The ancient god-form, a towering behemoth hundreds of fathoms tall, rendered Wang Lin as a titan, a pillar supporting the very heavens. The Ancient God’s Cauldron, hovering around him, shimmered with ethereal light as he materialized before a swirling vortex of raw power.

This vortex defied destruction by brute force, a lesson etched in Wang Lin’s memory.

He stood defiant, starlight glinting in his eyes. Forgoing the protection of his Azure Light Shield, he braced himself, flesh against the tempest.

“Let us see,” he roared, his voice a thunderous echo, “if the might of this vortex can stand against the true form of an Ancient God!”

With a howl that ripped through the desolate landscape, the vortex accelerated, a blur of furious energy. In the blink of an eye, it crashed upon Wang Lin, engulfing him in its chaotic embrace. The impact was akin to being struck by a colossal wave, a tidal surge of unimaginable force.

Within that wave, a tempest raged, tearing at his flesh, threatening to rend him limb from limb and scatter his essence into the swirling winds. As the vortex consumed him, deafening explosions reverberated within his very being. Wang Lin staggered back, driven three paces by the sheer power.

In that instant, the Ancient God’s Cauldron flashed once more. His form vanished, reappearing a hundred fathoms distant, narrowly avoiding the assault of four more furious vortexes.

Wang Lin’s face was grim. He had tested the vortex, and now he knew the limits of his own flesh. He had calculated precisely how many of these devastating tempests his body could endure.

“An ordinary cultivator would be obliterated, their very soul torn asunder!” he muttered, his voice laced with awe and dread. “Even with the resilience of my Ancient God’s flesh, I felt pain. What sorcery fuels these winds?” Shadows danced in his eyes, and the tempestuous vortexes surged towards him once more.

Azure light erupted around him. The Azure Light Shield materialized, a shimmering barrier hundreds of fathoms wide, spinning around him like a celestial guardian.

“With the strength of my Ancient God flesh and the protection of the Azure Light Shield,” Wang Lin declared, “I should be able to withstand this assault!” He moved, a blur of motion, towards the oncoming tempest.

Three vortexes, the swiftest of their brethren, hurtled towards him, colliding with the Azure Light Shield in a deafening explosion of power. The shield flickered, strained to its very limit.

An unimaginable force slammed into Wang Lin, forcing him back. Nine more vortexes surged forward, adding their fury to the assault. They crashed against the Azure Light Shield, each impact echoing like the death knell of a world.

The Azure Light Shield held, but Wang Lin continued to retreat, pushed back relentlessly by the relentless onslaught. He retreated, and retreated, and retreated still, as the vortexes hammered against his defenses.

When the nine vortexes finally dissipated, Wang Lin had been driven back an immeasurable distance. Though his flesh was that of a five-star Ancient God, the constant barrage, even through the shield, had left him drenched in a cold sweat, his body screaming in agony.

But the ordeal was far from over. Ahead, fifteen more vortexes materialized, a chain of swirling destruction racing towards him.

Even with the aid of the Ancient God’s Cauldron, to attempt to evade would only be to delay the inevitable. The speed of these tempests would not allow him to cleave them asunder.

*BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!*

The earth trembled, the heavens themselves quaked as the fifteen vortexes struck the Azure Light Shield in near-simultaneous fury. They dissipated, unleashing a cataclysmic wave of power that hammered the shield, pressing it almost against Wang Lin’s very skin.

A shudder ran through his frame. A mouthful of blood welled in his throat, but he forced it down, refusing to yield. He was flung backward like a broken kite, soaring through the desolate sky.

Thousands of fathoms away, Wang Lin crashed to the ground, a maelstrom of dust and sand erupting around him. When the dust settled, a colossal crater marked his impact, a testament to the sheer force he had endured.

His ancient god-form diminished, he now stood as a mortal man, his face etched with a bitter smile. With a struggle, he rose, emerging from the crater.

He gazed upon the vast expanse of the black sand desert, drawing a deep breath, his eyes wide with lingering fear.

