeting. The energies within him turned violent, careening through his form, leaving Wang Lin pale and breathless.

“Cleansing! The boy uses the drum’s song to cleanse himself!” exclaimed a Demon Lord, aghast.

A ripple of astonished gasps ran through the ranks of the Demon Generals. Shi Xiao’s gaze turned murderous, yet he hesitated, raising and lowering his arm again and again.

The golden warrior’s eyes flashed with predatory glee. *Cleansing, is it? I have heard the Emperor speak of this. But without the strength to control it, only grievous injury awaits him!*

The Tian Lord, who had been half-asleep, opened his eyes slightly, only to close them again in disappointment.

*This one… is no longer worthy of my attention,* he thought, sighing inwardly.

Wang Lin’s face was ashen, but his eyes blazed with inner fire.

*This demon-drum’s defiance… it holds a will of its own. To surrender wholly would be to embrace the *Rebellion*, but not *my* Rebellion!*

*I am injured, not from lack of power, but from divergence! All who strive for the immortal path possess their own Rebellion! Though the word is one, its meaning blossoms into countless paths! I, Wang Lin, have walked this road for seven centuries. I have forged *my own* path!* His eyes shone with a fierce, unwavering light. It faded slowly, replaced by a deep-seated melancholy, a profound solitude.

He lifted his right hand, and with the lightest of touches, laid it upon the demon-drum.

*Dong!* The eleventh strike echoed through the square.

In that instant, a profound grief, carried upon the sound, washed over the entire square, spreading far beyond the walls of Heavenly Demon City!

The sorrow within the drum’s song, like the music of a lonely harpist upon a drifting boat, pierced the heart.

Sorrow made manifest. Spirit infused with longing. Longing transformed into the strike. The strike become the song.

“Sorrow in the song… impossible! This cannot be! How could any mortal achieve this? It is utter madness!” The golden-armored warrior’s face contorted in disbelief. He stumbled back, staring at Wang Lin in stupefied horror.

The Tian Lord opened his eyes fully for the first time, and rose to his feet. In all the square, only Wang Lin had moved him to such an extent!