Li Yuan, eyes gleaming with shrewd calculation, retreated swiftly into the shadowed maw of the grotto. There, he settled upon the earth, legs crossed, hands weaving arcane sigils before his brow. Threads of deepest night, born of his very will, snaked forth, solidifying into wards of power, each a barrier against intrusion.

His own meager strength was insufficient to directly aid in the coming conflict, yet given time, he possessed the skill to weave enchantments that would deny entry to all but the most formidable for a span. Such was his intent: to secure a path of retreat for the doomed Zhu Jiu.

The gaze of Wang Lin, however, was unlike any he had beheld before. It was not the hopeful glance he once cast upon Shen Gonghu, hungering for the power of the Third Step. Nay, this gaze was born of newfound dominion: the sealing of the Blood Ancestor, the slaying of the two wraiths of Yin Void, and a burgeoning understanding of his own Dao. This gaze was pregnant with power, a wordless declaration of his ascent.

The man, his face twisted in a mirthless grin, saw Wang Lin’s gaze as a challenge. He refused to falter, instead taking a deliberate step, covering a score of paces, and closing the distance between them.

“A jest! Within the Realm of Thunderous Immortals, you dare claim dominion over a thousand fathoms?” But the words died on his lips, for his gaze met that of Wang Lin.

It was a gaze of frigid tranquility, as if regarding one already departed from this mortal coil.

Yet, the man perceived something far more terrifying. As Wang Lin’s eyes locked onto his, the world around him seemed to dissolve into nothingness. Only that gaze remained.

It held no overt malice, only an unsettling calm, yet the man felt his very soul tremble. His inner energies spiraled uncontrollably, as if only by such turmoil could he withstand the dread emanating from that singular focus.

Cold sweat beaded upon his brow. He felt utterly exposed, as if his skin had been flayed away, leaving his innermost being vulnerable to that piercing scrutiny.

The feeling intensified, a sense of disintegration. He imagined his organs, his very essence, laid bare before those eyes. As the sensation deepened, his spirit felt altered, no longer himself, but rather a mere wisp of primordial qi.

Never in his years of seeking enlightenment had he experienced such a profound and horrifying sensation. It was as if everything he was, body and spirit, was being meticulously unwound, layer by layer, until he no longer possessed the certainty of his own existence.

A torrent of crimson bile erupted from his chest. His face flushed an unnatural hue, and he spewed forth the venomous fluid. Clarity returned to his eyes, but it was laced with a terror that threatened to consume him.

From the moment Wang Lin’s gaze fell upon him to the man’s convulsive retch, only a handful of heartbeats passed. So swift was the exchange that those nearby had not even glimpsed its true nature.

As the man choked on his own blood, Wang Lin moved. He took a single, silent step. But that single stride sent a fresh wave of horror through the man, who recoiled as if struck by an unseen force.

Why, he could not fathom, but he felt as though Wang Lin had just crushed his spirit beneath his heel. The inexplicable sensation sent tremors through his very being. He had boldly strode forth only moments ago, assured by the presence of his comrades and the power of Tang Yanfeng. Now, he felt utterly alone, facing a mighty master of the Yang Solid realm.

He felt that unless he retreated, doom was certain.

Wang Lin, his expression unchanged, took another ten steps, drawing closer to his prey. The man’s face grew ashen. He felt each stride as a thunderous blow, threatening to shatter his mind.

He retreated, seemingly against his will, his feet carrying him away in a desperate, unconscious flight.

He could hear the frantic pounding of his own heart, growing faster and louder with each step Wang Lin took, building to a deafening crescendo.

After the tenth step, Wang Lin paused, his uplifted foot poised above the earth. With a gaze of glacial intensity, he brought it down. The man cried out, spewing forth another torrent of blood. He retreated with the wild abandon of a madman.

Unknowingly, he had long since crossed the boundary of Wang Lin’s thousand-fathom domain. As Wang Lin’s foot finally landed, the man’s heart reached its breaking point.

*Thump… thump… THUMP…*

His heart imploded. His inner energies, untethered, turned against him, tearing through his flesh, flooding his spirit, and shattering it into a million fragments.

Silence descended upon the scene. Tang Yanfeng’s eyes narrowed, filled with a wariness he rarely felt. Few in his life, especially among his peers, had inspired such caution.

He was not merely wary, but truly alarmed. He knew that even he, Tang Yanfeng, could slay the man. But to shatter him so completely with a mere gaze and a handful of steps was a feat that left him breathless.

With his profound understanding of the Dao, he knew that the power had somehow harnessed the very essence of his being. The man, his actions were a show of power, and his own inability, crushed his heart.

The woman at his side was pale with dread. She stood just beyond the thousand-fathom mark, yet dared not step forward.

The thousand-fathom domain had become, in truth, a place of death. Wang Lin turned from the slain man, his gaze now falling upon the youth who had followed so closely behind.

The youth’s face turned deathly white. His cultivation was weaker than that of the slain man, barely a foothold in the Yin Void realm. His inner energies were meager and unstable. Seeing Wang Lin’s eyes upon him, he retreated without hesitation, fleeing beyond the thousand-fathom mark. There, he clasped his hands together, bowing deeply. “Venerable Sir, I beg your forgiveness! I have erred. From this day forth, I shall never cross this boundary. If I break this oath, may this serve as testament!”

With a surge of inner energy, he raised his left hand, and his little finger exploded in a cloud of crimson mist.

Wang Lin glanced at the youth, then turned away.

The youth breathed a sigh of immense relief. Compared to his life, the loss of a finger was nothing. His elation at becoming a Yin Void cultivator had vanished, replaced by a grim determination to tread with the utmost caution in the days to come.

Wang Lin paid no further attention to those beyond his boundary. He turned toward the shadowed grotto where Li Yuan waited, and stepped within.

Just as he did, Tang Yanfeng spoke. “Friend, state your name!”

“Xu Mu!” The voice of Wang Lin echoed from the grotto. Then, the wards shimmered, sealing the entrance completely.

“Xu Mu… Tang Yanfeng will remember that name!” Tang Yanfeng had desperately wanted to test his strength against Wang Lin but the feeling that a victory was not to be had, restrained him.