In the Void, Wang Lin’s speed increased exponentially as he acclimated to the nascent power blooming within his Yang Solidified form. Raw, potent energy surged through him, causing even a seasoned cultivator like himself a faint unease. With each stride, raw power flowed, seemingly tearing the fabric of space itself.

The transformation was drastic. Wang Lin moved with a slight unsteadiness, as if his physical form was not yet fully aligned with his newfound might.

A profound sensation bloomed within him – a sense of unity with the very cosmos. The line between self and the celestial sphere blurred, as if his thoughts could instantly manifest into reality.

The feeling intensified, escalating to an irresistible urge. His gaze sharpened, piercing the endless Void before him. His body throbbed with the desire to meld entirely with the universe, to become one with the very fabric of existence.

The idea, that the Void was merely an extension of his own being, seemed utterly preposterous. His reason, his cultivated calm, screamed of impossibility. Yet, the sensation coursing through his body and Divine Sense resonated with undeniable truth.

After a moment’s hesitation, Wang Lin cast aside his logic, closed his eyes, and yielded to the sensations flooding his senses. He took a step forward.

At that instant, the Void around him trembled. It was as if the emptiness itself had transformed into a placid pool of water, upon which Wang Lin’s foot had fallen. Invisible ripples emanated outwards from the point of contact, spreading rapidly in all directions.

Simultaneously, the raw power within him surged forth, permeating his entire being and blending with the very essence of the surrounding Void. An inexplicable connection formed.

Then, Wang Lin vanished.

It was a technique far beyond the mere instantaneous movement of a Core Formation cultivator, surpassing even the Displacement of a Soul Transformation master. Greater still than the grand Teleportation formed of countless shifts combined. This was the legendary Art of Spatial Condensation – a power cultivated by ancient Qi cultivators after their Qi had become the Divine Sense. In the modern cultivation world, only those who had truly stepped into the Second Step, those whose cultivation reached the Ascendant Void stage, could even sense its presence, let alone wield its might. Not every Second Step cultivator could perceive this art; it was not a matter of fate but of the sensitivity to the power of origin!

Countless leagues away from Wang Lin’s former position, the Blood Ancestor fled with desperate haste. His cultivation crippled to the Yang Solidification stage, many of his grand techniques were beyond his reach. Coupled with his damaged Divine Sense, his escape through the Void was precarious.

“Wang Lin! Once I have recovered, I shall have my revenge!” The Blood Ancestor’s speed was immense, a fleeting phantom tearing through the Void. After an age, he finally allowed himself a breath, muttering, “That whelp Wang Lin should be unable to pursue. I must find a suitable vessel to possess and use secret arts to swiftly return to the Ascendant Void stage.”

He pondered for a mere moment, then hardened his resolve. But at that very instant, his expression changed. Without hesitation, he bolted once more. A ripple shimmered behind him, a mere hundred feet away, and Wang Lin stepped forth from the Void.

As Wang Lin’s foot landed, he opened his eyes. He stared directly at the Blood Ancestor, who was nearly driven mad by the sheer terror of the encounter.

“Spatial Condensation! He has not even reached the Ascendant Void stage! How can he wield this power, exclusive to Second Step cultivators?! Impossible!” the Blood Ancestor lamented, his heart heavy with despair as he fled once more.

“They say those who can instantly traverse the realms of Yin and Yang, of Illusion and Reality, are destined to reach the pinnacle of the Second Step… Can it truly be true?” Fear clutched at the Blood Ancestor’s heart. Even before his cultivation had diminished, he had only grazed the surface of Spatial Condensation, a power felt but not truly learned.

He had heard that even the Lord of the Celestial Court had not fully comprehended it. This art, in the eyes of cultivators of their ilk, was revered as a power bordering on the Third Step. A primal terror towards Wang Lin took root in the Blood Ancestor’s heart, stemming from what he had witnessed. He had witnessed Wang Lin’s transformation, his ascent from a mere Soul Transformation cultivator to this terrifying being. “That whelp Wang Lin must have stumbled upon it by chance! Yes, it must be a fluke!” he desperately whispered, fleeing without a backward glance.

