“Twice you have vexed Wang,” the voice echoed, smooth as polished stone, betraying no hint of emotion. “And now Wang himself graces your doorstep. Do you still feign ignorance of my identity?”

Within the fortress, the gnarled old sorcerer, his face a mask of shadows, scowled. His practiced eye, honed by ages of arcane study, pierced the veil of Wang Lin’s presence. This was no mere adept; he was a cultivator who had ascended to the nascent stage of Primordial Soul, a being who had grasped a fundamental truth of existence and woven it into his very being.

“He… he must be Wang Lin,” whispered Sun Ruonan, sister to the slain Sun Yunshan, from amidst the three women who stood before the sorcerer.

“Wang Lin!” The sorcerer recoiled as if struck. He had never anticipated that the youth he had once casually marked for enslavement as a celestial guardian would attain such formidable power. Had he known then what he knew now, his avarice would have been tempered with a far more cautious restraint.

“Wang Lin, esteemed daoist,” the old sorcerer began, his voice a reluctant concession. “Past grievances, the consequences of my own folly, I admit. The lives of my two celestial guardians, I deem sufficient recompense. Depart now, and let us agree to an enduring peace.”

The three women exchanged stunned glances. They knew their master’s heart, a labyrinth of pride and petty malice. To be confronted in his own stronghold and yet offer no resistance, but instead proffer peace – it was an anomaly that defied understanding.

Sun Ruonan, whose memory of Wang Lin was but a fleeting impression, had imagined him as a mere annoyance, incapable of challenging her master, an immortal who once quelled four Late-Nascent Soul cultivators with a single spell. Furthermore, there were the eight celestial guardians. Surely, united, they could overcome this Wang Lin.

Ignoring the proffered peace, Wang Lin strode forward, his voice a low rumble. “Two celestial guardians? Mere trinkets, cast aside and broken. They cannot atone for your trespass.”

The sorcerer’s face contorted, his eyes blazing with emerald fire. “Arrogant fool! Do you, in your fledgling state of Primordial Soul, believe yourself beyond my reach? Eight Guardians, heed my call! Summon the Celestial Emperor and extinguish this pest!”

From the fortress depths, eight figures surged forth, a whirlwind of motion and power. Each exuded the imposing aura of a Primordial Soul cultivator. Without a word, they formed a circle and lowered themselves into a cross-legged position. With intricate gestures, they began weaving a complex formation.

An ethereal power, laced with the essence of immortality, coalesced above them, taking shape in a spectral form. The image solidified, revealing a warrior clad in celestial robes, his long hair flowing in an invisible wind, a jade-green sword held firm in his grasp.

The air crackled with divine energy. Those who lingered nearby were thrown to their knees, chanting reverent prayers. “We, mortals of the lower realm, offer our humble greetings to the Celestial Emperor!”

The old sorcerer’s triumphant laughter echoed through the fortress. “Wang Lin, let me reveal a truth! I am a scion of the celestial realm, cast adrift upon this world by the Great Sundering. My arts are steeped in true celestial power, beyond your comprehension. Flee now, while the choice is yours. Provoke me further, and your doom is assured!”

Wang Lin gazed upon the spectral warrior, a flicker of something akin to curiosity in his eyes. Raising his right hand, he plunged the world into twilight. From the heavens descended a river of spectral, yellow miasma, the River of Souls. Coiling around Wang Lin like a protective serpent, it surged forth, engulfing the spectral warrior.

The eight guardians strained against the tide, their life force spiraling outward, surging through their hands, and coursing into the illusory form of the celestial emperor.

The specter seemed to awaken, its eyes locking onto Wang Lin, its grip tightening on the jade-green sword. With a silent thrust, the spectral blade was pointed at the intruder!

Wang Lin’s pupils constricted. The action did not unleash a visible blow, but he felt an undeniable urge to retreat, lest the unseen tip of the spectral sword unravel his very soul.

It was a sensation he had known before, the crushing weight of heavenly judgment. The memory of the tribulations Wang Lin had overcome solidified his resolve. He fought against the instinct to flee, and instead, took another step forward.

Even as his foot hovered in the air, the eight celestial guardians cried out in unison, coughing out crimson blood tinged with what remained of their immortal essence.

The life-blood of the Eight was instantly absorbed into the emperor’s form, the spectral figure now taking on a terrifying gleam of sentience!

As Wang Lin planted his foot on the ground, the emperor roared a silent word to crush the intruder!

The word was soundless, but in Wang Lin’s ears, the very fabric of reality tore asunder. He breathed a slow, shuddering breath, and closed his eyes.

