Volume One: The Dragon Hidden in the Abyss Chapter 47: Duel with the Demon
Wang Chuan let out a silent, cold laugh and sped toward the valley, his figure moving at its utmost limit. Something seemed to be pursuing him, yet nothing could be seen behind.
How utterly boring...
Long Kuang was asleep, right there in the ruins of the Demon God's domain, his entire being merging with the surrounding environment. None of the creatures nearby disturbed him, as if they did not even notice his existence. Occasionally, the sounds of fierce fighting drifted to his ears.
He turned his head slightly, half-opening his eyes, a glint of coldness flashing in the narrow slits. “Another tedious spectacle,” he murmured to himself.
To him, the combatants were too feeble, no more than ants wrestling—hardly worth his attention. He lay upon a great tree at the edge of a cliff, and by shifting his body, he could see the valley below. He was about to close his eyes again when a fleeting figure caught his eye.
“Hm?”
That person was astonishingly fast, flitting across his vision. The instant he saw the figure, Long Kuang’s eyes shone with surprise.
He recognized Wang Chuan.
The very one he had longed to meet, at last encountered in such circumstances.
“What is he doing? Why is he running so fast?”
Long Kuang’s interest was immediately piqued. Never before had he met a figure quite like Wang Chuan. He had heard many tales—each one resounding to the heavens. News of him was rare, but whenever it emerged, it shook the world.
From childhood, everyone around Long Kuang had been filled with lofty ambitions, intoxicated with passion and ideals. Yet, upon first hearing of Wang Chuan, he felt a loneliness and indifference that was achingly familiar.
Such desolation, intoxicated by the martial path!
Wang Chuan, too, saw the man ahead, shot him a glance, but his expression remained calm, utterly unmoved.
In today’s world, if any other martial artist faced Long Kuang alone, their expression would shift—nervous, wary, or even fearful. Yet for Wang Chuan, there was merely a passing glance, perhaps because he did not recognize him. But more so, it was indifference.
From a young age, he had been told he was a genius.
A man of destiny.
Even in the everyday acts of eating and sleeping, he progressed a hundred times faster than others. The gulf in talent was unbridgeable.
As he grew older, worthy opponents grew fewer. That lonely feeling—perhaps few could understand it, still striving for progress, still laboring for tomorrow.
But he no longer knew what he cultivated for.
After countless days of tedium, someone finally told him that a prodigy called Wang Chuan had appeared.
A genius unseen for a thousand years.
A young grandmaster.
Just hearing about him was enough to make Long Kuang’s blood race.
And today, in an instant, he recognized him.
Is he fleeing from something?
Very soon, he, too, sensed a formidable presence surging closer.
Before it, he had no power to resist.
But Wang Chuan—he was facing such a formidable existence.
Being hunted by such a person?
It felt as though a mountain soared overhead. Fortunately, the presence had no interest in him, was not pursuing him. The mountain-like force was intent only on crushing Wang Chuan.
The chase flashed before his eyes in a moment.
He felt a sense of being ignored.
Instead, excitement surged within him, his blood boiling.
This is what it means to be a true genius!
The strife of a great age!
At this level, perhaps someday he, too, could reach out and touch it.
Long Kuang slowly extended his hand, as if he could touch the sky.
I must devote myself to cultivation.
A powerful divine sense enveloped the entire space—Wang Chuan was like a chess piece set upon a board.
Every inch a trap.
He kept fleeing, moving with such speed it would drive one to despair.
The man behind him seemed truly furious now, as though someone dared to toy with him.
This insignificant ant—he had thought it would be easy to crush him, only to find Wang Chuan tenacious beyond belief!
Wang Chuan dove into the earth, like a loach slipping into the mud.
This was not an act of desperation, but the best means of escape.
Had he tried to flee through the sky, he would have been overtaken. But by slipping underground, relying on his earth-escape technique, none could pursue him.
This was his secret art, a life-saving skill, used now for the first time.
“You wretch! Is this all you can do? Split the mountains and rend the earth for me!”
At last, the man behind revealed himself—a surging black cloud of demonic energy, looming from the horizon.
With a furious roar, the entire world trembled and split apart.
Crack—crack—
The ground where Wang Chuan had just burrowed caved in, a deep fissure yawning open.
The man forcibly tore the land asunder, rending the earth a hundred feet deep, striking directly at Wang Chuan.
Split the mountains, rend the earth!
Such a supernatural power was no longer of the mortal world.
In that moment, the righteous and the demonic alike, and Long Kuang too, stared in shock.
Seeing the demon’s rage, witnessing the might of splitting mountains and rending earth, fear arose in their hearts—they wished only to withdraw.