“A five-star Ancient God body… never before have I been so grievously wounded,” he murmured, his voice a raw whisper. “What manner of power lies within those vortexes? Their strength is beyond belief! Had they been allowed to coalesce and strike again, I would have been overwhelmed.” His face hardened, shadowed by grim realization. He, who could challenge even a nascent soul cultivator with the integration of his avatar and true form.

He had believed himself secure, save for the most powerful cultivators. He had thought his Ancient God body a bastion of invincibility.

But now, he felt the sting of vulnerability, the chilling breath of danger. Looking across the black sands, he felt transported back to the ancient godlands, a place where prudence was the only shield against a swift and brutal death.

“I have grown complacent. The increase in my cultivation, the melding of my avatar and true self… it has dulled my caution,” he hissed, clenching his fist. Caution flickered back into his eyes, a familiar glint he had not seen in far too long.

The ordeal in the black sand desert had reawakened the wariness, the meticulousness that had once defined him.

“This is the Immortal Emperor Qing Lin’s domain. Danger lurks in every shadow. There can be no complacency, no lapse in vigilance!” He drew another deep breath, his senses honed, but not fully unleashed, instead moving with utmost care.

His instincts whispered a grim truth. The appearance of the grey mist, while potentially a random occurrence, was more likely triggered by the careless expansion of his divine sense.

While he could withstand the initial onslaught, a chilling premonition resonated deep within him: should he extend his awareness again, it would not be the grey mist that emerged, but something far more sinister.

This instinct, honed over a millennium of cultivation, arose from his communion with the universe itself.

After a moment’s contemplation, a spark ignited in his eyes. He reached into his storage bag and withdrew the Soul-Devouring Banner. With a flick of the wrist, he unfurled the banner’s cloth. His left hand plunged within, emerging with a wailing soul clutched in its grasp.

The soul was a visage of tormented fury, its sentience long stripped away by the banner’s dark magic. It floated obediently at Wang Lin’s side, a phantom thrall. He sheathed the Soul-Devouring Banner and reached out with his right hand, touching the soul’s brow. He carefully imprinted a small fragment of his divine sense within the ethereal being.
Having done all this, he hesitated no more, his form blurring as he sped forth, towards what lay ahead. A mere incense stick’s time had passed when Wang Lin deemed himself far enough from the spectral remnant. He drew a deep breath, yet refrained from unfurling his divine sense, choosing instead to manipulate his spiritual thought!

Instantly, the wisp of divine awareness left upon the soul far behind dispersed, spreading outwards. But in that very instant, a premonition of intense peril flooded Wang Lin’s mind. Without a moment’s pause, he severed the fragile connection.

As the last thread of his divine link was cut, Wang Lin glimpsed, as though in a fleeting vision, the heavens roiling above the soul’s location. A beam of ashen light descended from the storm, striking the soul directly, obliterating it in a flash!

Cold sweat beaded upon Wang Lin’s brow, thankful for his foresight in severing the link so swiftly. His own presence had not stirred the forces of this desolate place. He stared towards the distant sky, a chill running down his spine. Though the strange grey light had vanished as quickly as it appeared, the sensation it left was heavier than the weight of a dozen swirling vortexes combined. Wang Lin turned, his steps taking him across the ebony wasteland. Time flowed, yet here there was no distinction between day and night. The sky remained perpetually grey, as if choked by a never-ending dust storm.

A month passed, and Wang Lin traversed a vast distance within this wasteland. During that month, he saw no one, not even a single living creature.

There was no flora here, only the endless expanse of barren black sand. Gazing upon it for too long, even the spirit seemed to grow bleak.

Wang Lin’s countenance was more somber than ever before. This place was akin to a prison, a dead end, slowly instilling despair, a hopelessness towards life itself.

Even immortals, beings far beyond mere mortals, would find their minds consumed by darkness if they lingered here too long. Their primordial spirit would be tainted, their nature turning wrathful, edging ever closer to demonic corruption.

