Volume One: The Hidden Dragon in the Abyss Chapter 45: The Grandmaster

Continuing onward, Wang Chuan saw a broken stone tablet standing on the scorched earth, its inscription blurred with age. He reached out and gently pressed his hand against it, feeling the passage of years, as if tracing back through time to the ancient era.

Behind the tablet, a long spear with dark, archaic patterns was embedded in the ground, only its shaft exposed to waist height. A faint aura of spiritual energy still emanated from it. Ordinary weapons could never produce such effects; this was at least a spiritual artifact, a treasured divine weapon.

It would serve, even if only for the time being.

With his mind made up, Wang Chuan stepped forward, grasped the spear, and pulled it free with ease.

A surge of powerful energy shot skyward, displacing earth and trees, overwhelming in its grandeur. This was indeed a divine weapon, perhaps once even a sacred relic. Wang Chuan swung it lightly, feeling the flow of its aura. With just a touch of true energy, the fierce, dominant presence threatened to erupt forth.

Dormant for so many years, this sacred weapon was terrifying.

Several miles away, scattered demon clan disciples noticed the commotion ahead. Their eyes flickered, and they rushed over without hesitation. Within a dozen heartbeats, they had surrounded him.

Wang Chuan looked up, sizing up these so-called demons.

They were all tall and robust, some towering ten feet high, their bodies human in shape, though their faces were grotesque, yet still distinguishable in features. They resembled a group of burly men, their skin pitted and uneven, hideous beyond compare.

Even children would sense these were not good people. Moreover, they wielded crude, violent weapons and bore fierce, menacing expressions, charging at Wang Chuan with ferocity, uttering guttural cries.

Not only were they ugly, but they reeked, as if neglecting personal hygiene, more beast than man. As they drew near, a dreadful stench permeated the air.

Wang Chuan felt a surge of disgust. With a sweep and thrust of his spear, the demon clan were thrown outward by its wild power.

Those struck scrambled up, howling in pain and terror, rolling and crawling to escape.

He had not held back.

It seemed their skin and bones possessed astonishing resilience. No wonder in antiquity, the demon clan was among the most powerful races. Once they awakened their intelligence, mastered cultivation, and learned to command the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, they would reach a truly formidable state.

These must be low-tier demons.

Watching them flee, Wang Chuan decided not to hinder them, then quietly followed from a distance.

The demon clan had studied the Demon God’s Legacy so extensively; they must be the most knowledgeable force here. He intended to use this to his advantage.

He tracked them to a patch of wild forest. In the distance, more demons gathered, forming a crowd.

He had already noticed that communication techniques from the outside seemed ineffective here, yet these demons appeared to have their own means of contact.

That could prove troublesome.

Suddenly, a fierce wind rose, as if a blazing sun ascended and a tidal wave of heat surged forward, overwhelming like the ocean. The powerful aura swept over, inescapable for ordinary folk.

Wang Chuan was moved. His true energy soared, stirring the heavens.

He watched the approaching sun, wave-like and vast, yet stood unshaken, a pillar amidst the flood.

A tall elder rushed forward, landing before Wang Chuan. Dressed in black robes, he radiated an imposing presence, as though fused with the world itself.

Dark demonic energy swirled, blending seamlessly.

“Transference and projection?” Wang Chuan shook his head slightly. The man’s powers had reached such heights.

“No wonder you’re Wang Chuan—you saw through it,” the other replied.

As he spoke, the aura around his form abruptly withdrew, and the illusion faded, leaving only the projection behind.

Wang Chuan recalled the sight above Fucheng; the world believed that entrance to the Demon God’s Legacy lay there, but it was only a projection.

“Who are you, and how do you know my name?” Wang Chuan’s brow furrowed.

He instinctively tried to divine the truth, but something blocked his insight.

This adversary was truly formidable.

Wang Chuan grew solemn.

“The Master of the Holy Demon Sect—they call me Void Saint,” said the elder. “We have always watched the mortal world.”

“Void Saint? Someone dares claim the title of saint?” Wang Chuan sneered, though without mockery.

All martial artists aspire to become gods or saints.

The divine rank far surpassed ordinary martial artists, capable of facing thousands alone—not mere myth.

Saints—only saints.

After transcending the divine, one enters the saintly realm, utterly surpassing mortals, wielding unimaginable power, the greatest beings under heaven. Against them, numbers mean nothing.

In ancient times, saints vanquished celestial gods and slaughtered demons from beyond, ushering in the endless glory of the human race.

Humanity stood unshaken through the ages only because of such saints.

It is said that in lands beyond the world, some factions and sects count their history in ten thousand years. Their foundations are deep beyond imagination, with palatial halls and treasures that seem to rival heaven itself.

For example, the revered Martial Academy.

Within the demon clan, the Holy Demon Sect boasts a similarly profound legacy.

This figure was undoubtedly a titan among the demons.

Wang Chuan could not take him lightly.

If demon clan members were present, they would know this sect master was ruthless and murderous, rarely seen in recent times, but rumored to possess earth-shattering power.

“You want to kill me?” Wang Chuan asked.

“No wonder you’re Wang Chuan—you already sensed it,” Void Saint nodded. “By saintly decree, kill without mercy!”

“Saintly decree? Who commands you? Who has that right?” Wang Chuan wondered.

His knowledge of the demon clan was limited; he did not know which great figure this could be.

But this was the strongest foe since his rebirth.

“Matters of my clan cannot be revealed to you,” Void Saint shook his head.

