A monstrous draft billowed forth from the chasm’s maw, a ravenous abyss that sought to devour Wang Lin whole. The gale clung to him, plastering his robes against his back and whipping his hair towards the fissure like a banner of surrender. Beneath his skin, a restless tide of flesh and blood pulsed erratically, drawn and distorted by the invisible force.

For seven days, Wang Lin had endured this torment, acclimating to the chasm’s hunger. On this day, his eyes snapped open, and he rose, taking a fateful step towards the edge.

He now stood a mere ten feet from the precipice. An immense pull seized him, his body tilting precariously as if held by unseen hands determined to drag him into the void.

Grim-faced, Wang Lin sank to the ground, steeling his resolve against the tempestuous forces. His very lifeblood threatened to congeal within him, his flesh held together only by the ethereal energy that coursed through his veins.

“Not enough,” he muttered, and with a reckless surge, he released the flow of his inner power, surrendering to the abyss’s embrace. As he hurtled towards the brink, his hand flashed across his storage pouch. Seven celestial swords burst forth in a dazzling arc, plunging into the stone ground around him like fiery arrows.

Crisscrossing tendrils of energy surged between the blades, imprisoning Wang Lin in a cage of crackling light. The incandescent barrier grew, forming an ethereal cocoon around him, holding him suspended between worlds.

Wang Lin sat motionless within the protective field. He had reached the very edge of the chasm, where a biting, spectral chill permeated the air, and the shrieking winds echoed through the cavernous space.

Even his very soul was not immune to the chasm’s voracity, drawn towards the edge of his mortal vessel. Yet, the ancient barrier that had plagued him for so long held firm, preventing his essence from escaping.

Not only his soul, but the very essence of his being was drawn to the chasm, the murderous intent that dwelled within his heart threatening to leach out. The killing intent manifested as thin crimson threads beneath his skin, each one a testament to his bloody past.

After an age of struggle, Wang Lin’s eyes glinted with renewed determination. He edged forward another three feet, the seven swords following his lead in a silent dance of defiance. The pull intensified, and a new crimson line appeared beneath his skin.

The terrible force weighed heavily upon the seven blades, causing them to resonate with a mournful dirge. Their spectral spirits roared, their forms coalescing and shifting as they fought to hold their ground. Bolts of lightning pulsed from the swords, solidifying their connection to one another and to the earth, as if attempting to fuse with the very stone.

As Wang Lin pressed onward, the crimson threads beneath his skin multiplied, until he seemed to be draped in a scarlet shroud. Millions of these strands swirled beneath the surface, each one a marker of death dealt.

The countless threads writhed and pulsed, but Wang Lin’s mind remained a fortress of serenity. He drew a deep breath, knowing that even here, at the edge of the abyss, he could only coax the murderous intent to the surface, not purge it completely.

He gazed into the black expanse beyond the chasm, his eyes briefly lit by a flash of arcane energy. He spied it twenty yards below, the slanted stone dais upon which rested an ancient, forgotten teleportation array.

Calculating the distance, Wang Lin gathered his strength and leaped from the chasm’s edge, his form a blur as he hurtled towards the stone platform. The seven swords followed him, their blades a silver halo in the darkness. As he cleared the chasm, a wave of overwhelming force erupted from the depths.

Here, the chasm’s hunger was magnified a hundredfold. Instantly, crimson strands were ripped from his flesh, twisting and writhing as they were torn free, only to dissolve into a crimson mist and vanish.

The seven swords spun around him, their dizzying rotation creating a vortex of power. From the heart of the vortex, a surge of energy emanated, pushing against the unrelenting pull of the abyss.

Wang Lin strode towards the stone dais, his focus absolute. He dared not falter, lest he be dragged into the depths. The chilling air grew thicker, and the pull intensified, as if giant hands reached up from below, seeking to snatch him away. The howling wind seemed to carry the vengeful roars of ancient, malevolent entities.

