Upon the blood-soaked fields of slaughter, every cultivator turned his gaze skyward, watching with a mixture of terror and awe as the last embers of celestial fire faded into the darkening expanse.

“So this is the Demon-Spawn’s sorcery! Truly dreadful!” one cried out.

“To face him is certain death!” another lamented.

“My own strength is nothing against such power, such unseen, earth-shattering magic!” Xu Ting stared, speechless, clenching his fist, unaware of the tremor that ran through him.

Within the Thunder God’s Temple, upon a monolith of emerald stone, the infantile Elder with the Oversized Head snapped awake, spewing forth a torrent of crimson. His form withered, his face contorted in rage, he staggered to his feet, his eyes sweeping the chamber. Then, a look of stark horror filled his face. “Gone…”

“Sit down!” bellowed the Elder of Lightning and Flame. The infantile Elder flinched, immediately obeyed, his heart hammering against his ribs, his mind in turmoil. He had intended to seek out Wang Lin’s true form and exact revenge, but upon rising and observing the assembly, he realized that only one hundred and eight remained. Four were missing! “Could it be… that within this Slaughterground, four did not merely send forth their divided spirits, but entered in their entirety?”

A cold sweat beaded on the infantile Elder’s brow as he silently thanked the heavens that he had not been one of those reckless four. A wave of fear washed over him.

“So that is why our pouches remain sealed, only treasures bound to the very soul may be called upon!” He inhaled deeply, the fear still clinging to him.

Above, in the carnage-ridden arena, a sigil of gold flashed into existence, embedding itself within the Immortal Seal. This glyph, imbued with the lingering essence of the infantile Elder’s severed spirit, pulsed with arcane life.

Wang Lin retrieved his Immortal Seal, his gaze lingering on the somewhat dazed Shen Gonghu, who stood nearby. He reached into his pouch, withdrawing a handful of elixirs, which he offered to Shen Gonghu.

“Seek a hidden place, meditate, and gather your strength.”

Shen Gonghu accepted the medicine, but as he was about to swallow it, his eyes narrowed, fixed with an odd intensity upon Wang Lin’s pouch. After a moment’s hesitation, he spoke. “Lord… can… can you open your storage pouch?”

Wang Lin froze. Shadowy thoughts raced through his mind, his keen intellect piecing together the truth in a heartbeat. “You cannot?” He turned a glacial gaze upon Shen Gonghu.

Shen Gonghu nodded, and before Wang Lin’s very eyes, he focused his spirit upon the pouch, attempting to open it. But the pouch remained stubbornly sealed. Wang Lin said nothing, his expression dark, and turned, striding away.

Shen Gonghu, filled with apprehension, did as he was bid, seeking a concealed refuge.

Wang Lin walked through the Slaughterground, a bitter smile playing upon his lips.

“A cunning artifice, this Slaughterground, where illusion and reality intertwine! Elder of Lightning and Flame, your guile is truly impressive! A hundred and twelve entered, and a hundred and eight remain tethered to you, leaving four free! I have already slain two who carried their pouches. That leaves but one. I wonder, who is this last, unlucky soul?”

As Wang Lin walked, his spirit stretched out, probing the battlefield for the presence of others. Whenever he sensed a cultivator, he moved with blinding speed, his mercy extinguished. This was a Slaughterground; those who entered did so knowing they might kill or be killed. Though even in death, they would not truly perish. And so, Wang Lin continued, examining each fallen foe’s pouch. If it remained sealed, he struck.

Elsewhere, a similar carnage was unfolding, with Xu Ting transformed into a swirling mist, devouring all in his path.

In the end, many cultivators, having secured their quota of kills, chose to end their own existence rather than give their remaining kills to another.

Time passed, and the numbers within the Slaughterground dwindled.

Wang Lin, if he encountered such a desperate soul, stayed his hand, content to claim their severed spirit at the moment of death with his golden Seal.

But Xu Ting was consumed by a savage hunger. Those who tried to escape him by self-destruction were often too slow to avoid his ravenous grasp. Even night fell upon the Killing Lands, and as darkness cloaked the battlefield, only a handful remained. Wang Lin, his senses spread wide, began to move towards Xu Ting.

Xu Ting was his ultimate target, especially for the sliver of primal essence within him, which Wang Lin had detected the first time he saw him. He would not be denied. Xu Ting, too, was probing the darkness, and finding Wang Lin, he shot through the night, a blur of darkness seeking its prey. Around him, the mist coalesced into a monstrous shade, roaring silently, drawn by the pull of Wang Lin.

“I pray that the last bearer of an open pouch is him!” Wang Lin whispered, his eyes burning with murderous intent.

Xu Ting flew forward, shattering the sound barrier with his speed. The monstrous shade behind him opened its maw wide, seeking to devour Wang Lin.

Wang Lin raised the Immortal Seal before him, a shield of burning gold, chasing away the night. The earth trembled as they clashed in the sky, the battle joined!

Upon the ground, Shen Gonghu emerged from his hiding place, perched atop a towering tree, watching the distant battle with rapt attention. Suddenly, a hand tapped him on the shoulder.

Startled, Shen Gonghu leapt forward, ready to unleash his powers, but a chuckle stopped him.

“Don’t be so tense! Actually, your sudden jump startled me a bit.” Nangong Han grinned, taking Shen Gonghu’s previous perch, gazing at the battle above. “To witness such a spectacle beneath the night sky is truly one of life’s great pleasures!” He patted his pouch, drew out a flask of wine, and took a long swig.

Shen Gonghu stared intently at Nangong Han’s pouch, then tore his gaze away, settling down to watch the battle.

“Heh, you saw through me, eh? Well, what can I say? I’m just a bit unlucky, and ended up here in my own body. Thankfully, I realised it early enough, otherwise I’d be fighting around like an idiot and get myself killed. So I found a place to hide and waited for it to all end, which is far safer, you know!” Nangong Han said with a worried look on his face, before taking another big swig of wine.

Nearby, the six-fingered cultivator sat upon another tree, his eyes gleaming in the darkness, never uttering a word.

“Let the two strongest fight!” he said in his mind with a sinister smile. “Only then will I have my chance!”

The clash between Xu Ting’s monstrous shade and Wang Lin’s Immortal Seal echoed across the Slaughterground, causing the very earth to tremble.

Xu Ting was blasted back for hundreds of feet, the shadowy spectre wavering behind him. Wang Lin retreated as well, his expression one of calm resolve. Xu Ting, still airborne, formed a set of hand incantations. Limitless essence surged into his every pore, and the black whirlpool on his brow spun faster and faster. He roared out, “Serpent Devour!”

With this, the shadow behind him roiled, transforming into a gigantic serpent, its eyes glinting with a cold, terrible hunger. It roared as it launched itself at Wang Lin.

Wang Lin had seen this technique before. He knew its power. He raised his right hand, forming incantations of his own. “Summon Winds!”

A dark wind burst forth from Wang Lin’s hand, filling the heavens, transforming into two raging dragons, roaring and twisting toward the serpent, the dark wind swirling as it swallowed the beast.

But Summon Wind was a magic of emperors. As it collided with the black wind, the wind collapsed into a gigantic serpent with a roar as it suddenly inflated to an infinite extent, and finally exploded! At the moment the gigantic serpent was destroyed, the black dragon that it was about to swallow suddenly returned and went straight for Xu Ting!