Volume One: The Hidden Dragon in the Abyss Chapter 1: The Way of Martial Arts

“Heaven’s gaze is as my people’s gaze, heaven’s hearing as my people’s hearing…”

The sky was draped in misty rain like a painting. The capital of Wei had been washed by a night’s rainfall, which ceased in the early morning. Soon after, the Imperial Academy within the palace walls was filled with the clear voices of young scholars reciting their texts.

When the group of youths finished their reading, the instructor, a man with a goatee, casually turned a page on the desk and posed a question:

“In the second year of Yanning, on the first month of spring, Wu Prefecture of Wei suffered a rare famine. Not a drop of rain fell for months, and hunger spread. If you were in charge, how would you handle this disaster?”

Most of those present were sons and daughters of nobility, sent to study at the Royal Academy—a place once trodden by the current emperor and the crown prince themselves.

The curriculum focused on self-cultivation, managing the household, governing the state, and ruling the populace. Naturally, those who could teach here were no ordinary men, so all the young nobles sat upright, respectful and earnest.

The instructor called out a name: “Wang Chuan, your answer.”

A tall youth stood up, his stance a bit unsteady, eyes heavy with sleep, barely awake.

He was, at best, half a son of Wei, for he was actually the crown prince of Jin, living alone in the Wei capital.

Wei and Jin were bound by marriage, vowing a century of friendship. Wang Chuan’s mother was the sister of Wei’s king, the eldest princess, married far away to become empress of Jin. Later, she was chosen by the Academy of Divine Seals for cultivation…

But Wang Chuan’s current situation was awkward. After Jin seized sixteen cities in Yan Prefecture from Wei, this crown prince, still residing here, had become a true hostage.

The alliance between the two states had become as fragile as paper.

Wang Chuan rubbed his sleepy eyes, struggling to stay alert as he answered, “Then let them have enough to eat.”

“They already have no food left,” the instructor replied.

“Then why not eat meat?” Wang Chuan asked with earnest seriousness.

Laughter erupted in the classroom, the air suddenly light with amusement.

Outside, two youths in tight archers’ garb paused at the sound, frowning as they glanced inside.

The girl had fine brows, large eyes, and a handsome face, her bearing spirited and bright. Her belt was cinched tightly, emphasizing a youthful, taut figure, exuding brisk confidence.

The students within knew her as Qiu Ziling, daughter of Marquis Yang’an—a heroine among men. Though young, she’d already served three years in the army and slain over a hundred foes.

“This crown prince of Jin—does he feign stupidity, or is he truly so? He’d best not make a fool of himself,” she said, eyes fixed on Wang Chuan inside, as if trying to see through him.

She too had studied at the academy since childhood but rarely interacted with Wang Chuan, who was notorious for skipping classes. Her impression of him was utterly unremarkable.

If not for his title, he’d barely be noticed at all.

In the past, when the two states were friendly, everyone vied to befriend the neighboring prince. Now, the tides had turned; isolation replaced camaraderie—a stark lesson in the fickleness of fate.

“It hardly matters now. He has no better solution—pitiful, really. A young dragon stranded in the shallows,” said the plump youth beside her, mopping his brow. “There are rumors in court that the prince may be held as a bargaining chip to reclaim the sixteen towns of Yan Prefecture.”

“That’s impossible,” Qiu Ziling shook her head.

Even she could see it: the emperor of Jin was a ruler of great ambition, intent on unifying the realm. Having taken Yan Prefecture by force, he would never return it, nor spare a thought for his legitimate son far off in another land.

A hostage, after all, is but a sacrifice.

Had the crown prince not been left in Wei, the kingdom would never have trusted enough to lend troops and passage north to resist the Xiongnu—yet, they lost Yan Prefecture in the end.

The plump youth smiled, understanding her point.

He continued, “The Empress Dowager’s birthday banquet—there will be a grand feast in the palace. Nearly all members of the royal clan are invited. The crown prince of Jin attended in previous years, but this time, his name is absent. A bad sign—his situation will only grow more precarious. But enough of this. I hear you’ve advanced another rank in martial arts since returning—congratulations…”

In the classroom, the instructor raised his ruler high.

Wang Chuan obediently stretched out his hand, trembling with fear.

The sight only deepened the students’ disdain.

Here, the ruler fell on princes and commoners alike. The right to discipline had been granted by the emperor himself.

The old scholars here were nothing if not upright.

It was this strict academic tradition that had shaped generations of capable monarchs.

Wang Chuan often wondered if the emperor himself had been beaten to tears as a boy, and so allowed his instructors to vent their frustrations on the next generation…

“Those who eat meat are ignorant, those who eat meat are ignorant, those who eat meat are ignorant…”

Yet, the ruler did not fall. The instructor, raising his hand to pat Wang Chuan’s head as he often had in the boy’s youth, stopped short.

He used to encourage the young prince this way, but at some point had ceased the gesture. It struck him now: he had, in truth, already given up.

Moreover, the youth before him now stood taller than he, nearly of age, yet stranded in a foreign land.

“I will never strike you again,” the instructor sighed deeply, and then again.