For a demonic cultivator, this place would be a sanctuary, their power swelling. Yet in the end, their primordial spirit would be consumed by the demonic influence, reducing them to mindless fiends.

Wang Lin strode on, lost in thought, moving slowly forward. Thankfully, he had encountered no further signs of the ominous grey energy in the past month. Yet, in Wang Lin’s heart, the feeling of danger remained, growing stronger with each step he took.

Several times, Wang Lin had felt it distinctly – a faint ripple of divine sense brushing past, like wind whispering through the dunes. Yet, no matter how keenly he searched, he could not pinpoint the source of these spectral probes.

He dared not take to the sky. On one occasion during the month, he attempted to send a soul skyward, but when it rose above twenty feet, it collapsed without a sound, reduced to nothingness.

His boots crunching upon the sandy ground, Wang Lin’s expression grew ever more grim, a faint aura of darkness flickering across his face. Yet, his eyes remained clear, untouched by the encroaching shadows.

“I wonder how Situ fares…” he mused. “Situ treads a path close to the demonic. If he is also trapped within a place like this…” Wang Lin paused, lost in thought. He raised his hand to his face, and with a scraping gesture, drew forth strands of black energy that coiled and merged within his palm.

Gazing upon the dark miasma, Wang Lin detected within it a trace of the scattered demon he had once known. “Demonic energy…” Wang Lin’s eyes flashed, and he clenched his fist.

The dark wisp exploded, scattering outwards, engulfing a hundred feet around him before fading away. Wang Lin’s footfalls faltered, and he came to a halt, staring at the dissipating shadows, a glint of inspiration returning to his eyes.

“Perhaps…perhaps it can be used in this way…” Wang Lin murmured, before resuming his journey.

He knew not where he was going. In this boundless black sand desert, all directions seemed identical, blurring the cardinal points. Wang Lin could only continue onwards, seeking some way out of this forsaken realm.

Time continued its relentless flow, and another month passed. Wang Lin, who had now been confined to this place for two months, emanated a thick aura of darkness. Swathed in swirling shadows, he appeared gaunt and haggard, a veritable demon incarnate.

Yet he continued to walk onward, his steps slow and measured.

On this particular day, Wang Lin walked with his eyes closed, his expression unchanging save for a hint of grimness. But suddenly, from the distant reaches of the black sand waste, a faint pulse of divine sense swept over him, passing by with incredible speed.

“The ninth time…” Wang Lin muttered without breaking his stride. In these two months, this was the ninth time he had been scanned by a divine sense. What troubled Wang Lin was that each of these nine probes felt distinct from the others, indicating the presence of nine different individuals.

Three breaths later, the divine sense retreated, passing by Wang Lin again. Wang Lin remained impassive, as if completely unaware, continuing his trek.

“Not enough…” As the divine sense receded, Wang Lin looked into the distance, a flicker of determination in his eyes.

Wandering through the black sand desert, particularly without the cycle of sun and moon, it was easy to lose all sense of time. If Wang Lin had not long since grown accustomed to solitude and loneliness, he would surely have gone mad here.

Compared to the utter desolation of this place, even decades spent in meditation, or his hundred years within the Land of the Ancient God, paled in comparison. For Wang Lin, this loneliness was not much to bear. As he walked, his figure slowly disappeared into the distance, further and further away, his lonely back conveying the solitude in Wang Lin’s heart. Alone, in his own world, silently existing, silently walking onwards, with no end in sight.

A month, another month, and another… Wang Lin had traversed the black sand desert for half a year. For an ordinary cultivator, such a trial would be enough to drive them insane. This was not meditation, nor channeling of energy, but a continuous journey in a desolate land, bearing the weight of the entire world upon one’s shoulders.

But what was all this, for Wang Lin…?

In the black desert, far, far away, a wisp of divine sense swept by, brushing past Wang Lin. In that instant, Wang Lin abruptly raised his head, a cold light in his eyes.

“The thirty-second time… my demonic energy is also sufficient!”

