The wind screamed louder than any bell.
Above Pavilion Seventeen, the sky twisted unnaturally — not in thunder, but in pressure. A roiling cyclone of spiritual energy surged from the heavens, spiraling inwards toward one place.
Wang Lin.
Across the inner court, disciples gathered near rooftops and towers, eyes filled with panic and awe.
"That storm... it's not natural—"
"It's not a tribulation."
"No. It's him."
Inside the elder council chamber, silence reigned.
Then, finally, Elder Wun Tian stood.
"Activate the Inner Court Protocol."
One of the formation elders hesitated. "You mean... suppression?"
"No." Wun Tian's voice was cold. "I mean containment."
"He's still technically a disciple—"
"Not anymore," Wun Tian snapped. "He's become a convergence point. If we let him keep devouring spiritual flow at this rate, the entire eastern leyline will bend toward him permanently."
He turned to a formation master and raised two fingers.
"Send the inner court disciples."
The Inner Court was more than just core elites.
It was inheritance-level combatants. Cultivators one step from elder rank, trained not just in power, but obedience. They didn't ask questions.
And they didn't hesitate.
Within an hour, seven figures stood outside the shattered gates of Pavilion Seventeen.
Each wore black-robed combat uniforms, spiritual seals glowing across their arms.
A silence fell between them.
One of them — a tall man with golden eyes — narrowed his gaze.
"Orders are suppression only. Disable his connection to external Qi. Seal him. Deliver him to the containment ward."
Another disciple scoffed.
"Do we even know what he is anymore?"
The leader answered without blinking.
"No. That's why we're bringing him in alive."
They stepped into the clearing.
And stopped.
Because Wang Lin was already waiting.
Arms folded. Eyes closed.
A storm spiraling gently around him — centered like a monarch's throne made of air.
He opened his eyes when they crossed into the inner perimeter.
| "They're coordinated. Seven-fold formation. Their goal is delay, not death." |
"Then they're underestimating me."
| "Again." |
Wang Lin didn't move as the leader of the group stepped forward.
"Wang Lin."
"That's me."
"You're ordered to surrender your cultivation flow and submit to a full system scan. Refusal will be considered—"
Wang Lin raised a hand.
The man's body flinched before the sentence finished.
Void Pressure.
One wave.
Not even aggressive.
Just present.
The ground beneath the seven cracked.
One of them dropped to a knee immediately, gasping for air.
"What the hell—?!"
Wang Lin stepped forward.
"This isn't a battle," he said softly. "It's a warning."
The leader drew his blade.
And the fight began.
They attacked in a spiral — a tight formation designed to suppress elemental cultivators and spirit beasts.
But Wang Lin wasn't either of those anymore.
He sidestepped the first blade, caught the second with an open palm, twisted, and drove his elbow into the third disciple's ribs.
CRACK.
The sound echoed like thunder.
| "You're holding back." |
"They're still disciples."
| "They're also carrying soul-seals keyed to elder kill orders. They were never planning to take you alive." |
Wang Lin's eyes narrowed.
One of the disciples raised a talisman, glowing red.
A soulfire beacon.
Wang Lin vanished.
Appeared behind the man.
Snatched the talisman.
And crushed it.
"You should've run."
Void Pulse – Core Thread Sever.
He slammed his hand into the man's back.
No explosion.
Just silence.
The disciple collapsed, breath caught mid-scream — cultivation thread cut, spiritual core locked.
Not death.
But removal.
The other six backed away instantly.
"Fall back—!"
Too late.
Wang Lin leapt.
One.
Two.
Three.
Each strike landed like falling stars.
Controlled.
Precise.
Cruel.
And then only the leader remained.
His knees buckled.
He stared at Wang Lin — at the egg now hovering behind him like a second moon.
"What… what are you?"
Wang Lin didn't answer.
The egg pulsed once.
Violet veins across its shell glowed faintly.
| "Let them take that question back to the elders." |
Wang Lin stepped aside.
"You'll live," he told the last one. "Because I want them to know."
He looked up at the spinning storm overhead.
Then raised his hand—
And with a single pulse of will,
the storm collapsed inward.
Silence followed.
No wind.
No motion.
Just Wang Lin.
Alone in the center of seven broken elite disciples.
In the far distance, Elder Wun Tian shattered a jade disk in his hand.
"…Begin the Voidfall Protocol."