Wang Lin’s eyes shone with clarity as they opened. Even now, he could not fully grasp what had transpired. It felt as if he had merely lifted his right foot and set it down.

But in that instant, he felt like he had stepped through the river of time itself, with everything blurring before his eyes before he landed, standing here, before his target to kill, the fleeing Blood Ancestor.

“My Divine Sense did not even lock onto him… I merely possessed the intent to kill, and I miraculously traversed countless distances to arrive here.”

He stared at the distant, vanishing figure of the Blood Ancestor, yet did not pursue him immediately. He paused, contemplating the changes within him. More valuable than the immediate pursuit of the Blood Ancestor, Wang Lin realized, was the sensation he had just experienced.

Time seemed to stretch and compress, flowing as a stream. After half a stick of incense had burned, understanding blossomed within Wang Lin. He looked down at the Void, raised his right foot, and attempted another step.

Again, ripples formed, but his body remained in place. The sensation of unity with the cosmos eluded him.

Wang Lin frowned, glancing at the direction the Blood Ancestor had fled. He began to walk, step by step, in pursuit. Catching the Blood Ancestor was merely one goal. More importantly, Wang Lin sought to rediscover the feeling of merging with the universe, which he recalled with fervent longing.

“If that technique could be fully mastered… would one not become like… like the Void itself!” A strange light ignited in Wang Lin’s eyes as he stepped, now with an increasing speed.

Finally, his steps blurred. His form became a streak of light.
The ephemeral sensation, that feeling of oneness with the very heavens and earth, resurfaced within Wang Lin’s heart. He stilled his racing thoughts, striving to grasp it, yet the feeling was as gossamer as a dream, never fully within his control.

As this communion with the cosmos began to wane, Wang Lin inwardly sighed. The specter of the Blood Ancestor rose in his mind, and with a single stride, he vanished.

Fleeing for his very essence, the Blood Ancestor was wracked with a disquiet he had not felt so keenly even before the Elder Ancestor Yao and his Blood God Incarnation.

Suddenly, his expression twisted in alarm. Without a second thought, he retreated with desperate speed. But in that instant, a whip of shadow materialized from the void, lashing out with terrible force.

A sharp “crack” echoed as the Blood Ancestor wove arcane seals, unleashing a crimson burst of energy to meet the shadow-whip. He was hurled backward once more.

From beyond the receding shadow, the very fabric of reality rippled. And then, with a single step, Wang Lin emerged.

The Blood Ancestor’s mind reeled. This sight shattered his previous hopes. To witness the unfolding of such potent spatial magic twice over defied mere chance or luck.

Behind Wang Lin, the world seemed to sway. He thrust his right hand skyward, and in that instant, the Yellow Springs, the River of the Dead, unfurled across the heavens. Its swirling currents were thick with vengeful spirits, their piercing cries reverberating through all that existed.

This Yellow Springs was unlike that which had come before. Now, it pulsed with the vibrant energy of the very universe. It was clear that with Wang Lin’s ascension, even his most formidable spells had undergone a fundamental transformation. “Elemental…Yellow Springs!” Wang Lin intoned, his gaze locked upon the Blood Ancestor.

The Yellow Springs trembled. What had only moments before spanned the sky now stretched to encompass all of creation. Everything, Wang Lin himself included, was now consumed by the spectral river.

Cosmic energy roared and surged, while countless vengeful specters coalesced, lunging toward the Blood Ancestor from every direction.

The Blood Ancestor’s expression grew as dark as the river surrounding him. He was but a spirit essence, already fragile, and even more vulnerable within this spectral realm. Yet, the Blood Ancestor was who he was, and even now, Wang Lin found that destroying him was a task fraught with peril.

