In the vast expanse of the Alliance Starfield, beneath the cold gaze of distant suns, Wang Lin, his hair now a cascade of silver, moved with a measured, unhurried pace. Each step resonated, creating ripples in the very fabric of space, bridging the impossible distances between stars.

He surveyed the cosmos, a tapestry both strange and achingly familiar. A serene countenance masked the depths within, for he had been gone from this place for an age untold.

When last he departed, he was but a nascent power, newly Ascended. Now, he returned a Kṣaṇa Nirvana cultivator, a master of realms unseen.

“Tian Yunzi, Ling Tianhou…” he breathed, his eyes glinting like distant starlight. “I, Wang Lin, have returned!” Within his interdimensional pouch lay the key to the subterranean caverns of the Demon Spirit Land, an artifact he had guarded with unwavering resolve.

In days past, Wang Lin’s strength was but a flicker in the grand scheme of the Alliance Starfield, his influence barely extending beyond the Seventh-Grade cultivation nations. But now, as a Kṣaṇa Nirvana cultivator, he commanded respect, even in the formidable Luo Tian Starfield. His return to the Alliance was a harbinger; a storm that could be unleashed at his will.

Yet, Wang Lin knew well that the Alliance was not Luo Tian. The waters here ran deep and treacherous.

“The coming war between Luo Tian and the Alliance requires caution,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with cunning. “I must tread carefully, lest I be drawn into the fray prematurely.”

Upon his return, Wang Lin’s innate caution bloomed anew. He was acutely aware of the cunning that permeated the Alliance Starfield, particularly among those ancient cultivators who had Ascended beyond the mortal coil. Each one was a master of deception, their minds as labyrinthine as the cosmos itself. Even those whose cultivation matched his own were not to be trusted.

One misstep, and he could be devoured, soul and essence, without even realizing his folly. This was not the coddled familial cultivation of Luo Tian; this was the raw, untamed reality of survival of the fittest.

“Still,” he mused, a chilling edge entering his voice, “with my current strength, and the power of my Avatar combined, I need not cower in the shadows of this starfield.” Through the subtle threads of the cosmos, he had already ascertained the precise location of his other self.

With each step, Wang Lin unfurled his divine sense, a vast net cast across the void. Soon, it snagged upon what he sought: a desolate, untamed star, bereft of all habitation.

The fabric of space shimmered, and Wang Lin merged with the essence of the world, vanishing from sight.

He materialized upon the desolate world, its surface sparsely nourished by spiritual energy, yet teeming with a verdant vitality. A dense, primordial forest blanketed the land, a testament to nature’s resilience.

He remembered the sacrifice he had made to save Li Muwan – the expenditure of his own life force to acquire the Celestial Weaver’s Art. The centuries of yearning had converged into a single, fleeting opportunity, one he could not afford to squander. The art had both succeeded and failed.

Though Li Muwan did not fully return to life, she now possessed a physical form, a glimmer of hope rekindled.

Wang Lin had sacrificed a significant portion of his vitality, but he possessed a secret plan to replenish it, one unknown even to Qingshui. It was a method to subvert the natural course of life.

Despite his seemingly youthful appearance, belied only by his silver hair, the truth was that beneath a carefully woven protective rune, Wang Lin’s essence had aged, leaving him as weathered as a millennia-old patriarch.

The pull of the Cycle of Reincarnation had grown ever stronger, yet Wang Lin’s countenance remained unperturbed. He descended upon the vibrant earth, and as his feet touched the soil, he drew a deep breath and settled into a meditative posture. Behind him, Tasha stepped forward, mirroring his stance, his eyes burning with icy determination. He would be the bulwark against any threat, the silent guardian of his master.

Wang Lin exhaled slowly, then raised his right hand, forming a series of intricate mudras. A tendril of black light coalesced upon his index finger, at first faint and insubstantial, but soon possessing a terrifying power.

“The Finger of Obliteration…” Wang Lin murmured, gazing at the dark essence swirling at his fingertip. He had glimpsed the path to the Third Step, but analysis had shown that prolonged use of this technique would hinder his return to his true origin. Thus, he had abandoned it.

However, when Xiang Yundong spoke of the immense vitality required to restore Li Muwan, the Finger of Obliteration had resurfaced in Wang Lin’s mind!

This divine ability was a savage technique, consuming the life force of all things and channeling it into a single, devastating strike. With a flick of his finger, life itself would unravel.

Wang Lin’s eyes flashed, and slowly, deliberately, he lowered his finger to the earth before him. The moment it made contact, black light erupted, forming a ring that expanded outward with relentless speed.

In moments, the dark essence had engulfed the land for a thousand li in every direction. Towering trees withered, their leaves crumbling to dust, their forms collapsing with a soft *puff* into a fine, grayish powder. Even the falling leaves vanished mid-descent, claimed by the darkness.