Wang Chuan watched the elder stand with robes billowing, hands clasped behind his back, his doubts deepening.

“Never mind, whoever it is, they’ll regret provoking me,” Wang Chuan declared.

Void Saint laughed heartily. “Such steadfast resolve! You haven’t disappointed me, Wang Chuan. Youthful arrogance, vigor, and ambition—only with such sharpness can one ascend higher. All of us in pursuit of martial arts once lacked humility; without such wildness and ambition, how could we chase greater understanding of martial arts and the principles of heaven and earth? The road of martial arts is long…”

“Wang Chuan, do you know which book I enjoyed most when reading your human literature?” He suddenly looked up at the sky, his gaze deep and distant, as if peering through layers to glimpse the prosperity and brilliance of human civilization. “Alas, without youthful arrogance and confidence, higher achievements are hard to reach. Yet the more one comprehends, the more one realizes the vastness of the universe and the variety of its wonders, and comes to know one's own insignificance. The boundless martial path is an endless sea of suffering, a mountain road without end. To conquer it with human strength—how can it be done? At this stage, confidence and arrogance no longer drive the pursuit of martial arts. Only the ambition to glimpse the mysteries of the cosmos, to walk shoulder to shoulder with heaven, remains as the sole motivation. Wang Chuan, seeing you reminds me—what, then, is your motivation?”

“Human strength will always reach its limits. To pursue the mysteries of the universe despite our insignificance is painful and helpless, yet alluring. Like Kua Fu chasing the sun, or the Foolish Old Man moving mountains, some find joy and satisfaction in it, while others risk death without regret. Some die pursuing their ideals, and perhaps they die without regret,” Wang Chuan mused. “Meeting you today, I believe perhaps one should walk the path of moderation!”

“Indeed, to drive the martial path with moderation—that has always been my aim. Gains and losses, neither too joyous nor too sorrowful,” Void Saint said thoughtfully, pleased. “You truly are Wang Chuan; with others, such discussions would be tasteless.”

“Neither partial nor biased, calm and steady, the way of moderation,” Wang Chuan sighed softly. “Perhaps we will sit and discuss the Dao another time. You are truly a titan among the demons. Is that all you came for today? I had intended to kill you, but there is no personal grievance between us.”

He finished speaking, his face troubled.

Should he kill this man or not?

He asked, hoping to gauge the other’s attitude.

“Wang Chuan, you are so arrogant! When I made my name, you were nowhere to be found,” Void Saint glanced into the distance, a cold, mocking smile on his lips. “Enough. Let me see, then, what sets apart the genius our clan is determined to destroy.”

“Where is the demon clan now?” Wang Chuan asked curiously.

“You’ll know in time. Our clan is striving to open the passage, all to return to the mortal realm, to ascend the myriad worlds,” Void Saint replied.

“The myriad worlds…” Wang Chuan gazed far away. “But everyone has been trapped in the Divine Land for so many years, rooted in that continent. What have the myriad worlds become?”

“So many years, and finally I have a chance to exert myself fully. Without facing death, how can one comprehend and break through the great tribulation of life and death? I have never faced mortal peril; no one has pushed me to this point in this life!”

Wang Chuan laughed, letting out a long, wild cry that swept away years of frustration.

Only in the face of life and death can one force out the body's greatest potential!

Martial artists have always fought for life, not for fame.

Among the grandmasters, those who wish to become gods or saints—how many possess the courage for rebirth through Nirvana?

How many have truly faced death? How can they speak of breaking through the tribulation of life and death?

“We seekers of the Dao, if we hear the truth in the morning, we can die in the evening. To pursue virtue and attain virtue—if I die here today, and my legend vanishes from the world, if all forget Wang Chuan—what does it matter?” Wang Chuan’s resolve was unwavering. “In the end, I live for myself!”

He finished, his figure becoming dreamlike and illusory, spinning like a silken ribbon.

He leapt upward, locking onto the other’s aura, chasing it through the light.

In that moment, he unleashed his entire aura, feeling unrestrained, like a fish leaping into the vast sea.

His form seemed ghostly, vanishing without a trace.

The demons below saw only a fleeting shadow; looking again, Wang Chuan was gone.

He pursued Void Saint’s aura, who tried to break contact several times, only for Wang Chuan to lock onto him each time.

Though they had yet to meet face to face, they had already exchanged blows several times.

“I too wish to test the greatest genius of the human race—the number one prodigy.”

Through this encounter, he could finally understand why the demon clan’s sages valued Wang Chuan so highly.

Let me see what makes him extraordinary.

Void Saint waited, conserving his strength for the coming duel.

Within a few breaths, Wang Chuan had already caught up, his speed astonishing.

Void Saint seized the opportunity, waving his hand to conjure massive currents of force, forming a giant palm, as large as a house.

All around, black energy swirled, stirring extreme emotions. Suddenly, the nearby demons felt their moods shift wildly—one moment joyful, the next sorrowful, then furious.

Their minds were no longer their own, unable to find calm or circulate their power.

Wang Chuan too felt the giant palm descending, trapping him, his emotions in turmoil, unable to steady his mind.

“This is the Great Heavenly Demon Palm, rooted in the myriad emotions and desires. Unless one has cultivated to the sacred realm—undying and pure in mind, untouched by influence—one will suffer immense harm.”

This demon clan’s supreme power, once unleashed, brought a chill wind and demonic aura, the air filled with howls and wails.

“Blossoms reveal me, I see the Buddha.”

Wang Chuan smiled, forming a seal with his hand.