Though engulfed by the endless Yellow Springs, a fierce glint ignited in his eyes. He weaved a new incantation, and his entire being blazed with crimson light. A formidable pressure emanated from him.

“Blood Transformation!” The Blood Ancestor’s essence writhed and contorted. In a heartbeat, his entire spiritual form transformed into a colossal, clawed hand, lunging toward Wang Lin.

With the swipe of a single claw, three jagged fissures tore through reality, arcing toward Wang Lin with the roar of dragons. As they descended, Wang Lin raised his right hand, channeling the surging power within him. He struck outward, and with a thunderous boom, Wang Lin was forced back, retreating beyond the borders of the Yellow Springs. He roared, “Gather, River Souls!”

The myriad vengeful spirits within the Yellow Springs coalesced, infused with the raw power Wang Lin poured into them. They became even more fearsome, taking on the form of countless Yao Xixues, charging toward the Blood Ancestor.

The Blood Ancestor cried out in anguish. His blood-claw swiped behind him, as if attempting to cleave the Yellow Springs itself asunder. Though he knew these visages of Yao Xixue were but illusions, he could not bring himself to strike them.

With a desperate tear, he ripped a gash in the Yellow Springs, launching himself toward the opening. But now, the countless vengeful spirits of Yao Xixue swarmed him, attempting to impede his escape.

With a mournful cry, a look of grim resolve settled upon the Blood Ancestor. He swept the blood-claw before him, shattering the spectral Yao Xixues into oblivion. But their agonizing cries, though false, reverberated within his damaged soul, causing it to tremble.

Finally, the Yellow Springs buckled under the Blood Ancestor’s assault, the fissure widening until he burst free, carrying with him an unspeakable hatred. “Wang Lin! I swear an eternal vendetta upon you!” Even as he emerged, his spirit trembled and his ears still rang with Yao Xixue’s dying wails.

In that fleeting moment of his escape, Wang Lin descended before him, wielding the Soul-Devouring Banner. It transformed into a cloud of inky darkness, instantly engulfing the Blood Ancestor.

The Karmic Whip of Kun Ji crackled within the gloom.

“Reap!” Wang Lin intoned. The darkness constricted with ravenous speed, yet the Blood Ancestor fought on, still an embodiment of prideful resistance. The swirling darkness shuddered, threatening to dissipate with each blow.

Wang Lin’s eyes glinted with cold resolve. He exhaled a stream of his own vital energy.

This infusion of power invigorated the darkness, causing it to shrink with renewed ferocity. Yet, the Blood Ancestor’s resistance amplified in equal measure.

Crashing blows reverberated, and the darkness faltered, threatening to crumble. The Blood Ancestor’s muffled roar resonated through it, like thunder in Wang Lin’s ears.

“You think to bind me, little Wang Lin? You are not worthy!” The Blood Ancestor bellowed, and once more the darkness fractured, becoming ever more fragile. It was on the verge of vanishing altogether.

Once the banner shattered, it would mean its destruction. “Three Sovereign Souls, manifest!” Wang Lin roared. The three core spirits within the banner – the Kylin Soul, the Fourth Soul – surged forth, assailing the Blood Ancestor’s spirit.

Through the dissipating darkness, the Kylin Soul, in the shape of a spectral beast, could be seen descending upon the Blood Ancestor’s essence, its jaws clamping down without mercy. The Fourth Soul screamed as it pierced the Ancestor’s core, ripping away fragments of his essence with each passage.

And the final, nameless soul, coalesced into a ghostly figure, weaving a web of black tendrils around the Blood Ancestor, slowing his movements and hindering his struggles.
A bestial snarl twisted the Blood Ancestor’s face as crimson light erupted from his being. A complex incantation, dark and ancient, poured from his lips, fueling the light’s frenzied growth. The surrounding black mists began to pulse with an unholy violet hue.