Only thick plumes of white mist remained, rising from the shattered remnants of the trees. The vapor, as if with a will of its own, converged upon Wang Lin.

Not just the trees, but the grasses and flowers, the insects and the beasts – all were extinguished by the encroaching darkness. Their life force, drawn out and purified, transformed into streams of white mist, all gravitating towards Wang Lin.

In mere moments, all life within a thousand li had been extinguished, its essence extracted.

From above, one would have witnessed a bizarre spectacle. A circle of utter desolation, within which tendrils of luminous white mist spiraled towards a single, unseen point, obscuring it from view.

The mist, saturated with pure life force, swirled and danced. Within its embrace, lightning flickered in Wang Lin’s eyes. Then, with a mighty inhalation, he drew it all in!

As he drew in a breath, the swirling life force surged towards him, rushing into his nostrils, his mouth, his every pore. The essence coalesced within his body, transforming into vibrant life energy, replenishing his own rapidly depleted stores.
With each stolen breath, the crimson rune upon Wang Lin’s breast pulsed, inching forth until three inches of its unholy form manifested. Yet, even then, tendrils of shimmering light danced upon its surface, a veil woven from his own fading vitality, to shroud and safeguard him.

Half a watch passed. The last wisp of ethereal white, drawn from the land itself, spiraled into Wang Lin’s waiting mouth. A thousand leagues lay desolate; the very earth cracked and parched, its lifeblood utterly drained.

An eerie contrast bloomed where the desolation ended, a vibrant world pressing against the lifeless expanse. Within and without, they were as twin faces of creation, one living, one dead.

“That ancestor of the Xiang clan practiced arts akin to this Finger of Oblivion. He, too, siphoned life to fuel his power. The fool underestimated me! He thought I could not see through his deceit!” A cruel smile twisted Wang Lin’s lips.

“My lifeblood, Wang Lin’s lifeblood, is not so easily devoured. The day will come when I reclaim it, with interest! To feast upon life…I, too, shall learn this dark art!”

A frigid glint ignited in Wang Lin’s eyes as he closed them. Instantly, the inky tendrils he had unleashed before, surged anew, ravenously expanding their dominion.

Two thousand leagues… three thousand… in a heartbeat, a five-thousand-league radius became their domain.

Grass withered, ancient trees toppled, and even the beasts of the wild could not escape the creeping shadows. A colossal serpent, a dozen spans in length, was overtaken mid-stride. The black tendrils pulsed over it, and where life had been, only dust remained. Its stolen essence, now a torrent of white mist, raced to feed its master.

The tide of darkness did not halt, but relentlessly spread. Six thousand leagues… eight thousand… ten thousand!

Within that vast radius, every living thing crumbled. The gathered essence of life transformed into a raging tempest, with Wang Lin at its silent, ravenous center!

The stolen vitality poured into Wang Lin through his seven apertures, fueling the crimson rune upon his chest. It emerged further, revealing a ten-inch span of its unholy form. With a sudden surge of power, Wang Lin ripped the rune free from his flesh.

As the rune left his body, a blinding light erupted, revealing an ancient, withered husk, a vessel of death itself.

But that vision was fleeting. The torrent of life surging into Wang Lin reversed the decay. His shriveled form glowed with renewed vigor, flesh plumped, and his eyes flared with a terrible, ancient power.

Across the gulf of countless star-leagues, far, far away, existed a semi-abandoned cultivation world, its spiritual energies weak and faltering.

Around this world, blades of light danced, each bearing a grim-faced cultivator, their eyes cold and watchful. They were encircled the dying planet, their divine senses probing the void around them.

A heavy air of foreboding hung over them.

Though their cultivations were merely of the nascent soul, they were hardened and grim. And as they scanned the skies for danger, fear gnawed at their hearts.

A streak of light erupted from the world, a sword of pure energy carrying an aging woman. Her face, though lined with the years, still held traces of the beauty she once possessed. Were Wang Lin to see her, he would recognize her.

Sorrow lined her brow. As she emerged, a waiting cultivator approached her. “Greetings, Aunt Bai Xue!”

The woman nodded, her gaze fixed on the distant stars. “Be vigilant. If you sense anything amiss, report it immediately. In these times of war, our Vermillion Bird Star is too close to the demonic cultivators of the Outer Domain, and our very existence hangs in the balance!”

She sighed, about to speak again, when her face twisted in alarm. Her eyes widened, focusing on a distant point in the void. Her change startled the other cultivators, who followed her gaze. Their faces drained of color, but a grim resolve settled upon them.

Far away, across the vast void, came a storm of lights. Hundreds of cultivators flew towards the Vermillion Bird Star, led by a towering, grotesque figure of a childlike form, his hands clasped behind his back. A foolish, vacant smile plastered across his face.