His foot crashed upon the earth.

The eight guardians, their purpose served, were now empty husks.

And with their final offering, the river of souls descended upon the emperor in its spectral form, shattering and dispersing him.

“A potent illusion,” Wang Lin murmured, the frost of battle etched upon his face. With a final stride, he merged into the yellow miasma. The River of Souls became his vessel, surging through the ranks of the seated guardians in one devastating sweep.

As Wang Lin passed, the bodies of the eight guardians crumbled, falling to the floor to feed the River of Souls, denied even the peace of reincarnation.
Eight unremarkable shards of jade, dull and lifeless, flew forth. Wang Lin, with a swift hand, caught them, tossing them carelessly into his pouch. From within the castle, a furious roar echoed, and a surge of pure celestial energy erupted, coalescing into a tightly compressed blast of immortal air, aimed directly at Wang Lin!

The River of Yellow Springs around Wang Lin surged skyward, transforming into a colossal pillar, a bridge between realms, a bulwark against the heavens. Enshrouded within, Wang Lin watched as the celestial air slammed into the Yellow Springs, disappearing without a trace.

“Open!” Wang Lin uttered, his voice resonating within the churning vortex of spectral water.

The Yellow Springs exploded outward, dissolving the white castle in its path. The earth trembled and groaned as the ancient structure crumbled.

A diminutive, wizened figure shot forth from the wreckage, hovering in the air. Behind him emerged three women, his fellow acolytes, their faces cold and calculating.

The old man, with his shifty eyes and rat-like features, looked more like a cutpurse than a cultivator. His face contorted in rage, he bellowed at Wang Lin, “Wang Lin! I have endured your presence, reluctant to make you my enemy. But your arrogance knows no bounds! I recognize you, an outsider, burdened with the trials of mortality. Depart now, and I shall forgive your transgressions. But if you persist, do not blame me for your demise!”

A flicker of icy resolve flashed in Wang Lin’s eyes. He spoke not a word, but extended his right hand. A single finger of obliteration, imbued with the power of nothingness, shot forth towards the old man.

The old man’s face paled, his eyes betraying a flicker of fear. Drawing a deep breath, he expelled a dense cloud of celestial energy, a swirling mist that enveloped the finger of annihilation. A cacophony of hissing and crackling erupted as the two forces clashed, mutually extinguishing each other.

“Wang Lin, you leave me no choice!” the old man snarled, his face ashen. He slapped his pouch, and a jade stone, the size of a clenched fist and emerald green in color, floated forth. The old man’s hands moved in arcane gestures, and he pointed towards the stone, chanting, “Celestial Seed!”

The green stone pulsed with an unnatural energy, writhing and contorting before transforming into countless slender, verdant threads. A chorus of sharp, grating noises filled the air as they unfurled like a swarm of venomous serpents.

The sight of the green threads sent shivers down the spines of those watching. Fear gripped their hearts, their eyes widening in horror.

Wang Lin’s gaze narrowed, his eyes burning with an intense light. He spoke slowly, his voice barely a whisper, “Celestial Beast Fodder!”

His words were lost on some, but the old man’s face underwent another transformation. “You recognize it?!” he cried, his voice cracking.

Earlier, within Sun Yunshan’s domain, when Wang Lin had seen these very threads, a sense of recognition had stirred within him. Now, the memory coalesced. These were the same celestial seed he had encountered long ago in the Immortal Realm, with the disciples of the Great Sword Sect, within the ancient cave! He had not revealed this knowledge to Sun Yunshan.

The old man, regardless of Wang Lin’s knowledge, knew he had reached a desperate point. These celestial seeds he had obtained but never fully controlled. He had gathered them all in this place. He was now ready to die and go to war with Wang Lin. He did this now because he was desperate to escape what he was doing here.

“Devour him!” the old man roared, his fingers snapping. He commanded the threads born from the jade stone.

Hundreds of the green threads struck out to devour Wang Lin.

This scene was familiar to Wang Lin. He had faced a horde of celestial fodder a hundredfold greater than this during his time in the Immortal Realm. Thus, he was hardly frightened.

He drew a tattered soul banner from his pouch. Before coming to this place, he had felt suspicion, and thus he had prepared. Now, with the banner in hand, he unleashed a wave of power. The beast he had discovered within the Refining Soul Sect materialized with a thunderous roar, its fiery eyes fixated upon the oncoming mass of fodder.

From the Kirin’s eyes burst forth an unholy light, a ravenous hunger like a demon who had not eaten for ten thousand years. It had finally found its prey!