“Blood God’s Ruin!” he bellowed, the crimson aura now grotesquely vibrant. His very soul unleashed an unimaginable force, a shockwave that slammed into the Qilin spirit above him. The spectral beast shrieked, dissolving under the assault, forcing the horrified Qilin Master to recoil, relinquishing his grip.

The subjective realms surrounding the Blood Ancestor crumbled to dust, vanishing into the ether. Even the Fourth Soul, a tendril of darkness piercing his form, was seized by the freed Blood Ancestor. With a crushing grip, he shattered it, black ichor seeping into the fog.

“Wang Lin, whelp!” The Blood Ancestor’s eyes burned red as he tore a rift in the surrounding darkness and lunged forward.

Wang Lin, ever stoic, remained unmoved. As the Blood Ancestor prepared to cross the threshold, Wang Lin spat forth a beam of golden light, within which nestled a single grain of sand.

The sand materialized, radiating an oppressive power that blanketed the scene. In an instant, it swelled to a hundred fathoms, becoming a mountain, no – an 印, a celestial seal forged from a fragment of the Immortal Realm, tempered by heavenly tribulations within the cosmic furnace. It was a treasure of immense power, brimming with immortal energy, and it descended upon the Blood Ancestor.

Sounds of cracking bone and straining sinew filled the air. The Blood Ancestor’s crimson aura flickered, his advancing foot forced to retreat.

The hundred-fathom 印 plummeted, a celestial judgment delivered with terrifying speed. The Blood Ancestor howled in defiance, launching himself upward, only to be crushed beneath the 印’s weight in a thunderous roar.

When the 印 rose, the Blood Ancestor was weakened, though the bestial rage still clung to his features, his crimson light flickering weakly. In that moment, the Karmic Kun Peng Whip lashed out.

With a sickening crack, the Blood Ancestor’s form wavered, nearly undone. He attempted to retaliate, but the 印 fell once more, the deafening crash threatening to obliterate his very soul.

A chilling laugh escaped his lips, madness glinting in his eyes. Then, Wang Lin’s voice cut through the chaos.

“Blood Ancestor, I will not destroy you! I offer you a chance to see Yao Xixue again. If you self-destruct, you will never behold her face!” Wang Lin’s tone was cold, implacable.

The Blood Ancestor fell silent, the madness receding like a tide. Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed, his hands flashing through a series of seals. “Bind!”

The surrounding darkness surged inward, engulfing the Blood Ancestor. The Kun Peng Whip, now a serpentine coil, wrapped around him, while the three damaged Main Souls emerged, hungrily devouring his essence.

The fragment 印 hovered above, its weight a constant threat. Under its immense pressure, the black fog contracted with unnatural speed, shrinking into a three-fathom banner that Wang Lin seized in his grasp.

The banner unfurled, its surface transformed. The Soul Devouring Banner, once a blank canvas of black, now depicted a scene frozen in time.

The Blood Ancestor’s likeness was rendered with horrifying clarity, the Kun Peng Whip binding him like chains, the three Main Souls circling like grotesque guardians. His face was a mask of despair, of bitter resentment and stifled longing.

Wang Lin gazed at the Soul Devouring Banner, a somber weight settling upon him. Victory brought no elation, only a profound weariness.

The battle against the Blood Ancestor had been a perilous dance with death, hidden beneath a facade of composure. One misstep would have brought his demise. It was a trial as dangerous as his escape from the Star-Gazing Palace, perhaps even more so.

For the Star-Gazing Beast possessed only limited intelligence.

“We were not meant to be enemies. Had you simply taken Yao Xixue and left, this tragedy could have been avoided,” Wang Lin murmured.

He had not sought this conflict. It was self-preservation that drove him. To live, he had to fight. To survive, he had to vanquish the Blood Ancestor who had sworn his destruction.

Yao Xixue was the Blood Ancestor’s weakness, and to bind him, Wang Lin had to exploit that vulnerability. When survival was at stake, honor held little sway.