The swords reached their limit, yet their combined force could not entirely negate the pull of the chasm. Wang Lin and the vortex of steel were dragged downwards, towards the abyss.

In that desperate moment, Wang Lin’s eyes flashed with arcane power. From the void beneath him, a dark figure emerged, bound to Wang Lin as if by an unseen tether. With a swift, fluid motion, the figure whirled, uttering strange incantations and weaving eldritch signs with its hands.

The figure transformed into a swirling vortex of darkness, its power so immense that even the chasm’s pull faltered. The dark storm enveloped the sword array and carried Wang Lin towards the stone dais.

As his feet touched the stone, Wang Lin exhaled a long, shaky breath. The combined power of the sword array and the golem’s transformation could only hold the abyss at bay for a brief time.

He sank to the ground, disregarding the intricacies of the teleportation array. His only concern was to banish the writhing crimson threads from his body.

His eyes glinted once more, and he waved his hand. The vortex of darkness that was once the golem collapsed and was absorbed back into the shadowy figure that followed Wang Lin like a second skin.
Seven enchanted blades whirled around Wang Lin, a silver tempest now that the great hurricane had vanished. But with its passing came a new torment: a voracious, impossible pull, tearing at his very essence. He grit his teeth, veins throbbing like angry serpents on his brow.

The crimson lines etched upon his skin, remnants of some fell magic, writhed as if alive, struggling against the insatiable force. Yet, their resistance was futile. With a series of sharp cracks, they tore free from Wang Lin’s flesh, dissolving into puffs of bloody mist.

Around him, his body now sprouted what appeared as countless crimson barbs, each one a thread of malevolent energy being dragged out by its root. It was a ghastly spectacle, a violation of the very laws of nature.

As each thread was ripped away, the red mist thickened, only to be instantly devoured by the insatiable force. A never-ending cycle of pain and expulsion, a torment that seemed to stretch into eternity.

But slowly, ever so slowly, patches of his natural skin began to reappear beneath the crimson tide. Wang Lin inhaled deeply, his eyes snapping open, unleashing the ethereal phantom behind him. The phantom roared to life, transforming into a miniature hurricane, engulfing him in its protective embrace. With a resolute stride, Wang Lin lunged towards the waiting rift.

He stumbled through the fissure, collapsing into the blessed stillness on the other side. The exhaustion was profound, as if he had battled a grandmaster of the advanced stages of Domain Enlightenment for ten days and nights.

In the preceding days, he had fought on multiple fronts: wrestling against the monstrous pull, orchestrating the dance of the Seven Star Sword Formation, expelling the insidious crimson threads, and reinforcing his physical form against the constant threat of disintegration.

The strain was near unbearable. He knew that another misstep would lead to oblivion. A moment’s respite was necessary. To gather his strength, to center his qi, before venturing back into the abyss.

After a brief meditation, his eyes gleamed with renewed determination. Commanding the Seven Star Sword Formation, he stepped once more beyond the rift.

Months bled into each other, each day a Sisyphean task. Then, on a day marking the fourth year of his entrapment, Wang Lin sat cross-legged upon the great stone within the pit. From the skin of his right hand, a final crimson line pulsed, releasing a silent scream of defiance as it tore itself free, vanishing into the malevolent mist.

The last of the corruption had been purged. Weariness etched his face, but his eyes burned with cold fire.

“The Slaughter Immortal Art!”

The words were a vow, a promise of reckoning. For long moments, he brooded, the fire in his eyes slowly dying down, replaced by a chilling calculation. He lowered his gaze, his focus settling on the传送阵, a teleportation array beneath him. Dismissing it with a glance, he closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the ambient force of suction.

To master the pull, he understood, he must first become one with it. He must open his mind, offering no resistance, allowing the force to flow through him as if he were made of air.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Three years passed as Wang Lin sat motionless.

The Seven Star Sword Formation no longer spun, but stood as sentinels, piercing the earth around him. Wang Lin became one with the stone, the force of suction initially causing his body to twitch, but gradually, Wang Lin seemed to become nonexistent. The force of suction entered his body, passing straight through.