At this moment, Wang Lin was surrounded by swirling mist, a torrent of demonic energy surging around him, like a black flame blazing in the desert.

The divine sense swept past, disappearing far behind Wang Lin.
A breath later, the thirty-second tendril of divine sense contracted with unnatural speed, yet as it neared Wang Lin, the demonic flames that cloaked him erupted in a cataclysmic burst!

For half a year, he had waited, accumulated, observed! In that time, Wang Lin had silently coaxed the naturally occurring demonic energies of this forsaken place, patiently gathering them whilst ever vigilant lest they taint his nascent soul. Now, at this crucial juncture, all of it was unleashed.

The infernal blaze surged skyward, a ravenous tide of darkness yearning to devour the heavens. It coalesced in the air, forming a colossal, spectral demon, which lunged to engulf the retreating tendril of divine awareness!

At the instant of contact, a fragment of the divine essence was consumed by the unholy fire. A chilling emptiness pierced Wang Lin’s being, carried upon the insidious currents of demonic power.

The remaining portion of the tendril recoiled, desperately escaping the demonic conflagration.

In the heart of the swirling black mist, Wang Lin’s eyes gleamed with frigid resolve. Half a year of careful preparation had led to this moment, and the plan unfolded precisely as envisioned.

With arms outstretched, he unleashed a guttural roar, pent up for what felt like an eternity!

In that instant, the swirling black mists, the very essence of demonic energy, were expelled outward like a raging tempest. As the shadows departed, Wang Lin stood revealed, the mask of normalcy cast aside, exposing his true form after a half-year of concealment.

Any soul familiar with Wang Lin would have gasped in shock at what stood before them.

His raiment remained unchanged, yet his once-vibrant hair was now like the void itself, a cascade of ink swirling even in the still air. His face was gaunt, his features deeply hollowed, as though he were naught but skin clinging to bone.

Dark veins pulsed beneath the skin around his sunken eyes, a gruesome tapestry that transformed him from a cultivator into something far more sinister – a demon incarnate.

A palpable aura of malice clung to him, irrevocably altering his very essence.

Were he to rely solely on the natural accrual of demonic energies, he would never have achieved this transformation. To amass such a potent force would require decades of ceaseless inhalation within this desolate realm.

But Wang Lin was no paragon of righteous cultivation. His millennium-long journey had been a dance between light and shadow, a precarious balance of virtue and vice. The “Demon Transformation Finger” was the key, a forbidden technique that plunged him into a momentary embrace of pure demonic energy.

By wielding this extreme power, he sought to execute an unparalleled feat.

With arms spread wide, a feral glint ignited within Wang Lin’s eyes. Above him, the collected demonic energy spiraled furiously, expanding outwards.

As the elusive tendril of divine sense teetered on the brink of escape, Wang Lin unleashed a deafening bellow!

At his command, the boundless demonic energies fragmented like the shattered remnants of a fallen star, exploding outwards in a shockwave, mimicking the unleashed ball of demonic energy from half a year prior.

The speed of this expansion was awe-inspiring. The skies twisted and roiled, the demonic aura swiftly engulfing an area spanning hundreds of thousands of leagues, ensnaring the fleeing tendril within its tendrils.

But this was merely the second step in Wang Lin’s intricate scheme; the third, and most vital, remained.

As the demonic energy surged, Wang Lin slammed his right foot upon the parched earth. The ground buckled and cracked, forming a gaping chasm. Like a bolt of lightning, Wang Lin himself shot forward with unimaginable speed, hurtling towards the source of the divine sense!

Dark veins pulsed in frenzied patterns upon his face, as demonic energies poured from his core. With a swift hand seal, he unleashed the Demon Transformation Finger, pointing it directly at the sky!

By channeling the transformative power, he manipulated the volatile demonic energies above, slowing their dissipation. His body became the anchor, ensuring he remained within the vortex of their malevolent embrace as he sped onward.