“Blood Ancestor, I respect the love you bear as a father. I, too, have a son, and I know the rage that ignites when one’s children are threatened. But did you ever offer me a chance to explain? Your daughter, Yao Xixue, is unharmed in my care. If not for her machinations against me, would I, knowing the Blood Ancestor’s power, have dared to provoke you?” Wang Lin spoke, knowing the Blood Ancestor could hear his words.

“Your daughter was free to plot against me, but I, Wang Lin, was denied the right to defend myself? Though you love her, you are blind to her faults. You ignore the past, dwelling only on the present. Your love, though sincere, is a crippling indulgence. I offered you an opportunity for understanding, but you chose vengeance. In my eyes, you are no different than Yao Xixue. ‘A child’s faults are the father’s burden,’ a saying I understood a thousand years ago, yet one that still eludes you.”

Wang Lin lifted his gaze to the distant sun, dismissing the question of whether the Blood Ancestor understood. His conscience was clear.

He raised his right hand, summoning the fragment of the Immortal Realm. The golden light flared, shrinking the 印 until it became a mere speck of sand, which he swallowed.

He brushed off his robes, as if to banish the lingering shadows, and transformed into a streak of light, speeding away.

“Within this realm of thunder, I must grow stronger. My powers are lacking. Before, my cultivation was insufficient to acquire Immortal Arts within this realm, but now, with my current power, I can participate in the struggles for Immortal abodes.

My goal is the Immortal Arts! Wan’er, do not despair. I will return to East Sea Star! If there is even a glimmer of hope to awaken you, I, Wang Lin, will fight to seize it!”
Wang Lin pressed a hand to his brow. With each surge of his cultivation, the hope of awakening Li Muwan blossomed anew within his heart. He had ventured to this perilous Luotian Starfield not only to evade the ancient horrors that hunted him, but also, and perhaps more importantly, to resurrect Li Muwan. Clinging to the precious, unbroken threads of his love for her, Wang Lin walked towards the very edge of nothingness, his gaze fixed upon the fragmented continent ahead.

From that moment onward, the Realm of Thunder held a new power, a new hunter of treasures, and that was Wang Lin.

Upon the fragmented continent, Li Yuan’s desperate flight was nearing its end, his body a husk, drained of all vitality. Only the cruel amusement of his pursuers kept him alive. Their twisted game of cat and mouse served only to deepen his humiliation, as the young lord used him as a living target, experimenting with various arcane powers and forbidden spells.

Beside the young lord stood an elder, his aura radiating a chilling indifference. With each cold instruction, with each precise correction of the lord’s technique, Li Yuan’s torment intensified.

Of the nine celestial swords he once wielded, only three remained. The others had been casually snatched from his grasp mid-spell by the elder, their spiritual essence effortlessly erased before they were tossed to the young lord.

These shattered weapons, in turn, became baubles for the young lord’s lady companion.

A tide of despair and fury swelled within Li Yuan’s heart. The woman’s tinkling laughter, like the chime of mocking bells, pierced him like shards of ice. His wounds festered, untended. His right arm, long neglected, was a breeding ground for corruption, alive with writhing, white parasites – not maggots, but a toxic spawn unleashed by his tormentor.

Li Yuan felt their vile presence everywhere, crawling beneath his skin, even into the depths of his very soul. He had become nothing more than a host, a living vessel to nurture these loathsome creatures.

His pace faltered, his strength waning. Death crept closer, painting his face not with pallor, but with a ghastly, fevered flush.

“Young Master, the prey is nearly spent,” the elder observed, his gaze flicking from Li Yuan’s failing form.

The young lord smiled, a cruel twist of his lips. “So soon? Still, he has shown some resilience. Thirteen days, you know. The others rarely last beyond eight. Uncle Chou, next time, find me a cultivator of the Yin Void realm. Perhaps then, the game will last longer, and my Eight-Faced Soul Devourers will mature more quickly.”

