Volume One: Hidden Dragon in the Abyss Chapter 127: Powerful

In every direction, thick demonic energy pressed in like an endless, surging ocean. Wang Chuan felt more like an ordinary man struggling to break free, facing a situation defined by despair and helplessness. His peerless power seemed impossible to exert here.

Suddenly, Wang Chuan’s body shuddered. He channeled his inner arts, and fierce, roaring flames erupted from his body. They coalesced into a massive furnace, within which gods and demons seemed to hide. Like a great sun rising over a vast sea, his entire being blazed with radiant light. The potent vital energy behind him transformed into a scorching brilliance, devouring the surrounding demonic mist like a wildfire.

His figure began to rise, hovering higher and higher. The majestic energy surged beneath his feet, lifting him up. A series of thunderous sounds echoed within his body, as if something had burst open, and the cycle of Yin and Yang began to revolve of its own accord. His aura suddenly turned incredibly violent; his vital energy became vast, divine, and capable of consuming the darkness.

This intense light illuminated the boundless space. Wang Chuan could perceive regions even further and more expansive—a realm of deathly silence, devoid of all life. Yet, as he drove the darkness away with his light, the shadows in the distance seemed to grow even thicker. Beyond the reach of his sacred radiance, nothing could be seen. It was as if he were pushing aside the water at the center of a sea, only for it to gather and become denser and more suffocating at the edges.

The darkness was heavy. As Wang Chuan peered into this space, he realized it was seemingly endless; he had no idea where he was or how to return. Faintly, he sensed someone waving at him from a great distance, as if calling his name.

*Boom.*

Wang Chuan’s barrier of light, now materialized, shuddered violently as if struck by something colossal. The darkness he had pushed aside began to surge back, pressing in relentlessly. Wang Chuan’s expression grew grave; he felt the pressure mounting. Yet, no matter the circumstances, nothing could shake his resolve. His will remained unyielding.

He flew toward the direction where he sensed a presence—if not a human, then at least a living entity. Wang Chuan pointed a finger, and something in the darkness flickered like a ghost before fading away, retreating back into the gloom. Even his barrier struggled to push forward; where it met the darkness, it emitted the sound of clashing iron, the two forces locked in a fierce struggle like two bulls locking horns.

Wang Chuan’s expression deepened. Looking ahead, he saw shadows creeping, shifting, and changing within the dark. Yet, everything before him felt like a mirage, impossible to reach. Just as he was about to retract his power, a voice resonated, causing his entire body to tremble in utter astonishment.

"Why does a living man enter a tomb?"

As the words echoed, Wang Chuan felt the surrounding flora wither, their leaves decaying into spring soil, though the vision vanished as quickly as a flickering light. He could not discern the nature of the ground beneath his feet.

"Who are you?" Wang Chuan asked. "And what is this place?"

"Young man, if you are alive, why have you come to the resting place of the dead?" The voice spoke again. He could not tell where it originated, nor could he find any trace of the speaker. *Such an entity exists here? Is this a graveyard?*

Wang Chuan exerted his divine sense to probe deeper, but the resistance grew stronger, like walking through fire and bitter frost, his spirit constantly on the verge of being extinguished. Moreover, the pervasive demonic energy, with its stagnant, hollow vibration, suddenly felt hauntingly familiar.

He finally realized the truth. *Deathly aura!* The most potent force here was the aura of death, and it was no ordinary kind. It was the residue of fallen supreme beings, dissolved into heaven and earth, becoming one with the world itself. That was why he had not sensed it until now.

"Come out," the voice commanded.

In an instant, Wang Chuan found the world flooded with light. A mighty river flowed, and he was drifting upon its surface, carried by the current. Looking around, he could vaguely see shadows still shifting in the darkness, accompanied by eerie, chilling whispers that made his skin crawl. Yet, Wang Chuan remained expressionless, unshaken.

His body felt light, drifting like a feather. With a gentle tap of his feet, he sped forward. His posture grew more imposing, like a giant standing between heaven and earth, steady and unshakable. He moved with the current, completely unaffected. In a trance, thousands of mountains and rivers flashed past. He rushed forward at lightning speed, crossing countless miles and mountain ranges without a hint of fatigue.

Every river has a source and an end. Wang Chuan felt the space widening, the light growing more intense, until finally, he saw signs of other life: towering statues of giants, emitting divine light like torches.

He had reached his destination. After some deduction, he was shocked—even after all these years, many living demon gods remained here. Images flashed before his eyes: mountain-sized divine beasts battling demons in the dark, tearing the earth apart; ancient, colossal creatures roaming the land. Most were likely gone, but the demon gods left remnants behind.

In this world, Wang Chuan saw a myriad of strange, bizarre creatures. When he first restrained his aura, he appeared as an ordinary human, drawing their curiosity and probing. Later, when he let his own demonic and baleful energy overflow, no one dared to glance his way again. Everyone went about their business in peace.

*Is this the true Demon Realm?* Wang Chuan wondered. If so, he knew how to return. But who was the one who had guided him here?

Here, he saw something entirely different—a world of myth, a world of epics. Long-forgotten memories flooded back. Suddenly, he stopped. The beings in front of him simultaneously parted to both sides. The atmosphere grew silent and stifling, as if even breathing had ceased.

A massive army was marching toward the horizon. These beings were hulking and powerful, yet grotesque in form, some round, some square. At first glance, Wang Chuan recognized them as true demon soldiers—the legendary warriors who once dominated the realms and stood toe-to-toe with the Divine Race, striking terror into the hearts of all.

Each of them surged with demonic energy that reached the heavens. Yet, their faces were ashen, their fangs protruded, and their eyes were hollow. Despite the terrifying power of their auras, these god-like beings were clearly corpses. They marched in perfect, rhythmic, and powerful unison. It was as if ghosts were wandering the lands they once walked in life, lingering on due to an undying obsession.

Wang Chuan sighed. Even as mere remnants of souls, they were still this powerful; few in the mortal realm could possibly stand against them.

"You are of the human race, yet you enter a tomb; you are an outsider, yet you come to the Demon Realm," the voice echoed again. "God and demon as one—to think someone has actually achieved this. Who are you?"

Recognizing the voice of the one he had been seeking, Wang Chuan turned and asked, "I am Wang Chuan. And who are you?"