The ancestral spirit of the Thunder Dragon, ancient and immense, inspired awe in the hearts of the onlookers. The elder of the Chosen Clan, his weathered face etched with a complex tapestry of emotions, gazed upon Wang Lin’s spirit form. He sighed, a sound barely audible above the crackling energy, and took a hesitant step forward. “Exalted… Exalted Immortal,” he croaked, his voice trembling, “This humble one has a question to ask…”

Wang Lin paid the elder no heed. The colossal Thunder Dragon, a tempestuous whirlwind of scales and raw power, descended upon the God-Slaying Chariot. His gaze locked onto the sixth rune, and without hesitation, he devoured it. In the same breath, driven by an instinct born of ages, he consumed the seventh as well.

The watching throng, positioned just beyond a hundred paces, gasped in unison. All eyes were fixed upon the unfolding spectacle.

In that moment, Xu Liguo, ever the opportunist, seized his chance. He launched himself into the air, a whirlwind of righteous indignation, and pointed a trembling finger at the Chosen Clan. “My master is engaged in the sacred act of forging a treasure!” he bellowed, his voice ringing with conviction. “You shall not pass, not while I, Xu Liguo, still draw breath! Only over my lifeless corpse will you dare intrude!”

His words, each one a hammer blow of loyalty, were amplified by the intensity of his gaze. He projected an aura of unwavering devotion, a storm of defiance that threatened to sweep all before it.

The elder of the Chosen Clan retreated hastily, his face etched with respect. “We would not trespass within the hundred paces,” he stammered. “We merely seek to…”

Xu Liguo cut him off with another roar. “Silence! Only over my lifeless corpse will you disturb my master’s work! My life is his to command, he who plucked me from the depths of despair, who taught me the secrets of the arcane arts, who gifted me with the chance of a legacy, who bestowed upon me my current power! You wish to hinder him? Then you shall have to break me, Xu Liguo, first!”

His voice cracked with emotion, his eyes burning with the fire of unwavering commitment. It was as if the heavens themselves could bear witness to his resolve. Should any force, however mighty, threaten his lord, he would gladly shatter into a thousand pieces before allowing harm to befall him. The elder of the Chosen Clan shuddered, his soul touched by the depth of such fealty. They, the entire Clan, were but servants to the Immortals.

“This one understands the meaning of loyalty,” the elder murmured, his gaze now tinged with respect. “My Clan, too, understands this virtue!” He mused, “To think, this spirit possesses such unwavering dedication. Such loyalty… a boon, a blessing, for any Immortal who commands it!”

Standing beside him, Ta Shan observed the scene, his heart a storm of conflicting emotions.

“It is not that our Clan lacks loyalty, but rather that those we pledged ourselves to have abandoned us… Compared to that, this spirit has found one truly worthy of such devotion…”

Xu Liguo’s performance, a masterpiece of calculated theatrics, went entirely unnoticed by Wang Lin. The Thunder Dragon spirit, radiating raw power, continued its relentless assault upon the two ingested runes, seeking to subjugate them through sheer force of will.

Rumbles of thunder echoed within his spiritual form as the power of the runes resisted. One of the runes, assaulted by the Thunder Dragon’s electric dominion, began to crumble. The collapse was not instantaneous, but a slow, grinding process of dissolution.

Below, the God-Slaying Chariot pulsed with dark energy, its light growing ever more intense, threatening to consume all surrounding illumination.

Against this backdrop of encroaching darkness, Wang Lin’s spiritual form became an awe-inspiring sight, a beacon of power that drew the eyes and stole the breath. The Chosen Clan, arrayed beyond the safety line, trembled before the spectacle, their hearts unable to find solace.

In the midst of his display of righteous defiance, Xu Liguo stole a quick, surreptitious glance at Wang Lin. “Bah,” he muttered to himself, “Nothing special. Old Xu could do that, swallowing a few runes. Why, I’ve swallowed whole *men*!” Despite his flippant words, his eyes betrayed a flicker of awe. He adopted a look of worshipful admiration, his body subtly trembling in imitation of one overwhelmed by his master’s power.

To the casual observer, he was the epitome of a loyal servant, overcome by the sheer magnificence of his master’s skills.

Ta Shan, watching Xu Liguo’s antics, sighed once more, his heart aching with unspoken desires.

The elder of the Chosen Clan, too, nodded in silent approval, further convinced that this spirit, Xu Liguo, possessed a loyalty that was both admirable and rare. In truth, the Chosen Clan had dwelt in isolation for so long that they had little contact with the outside world. Though not foolish, they were no match for Xu Liguo’s wiles.

Xu Liguo’s entire life had been a dance of deception, a tapestry woven with cunning and improvisation. The trials and tribulations of the past thousand years had honed his skills to near perfection. If his true nature were so easily discerned, he would not be Xu Liguo.

Time slipped by, marked only by the shifting shadows and the rumbling thunder. After several hours, Wang Lin’s spirit shuddered. The internal thunder intensified, reaching a deafening crescendo before abruptly ceasing.

Wang Lin’s spirit opened its eyes, blazing with incandescent light. The final two runes were now fully integrated, assimilated into his being. Before him lay a crucial decision.

“Should I bind my life force to this weapon, forging a true natal treasure?” Wang Lin pondered. He stirred the seven strange energies within his spirit, merging them into a unique sigil that materialized upon his chest. As the sigil appeared, the dark light of the God-Slaying Chariot condensed into a single beam, searing itself into the mark upon Wang Lin’s chest.

“God-Slaying Chariot, unseal!” His divine will roared, a thunderclap in the spiritual realm. The dark energy of the chariot seemed to pour into Wang Lin, but in the next instant, the countless spines adorning the vehicle flared with renewed intensity. From the depths of the chariot, a spectral form began to coalesce.