His mind was a crucible of clarity, understanding the dire immediacy of the situation. Each breath brought a fresh dissipation of the demonic energies that sustained him. If he failed to locate the source of the divine sense before the aura vanished completely, his half-year of preparation would be for naught.

He moved with a velocity surpassing anything he had ever achieved, becoming a shooting star propelled by vengeance, hurtling towards the elusive source of the opposing divine will.

From the heavens above, a magnificent, terrible sight would unfold. A ring of pure demonic energy, spanning hundreds of thousands of leagues, advanced with frightening speed, a circle of ravenous darkness against the ochre landscape. Within, a fleeting shadow, barely discernible, flashed amidst the haze.

In this desolate wasteland, the omnipresent scrutiny of the divine sense was the key to escape. Yet, Wang Lin knew he could not retaliate with his own divine sense, not while here. While he did not know what made the enemy’s probing different, Wang Lin dared not take the risk of trying it himself.

He could only endure, could only wait. He had not the luxury of waiting decades. His fate, and potentially the fate of those he cared for, hung in the balance.

Half a year ago, a sliver of demonic energy had manifested within his own body. When he shattered it, it enveloped an area of merely a hundred feet. But within that radius, Wang Lin had sensed a profound emptiness.

It was within that emptiness that he discovered an opening, a glimmer of understanding. Tentatively, he extended his own divine sense, and it spread freely within that hundred-foot radius, undisturbed.

This discovery became a key, unlocking a door that had seemingly been sealed shut.

To accumulate the necessary demonic energy, Wang Lin had relentlessly practiced the Demon Transformation Finger, countless times each day, absorbing the essence of darkness with the voracity of a true demon.

Thus, he had amassed the power to execute this audacious plan. But the price was steep. Beyond the unsettling transformation of his physical form, the ceaseless consumption of demonic energies had taken root, a sinister whisper of demonic influence in his mind.
With a surge of arcane power, he darted forth, his spirit-sense unfurling like a vast, unseen net across tens of thousands of leagues. As the demonic mists thinned, his probing tendrils contracted, drawing ever closer to their quarry.

Within the shroud of those dark vapors, his spirit-sense had roamed without triggering any untoward event. Yet, Wang Lin knew in his heart that should he stray too far beyond their protection, into the desolate expanse of the Black Sands Desert, a swift and terrible reckoning would befall him.

The memory of that ashen beam, plummeting from the heavens during his earlier experiment, remained branded upon his mind.

Now, he pressed onward with haste, his focus unwavering, his spirit-sense tightening its grip upon the fugitive before him. Though he commanded the demon-breath with the Art of Demonic Transformation, it was proving increasingly difficult to control. With each passing breath, its power diminished, now less than half of its original potency.

“Faster!” Wang Lin gritted his teeth, the wordless command echoing in his soul.

Ahead, the fleeing wisp of consciousness faltered, ceasing its frantic flight. Instead, it ascended with unnerving speed towards the unforgiving sky.

“Severed!” Wang Lin’s eyes flickered with understanding. He had foreseen this desperate gambit. The quarry would sacrifice a sliver of its being to conceal its true location.

The moment the connection was broken, Wang Lin coughed a torrent of blood. The crimson ichor erupted in a blinding flash, and he plunged headlong into its heart, transforming into a streak of bloody light, shooting forward.

Blood Escape!

A forbidden art, the Blood Escape demanded a heavy toll. It was a pact with one’s own mortality, trading life force for a burst of unparalleled speed. He had refrained from using it against the vortex months ago, for that tempestuous wind had grown stronger with each passing moment, fueled by the ethereal dust it devoured. The Blood Escape offered only fleeting velocity, insufficient to outpace such an inexorable force.

In a blink, Wang Lin’s speed multiplied tenfold. Ignoring the severed connection, he maintained his course, pushing through the shrinking veil of demonic mist, relentlessly pursuing the faintest echo of the lost thread.

In the far distance, a colossal shadow began to emerge upon the edge of his vision. The chase was nearing its end.