The elder remained impassive. “As you wish.” His reply was a single word, yet it spoke of unquestioning loyalty and absolute power. The woman clinging to the young lord’s arm, her eyes wide, said, “Brother Yao, what of his swords?”

The young lord laughed, drawing her close. “You shall have them all, my love! Not only these nine paltry blades, but everything within the Realm of Thunder itself. Whatever I desire, I shall possess. We shall delve into his soul and uncover the source of his swords, then claim them for our own!”

The woman giggled, her eyes sparkling with avarice and a deeper, darker desire. “Of course, brother. As a member of the Yao Clan, you are capable of anything.”

Pride flared in the young lord’s eyes. The name “Yao” echoed through the Luotian Starfield, commanding respect even from the Thunder Immortal Hall. As a member of the Yao Clan, within the Realm of Thunder, anything he laid his eyes upon was his for the taking.

At that moment, Wang Lin emerged from the void, stepping onto the fragmented continent.

“I wonder where Li might be…” he murmured, his divine sense instinctively reaching out. But in an instant, his face darkened, the air around him crackling with a killing intent that had been dormant since he sealed the Blood Ancestor.

Li Yuan’s gaze had dimmed, his focus lost.

“Is this… the end?” he rasped, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “Perhaps… it is a release. Alas, Brother Xu, I have yet to impart my deepest knowledge…”

He could barely see now. In his eyes, he could just discern the pale, writhing forms of the parasites. Yet, strangely, he felt no pain.

“Even in death,” Li Yuan vowed, “a member of the Li Clan shall die with dignity!” Gathering the last vestiges of his strength, he ceased his flight and turned to face his tormentors.

Burning hatred blazed in his eyes. “I have done you no wrong! Even had you desired my treasures, you could have taken them! But you chose to mock and torment me. Know this, I shall return as a vengeful spirit to repay you for your cruelty!”

With a final, desperate surge of power, Li Yuan retrieved his remaining three celestial swords. He pointed them towards the young lord, their blades glowing with righteous fury.

“Such folly!” the young lord sneered. He clenched his fist, summoning a crimson hand of blood that snatched the swords from the air.

Li Yuan’s face contorted in a final act of defiance. With his free hand, he formed a complex seal and pressed it to his brow. A column of black light pulsed, branching into countless threads that formed a web of bizarre runes, a forbidden array of immense power.

With a guttural cry, Li Yuan spat forth a mouthful of blood, splattering it across the runes. Amongst the crimson droplets, the white parasites wriggled, a gruesome sight that spoke of his utter contamination.

Drinking in his lifeblood, the runes surged towards the young lord, moving with blinding speed. The young lord, however, merely scoffed, his eyes filled with arrogance. The elder stepped forward, raising his hand. The very fabric of reality warped around him as he concentrated a surge of celestial energy.

“Shatter!” he roared.
In a heartbeat, the incoming enchantments were swallowed by an all-consuming nothingness, shattering with resounding cracks. Yet, from the debris, tendrils of blackness coalesced, weaving a new, malevolent enchantment imbued with the chilling aura of annihilation, hurtling towards the aged sorcerer.

The elder tapped his satchel, summoning an ancient mirror. As it shimmered into place before him, a sudden darkness descended, as if all light in the realm focused upon the glass. The black threads writhed, then dissolved into nothingness.

Li Yuan, weakened, coughed a torrent of blood. The pallor of death deepened upon his face, and he uttered a broken laugh, “It is not the power of my clan’s enchantments that failed. Had I not aided Xu, expending my inner strength, and had I time to recover, this mirror would have been shattered by my heart’s own bindings! Yet, Xu bestowed great kindness upon my family; I do not regret this sacrifice. Let death claim me!”