“Your mother was a woman of extraordinary talent, who propped up a crumbling house and turned back the tide… Before His Majesty ascended the throne, the realm was beset with inner and outer turmoil. It was the eldest princess who purged traitors, upheld the rightful heir, and married far away to Jin, borrowing their soldiers to drive back the barbarians. Later, with her unmatched gifts, she entered the Academy of Martial Arts for cultivation…”

The class grew solemn, sitting upright.

The eldest princess—a figure none in Wei could forget, a prodigy of the age, and later connected with the Martial Academy.

The Martial Academy stood above all, untouched by worldly affairs, devoted to cultivation. There were those who could cleave mountains, shift seas, and, it was said, achieve immortality.

It was a sacred place, revered by all who pursued the way.

Legends told of martial artists on higher planes who could shatter the void, move mountains, pluck the sun and moon, destroy the very heavens, leaving behind countless myths.

The instructor sighed inwardly.

Yet, everyone knew—the eldest princess had vanished without a trace. Rumors and speculations abounded…

Had she remained, Wang Chuan’s situation would never have been so awkward.

In time, those driven by ambition and wealth would care little for his parentage or his mother’s exploits. To them, the crown prince of Jin was merely an opportunity—a chance to impress the emperor.

“Sir, please punish me. I promise to study hard from now on,” Wang Chuan said, his heart stirred. Whenever his mother was mentioned, guilt welled up in his eyes.

The instructor looked at him, shook his head gently, and bade him take care.

He felt a strange hesitance today and, before realizing it, the lesson had ended.

The second class began soon after.

Perhaps to fulfill his earlier vow, Wang Chuan listened intently, respectful and focused.

But at some point, someone noticed he had dozed off again. Used to it, they shifted their gaze and continued listening.

A hopeless case.

Martial Arts

The instructor, who taught cultivation at the Royal Academy, was himself a master.

With a flick of his wrist, true energy appeared, rippling like water across a lake’s surface, flowing smoothly and without pause, graceful as drifting clouds.

In the air, two golden characters formed, glowing and solid.

The instructor soon noticed Wang Chuan asleep again, but paid it no mind.

The eldest princess had been a genius. When her son was born, both Wei and Jin sent people to examine him. Even the Martial Academy dispatched envoys.

They were all disappointed.

All agreed: this child’s achievements would be limited.

He was of average aptitude, his spiritual roots unremarkable, his talent ordinary. With effort, he might slightly surpass the common man.

Genius, after all, is decided at birth.

So, each time the instructor taught, he let Wang Chuan be, devoting his time instead to nurturing the truly gifted—the real hope and future of Wei.

“As you know, the path of cultivation begins with the human body.

“The body has twelve meridians and eight extraordinary vessels, connecting the vital organs and enabling the circulation of true energy according to the twelve hours, forming the natural cycle. Martial cultivation is built upon this foundation.

“Across the continent, myriad disciplines flourish, myriad powers contend. But all rivers flow to the sea—martial arts reign supreme…

“To swallow the world’s essence, transform oneself, and master the martial way—such is to become a martial artist.

“And in this world, those who wield the greatest power are the martial artists!

“Martial artists perceive the changes of the Dao, push the limits of the seasons. It is said the martial way leads to divinity, shattering eternity itself. To live as long as heaven and earth, to shine with the sun and moon, to possess strength to cover the sky and seize the stars.

“… …”

“You are not unfit for cultivation. You are simply unsuited to ordinary techniques!”

Years ago, someone had said this to him. At that time, Wang Chuan had been a martial artist in the era of spiritual awakening on Earth.

That person had later trained him to become a supreme master of martial arts, unmatched in all the world!

The path of martial arts began with body refinement, opening the meridians, cultivating energy, and tempering the soul…

Others thought Wang Chuan’s talent was poor, his martial veins blocked.

But he had long since discovered the truth: he possessed a divine martial vein—one nearly impossible to awaken in this world.

For centuries, even the rarest heavenly veins were almost unheard of, let alone a divine one.

His mother’s extraordinary gifts came from awakening such a heavenly martial vein.

The higher the quality of the martial vein, the harder it was to awaken. But once awakened, progress would be meteoric.

Those who examined him as a child, including instructors from the Martial Academy, were of too low a level to understand.

Only those of true insight at the Academy would recognize Wang Chuan’s incredible potential—if nurtured, he could become a martial sovereign rivaled only once in a millennium.

The classroom was quiet; the sunset was beautiful, and the other students had slipped away unnoticed.

He rose and left in silence.

In his previous life, he had already been the foremost young martial artist of his era.

After a thousand years of cultivation, he had achieved the pinnacle of martial arts, invincible in his time!

In this life, he would do even better, grow even stronger!

Leaning back in his carriage, Wang Chuan rested briefly.

Yet this continent—where six kingdoms had vied for a century—was unfamiliar to him.

But that was to be expected. In the vast cosmos, among countless worlds, the odds of being reborn in a place he had known before were infinitesimal. He remembered only that, at the end, he too was swept into the cycle of epochs—perhaps, in that final moment, time had turned back…

He recalled one of his former lives, when he had seen a film, “The Night the Comet Came,” about parallel worlds, coexisting side by side. One day, those worlds overlapped, and people met through twisted space and time…

“No matter what, it’s enough that I’m alive…”

He shook his head, casting off stray thoughts.

He had always known what must be done—both in the future, and in the present.

His mind remained unyieldingly resolute.