Another three years flowed by, unnoticed.

The pull flowed through Wang Lin’s form, leaving no trace, no obstruction. Even his clothes and hair remained still, undisturbed, no longer subject to its grasp.

Not only did his body remain still, so too did his mind, unruffled and serene. In those six years, with the force of suction flowing through every part of him, Wang Lin sunk into a strange, almost ethereal state.

He felt as if he had completely vanished, and because he was gone, the force of suction had no power over him.

However, his Yuan Soul was still there, something that the force of suction could never penetrate, and because of that, he always felt unfulfilled in that ethereal state.

He could make the suction force move away, could cause his body to merge with the suction force, but he could not make his Yuan Soul, could not make his body and mind, truly become one with the suction force.

However, Wang Lin was not in a rush, he calmly felt the suction force, slowly separating his mind, under its ethereal state.

Five more years passed in a flash and Wang Lin had been in this deep pit for fifteen years…He had even sat on that large stone for eleven years.

His mind could not yet be completely separated from its source, completely blending in with the suction force.

In the seventeenth year of Wang Lin’s confinement, he opened his eyes. A hint of vicissitude was revealed in them, gazing at the front calmly.

“To integrate the mind with the suction force…one must not generate even the slightest feeling of rejection. To truly comprehend and merge with the suction force, one must become a part of it…

If you are the suction force itself, you are naturally merged…”

Wang Lin muttered, he had already thought of this many years ago, but it was easy to say but hard to do. How can you become the suction force yourself and be part of it? He had no clue.

The howling sounds that had resonated in his ears for seventeen years had become ingrained in his senses. The howling sound was the sound of the suction force, Wang Lin deeply exhaled, and closed his eyes.

“Go down…” The woman’s voice echoed again in the Yuan Soul.

Wang Lin suddenly opened his eyes, and a lightning bolt exploded in them. He lowered his head, looking at the darkness below, the light in his eyes grew brighter and brighter, and finally dissipated at the moment it reached its peak. Wang Lin slowly stood up. He took a step forward, the body that hadn’t moved for thirteen years!

With this step, he didn’t use any supernatural powers, but was like a mortal, stepping from the top of a cliff to the void, his body immediately fell, towards the deep pit below, and was swallowed by the darkness in the blink of an eye.

Wang Lin’s body was falling rapidly. During this process, he closed his eyes. The suction force frantically poured into his body, turning into large hands, grabbing everything of him, and pulling it down fiercely.
As he plummeted, the air grew thick with an unholy frost, clinging to the sheer cliff face in patches of glimmering rime.

Each fathom descended held no sway over Wang Lin. His spirit was consumed by a strange and potent trance, his mind echoing with a singular, unwavering purpose: to become the very essence of absorption.

To merge with the pull… To embody its power… To *be* the suction itself…

In that instant, a thunderous roar erupted within Wang Lin’s nascent soul, a cacophony of celestial explosions. The grasping force, unbound by the confines of his flesh, plunged wildly into his spirit, coursing through its essence like a raging river.

His eyes snapped open. Though his body continued its relentless fall, a faint smile played upon his lips. He drew in a deep, deliberate breath, and against all reason, his descent faltered, arrested in mid-air.

The irresistible pull surged within him, meeting no resistance. His spirit, his flesh, his very being – all were subsumed, swallowed by the ravenous force. He had become a part of the infinite suction!

He cast his gaze down into the abyssal depths below. No bottom could be seen, only an endless and unfathomable chasm, a yawning maw akin to the mythical River Styx, capable of devouring all into some unknowable realm.

“It is time to depart… The third stroke of my Divine Sense Technique… shall be the power of the Yellow Springs…” Wang Lin murmured, his head tilting upward, as he slowly began to ascend.

“Descend… I beg of you… descend…” Within the depths of his soul, the woman’s voice, for the first time, betrayed a tremor of raw emotion.