As Li Yuan’s laughter faded, the elder advanced, casting him not even a glance. His foot lashed out, striking Li Yuan’s body, causing a cacophony of cracks to echo through the air. Again, Li Yuan spewed crimson, his vision dimming. That single blow had extinguished every last spark of celestial energy within him, leaving him utterly defenseless.

“Young Lord,” the elder said, stepping back, his face a mask of ice. “This one is no longer a threat. You may proceed.” He felt no shame in a being of his stature striking down a mere aspirant.

The youth, still struggling to contain the three enchanted blades, seized them as Li Yuan’s power crumbled, severing the connection. He tossed them carelessly to the woman at his side.

With a cruel smirk, the youth strode toward Li Yuan, his voice dripping with malice. “Let us see from whence you obtained these celestial swords!” He raised his right hand, preparing to crush Li Yuan’s skull.

“Do hurry, cousin,” the woman purred, her eyes gleaming with cruel amusement as she toyed with the captured blades.

The elder remained impassive, his expression indifferent.

But then, as the hand of the youth, Yao, descended, a ripple tore through reality beside Li Yuan! The elder’s face twisted in alarm, his composure shattered. He lunged forward, bellowing, “Young Lord, retreat!”

The youth hesitated, stunned.

In that instant, an unimaginable wave of killing intent erupted from the rift. It was so profound that the air itself froze, and delicate snowflakes began to fall.

Pale with terror, the youth abandoned his intended victim and recoiled, but it was too late. A figure materialized from the ripple, and as it did, the killing intent reached a fever pitch.

Thunder boomed across the heavens as the figure took a single stride and thrust a finger into the youth’s chest.

A chorus of snaps filled the air as the youth was hurled backward, spewing blood. Every bone in his body had been shattered.

The figure advanced again, this time placing a finger upon the youth’s brow. An immense energy poured into him, a raging torrent that instantly shattered his remaining celestial power. The youth’s face contorted in agony. That single finger had become, in his mind, a source of inescapable doom.

As he flew through the air in a bloody arc, the violence within him continued unabated. First, his celestial power was obliterated, then his very foundation crumbled. Finally, his blood was forced from his veins and through the pores of his skin, painting him crimson.

He was a living fountain of blood, a testament to the unstoppable force ravaging him from within. The energy continued to assault his body, tearing muscle from bone, pulverizing organs into dust. Even his skull could not withstand the onslaught, cracking and crumbling to release the contents of his mind.

Before he reached the ground, his physical form was utterly annihilated, reduced to nothingness.

Only his spirit remained, adrift in a haze of confusion and terror, yearning to cry out. But as the last vestiges of his physical form dissipated, the energy surged one last time, tearing at his spirit, threatening to unravel it completely. Yet it did not fade. Instead, it coalesced, forming a radiant sphere the size of a fist, which was seized by Wang Lin, the figure who had emerged from the rift. He placed the sphere upon the brow of Li Yuan, nourishing his waning spirit.

“Who… *who* gives you the right… to harm my friend?” The voice, colder than the glacial winds, echoed from Wang Lin.

All had transpired in the span of a breath, so swift that the elder’s warning had scarcely left his lips before it was over.

A cold sweat, an unusual occurrence, beaded upon the elder’s brow. His composure had crumbled, his serenity shattered, and his indifference had vanished. In its place was a growing sense of dread and a sliver of raw fear. He had barely glimpsed the attacker, and the raw power emanating from the rift had nearly stolen his breath.

Even more frightening was the aura of the one who had emerged – a being so attuned to the fabric of existence that he seemed to be one with the very heavens.

“Too terrifying… I know all the ascetics of the Lightning Immortal Realm. Who… who is this man?” He grew ashen, perspiration drenching him. The chilling intent emanating from Wang Lin shook him to his core, and he instinctively staggered backward, fighting the urge to flee.

Nearby, the woman stood frozen, her mind blank with shock.

“Xu… Brother Xu…” On the ground, Li Yuan gazed at Wang Lin, his eyes alight with emotion. “Help me… kill them!”