It was a Soul Beast, a towering creature of nightmare made manifest. It stood a hundred paces high, a behemoth of primal power. With a deafening roar that ripped through the very fabric of reality, the Soul Beast unleashed its fury. The Chosen Clan, caught in the wave of sound, blanched and staggered. The plant-like symbols upon their foreheads pulsed with a sickly light. They stumbled backward, only a handful, those of the highest cultivation, managing to remain standing. Even they trembled, their resistance short-lived as they were forced to retreat.

The Mosquito Beast, every bristle on its body standing on end, snarled at the specter, its body radiating a terrifying pressure. The Thunder Frog, its throat bulging with gathered energy, pulsed with stored energy, primed to unleash its most devastating attack.

Only Xu Liguo, despite being buffeted by the roar, struggled to maintain his pose. “Unless you tread upon my lifeless corpse, you shall not…”

But before he could finish his grandiose declaration, the immense Soul Beast lowered its gaze, its eyes locking onto Xu Liguo. The charlatan immediately swallowed the rest of his words.
“May your ancestor, Old Man Xu, be cursed with a lineage of rusty blades!” Xu Liguo spat inwardly, though his feet moved with surprising alacrity, carrying him far back in an instant. “Once I’ve drained that inheritance dry, you’ll find I’ve no fear of you!”

Wang Lin, however, remained serene. His gaze, sharp as a hawk’s, was fixed upon the ethereal beast before him. With a surge of his nascent soul, he reclaimed his physical form, and in a heartbeat, he was airborne, hovering in the air like a wraith.

The soul beast, its eyes ablaze with an unholy light, abandoned its pursuit of Xu Liguo. It locked onto Wang Lin, and with a roar that shattered the very air, it charged. Its speed defied mortal comprehension; barely had it begun its advance when it stood before Wang Lin, jaws agape, ready to devour him whole.

But Wang Lin did not flinch. He stood his ground, and as the beast lunged, he uttered a single word, heavy with power: “Collapse!”

The effect was instantaneous and devastating. The beast’s form fractured, erupting into a maelstrom of spectral shards that painted the sky. Yet, in the next breath, the fragments coalesced, the creature reforming, its crimson eyes burning with undiminished hatred. It bellowed again, a challenge to the heavens themselves, and lunged once more at Wang Lin.

“Collapse!” Wang Lin repeated, his voice as calm and unyielding as the mountain stones.

Again, the soul beast, barely launched, met the same fate. Its form disintegrated in a cacophony of spectral echoes.

*Seven Runes of Refinement,* Wang Lin recalled from the ancient jade slip, *if bonded to the soul, they grant absolute control. Otherwise, these runes manifest as the Seven Shattering Decrees, capable of shattering the guardian soul beasts that bar the way to the God-Slaying Chariot, forcing them to yield.*

*Should the beast resist after seven attempts, a soul-bond is the only path. Without it, this treasure remains beyond your grasp!*

The twice-shattered beast, its rage intensified by pain, gathered itself again. This time, as it charged, it fragmented into a multitude of phantom selves, each a ravenous maw seeking to engulf Wang Lin from every direction.

A slight furrow creased Wang Lin’s brow. He was not one to show mercy. A millennium of life had forged within him a ruthless pragmatism. This beast’s stubborn defiance demanded a more forceful lesson. A cold light flickered in his eyes as he spoke, his voice devoid of emotion: “Collapse! Collapse! Collapse!”

At the utterance of each decree, a wave of force rippled outwards, tearing apart the phantasmal beasts. The countless fragments, thrown back by the force, slammed together in a second, devastating implosion.

A shriek of agony ripped through the air as the third shattering took hold. The soul beast was plunged into a torment beyond mortal comprehension.

Isolated collapses it might have endured, but the relentless, threefold assault broke something deep within its spectral heart. Terror, raw and consuming, bloomed where only rage had resided.

As the beast reassembled, a flicker of hesitation danced within its fiery eyes. Wang Lin seized the moment, his gaze sharpening like a honed blade. “Collapse!”

The word crashed like thunder, and the newly formed beast exploded once more. The nascent fear, nourished by the previous torment, now consumed its entire being.

When the beast reformed, a look of profound awe had replaced its fury. Its gaze was fixed on Wang Lin, and it dared not defy him. It bowed its head, a gesture of complete and utter submission.

Wang Lin floated effortlessly through the air, alighting upon the beast’s head with a whisper of wind. He pricked his finger, channeling his life force into the ancient mark required to unlock the God-Slaying Chariot, and pressed it against the beast’s spectral flesh.

The soul beast shuddered, its form rapidly shrinking. Wang Lin leaped back as the creature contracted inwards, transforming into a shimmering orb of mist, no larger than a fist. The orb pulsed with celestial light as it solidified, becoming a chrysalis of pure energy.

A faint crackling filled the air as a fissure split the cocoon’s surface. More cracks spiderwebbed outwards until, with a final burst of energy, the chrysalis shattered. From within emerged a butterfly of breathtaking beauty, its wings adorned with every hue imaginable. It fluttered once, scattering a shimmering dust of iridescent scales.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed, captivated by the ethereal grace of the creature.

Just then, a ripple distorted the air above the altar below, where the Xuan Yin Cauldron rested. A figure emerged from the teleportation array within, a man clad in robes of emerald green. He moved with unnatural speed, heading straight for the gateway. He materialized upon its surface, passing through as if it were nothing more than smoke.

The man, his face impassive, his eyes like chips of ice, surveyed the scene.

“Insolent rabble of this lower realm,” he hissed, his voice laced with contempt, “what treachery is this?”