This was no longer a battle of the mortal realm.
That man being pursued—was it Wang Chuan?
...
“How strong is Wang Chuan, really?”
The people of the Sacred Demon Sect gathered, asking their leader.
“Inestimable. He cannot be measured by mortal standards or strength. He, too, can move mountains and fill seas, and his cultivation excels in soul and spirit, his will reaching the heavens—he bears the aura of an ancient sage,” said the Illusory Saint. “I would dearly love to cross swords with him—it would surely be exhilarating. But I cannot upset the Revered One’s plans. Masters at their level can draw up the water of a great river in an instant—such power is beyond imagination. The martial way, when taken to the pinnacle, can comprehend the changes of heaven, alter the limits of the seasons, commune with the divine, shatter eternity. Life as long as the heavens and earth, brilliance rivaling sun and moon, hands covering the sky, plucking the stars.”
The Illusory Saint sighed softly.
What a pity—a man such as this, doomed to be slain by them!
...
Wang Chuan fled with astonishing speed, his movements slippery as a fish, diving ever deeper.
He looked back once, as if seeing through the shadow behind him.
Beneath the layers of demonic energy was a burly man clad in hide armor.
A demon!
Though the demon and beast clans could take human form, their true nature was always obvious. The man’s features were hideous, his skin marked with crisscrossing patterns. Most striking were his blood-red eyes.
Those eyes locked onto Wang Chuan, fixing his aura.
Was this the Demon God? Even if only an avatar?
Wang Chuan cast aside such thoughts and focused on escape.
Suddenly, a range of peaks and a lake appeared ahead. He leapt like a wandering dragon, the demonic aura seeping into his pores, merging from all sides.
He vanished completely—no trace remained.
“Incredibly cunning!” the pursuer sneered.
He casually seized a mountain peak, demonic energy forcing the waters of the lake aside.
On their own territory, any technique was doubly effective.
At this time, the passage to the outside world was widening.
All across the Divine Land, portals appeared, leading to the ruins of the Demon God.
Countless martial artists were flying in, searching for treasures.
The demon, astonishingly, could spare effort to clear obstacles while continuing the hunt for Wang Chuan.
A booming voice echoed across the heavens—a Demon God’s avatar descending.
Boom—boom—
The world’s energy raged, torrents of power crashing down, shaking the lake’s bed and splitting it as if by earthquake.
Yet below, all was calm—no trace of movement.
As if Wang Chuan was not there at all.
The avatar, gathering its power, raised the mountain into the air, hovering silently—ready to strike.
“What of a Demon God? And this is only an avatar!”
At that moment, a youth in blue appeared in the distance, his handsome face sparkling with battle intent.
His will soared skyward!
All could sense it.
Zheng—
Suddenly, the air for miles around rang with the cry of swords!
Sword intent surged like waves, slashing toward the Demon God from all directions!
He dared attack!
“Insolence!”
“Outrageous!”
“Ugly beast clansman!”
...
The demon clansmen howled, itching to seize their weapons and charge to battle!
But they could only watch from afar.
Their lord had no need of their help.
He had only intended to crush an ant, and now another ant had come to bite.
How infuriating.
“Haha! Foolish beast clans, you have fallen so low! With your talent, you must be among the top geniuses—perhaps in a thousand years you could oppose me, but now it is a hopeless fantasy.”
Though the Demon God’s avatar spoke, his hands did not pause—his form expanded, a giant hand seizing a wisp of invisible air.
The formless sword energy was blocked, rendered powerless.
Pfft—
Daoqi coughed blood.
His swordsmanship was sublime, invisible and lethal—yet the foe saw through him with ease.
“Haha! If we walk the great path, how can we cower and hesitate?”
A youth clad in beast-hide leapt into the sky, hurling a fist at the mountain.
Rumble—
Like thunder, the towering peak quaked, cracks spreading through the rock.
Stones fell, dust billowed.
“Come! If I am to die, let it be gloriously!”
Long Kuang roared and also leapt out.
True energy surged, coiling in the air like an immense dragon radiating pure Yang.
A dragon’s roar scattered the demonic miasma.
One after another, heroes appeared—champions battling the Demon God!
A Demon God! It set the heart ablaze.
Such an entity was akin to the sacred ones of humanity.
Even if it was only an avatar, perhaps through this battle one could glimpse the secrets of shattering the void.
The Demon Realm truly did contain Demon Gods!
It was staggering.
...
“Fall!”
The Demon God’s avatar laughed coldly, unconcerned.
In that instant, an imperceptible black thread, moving at an unimaginable speed, fell upon the divine dragon.
Like a drop of ink spreading across water, blackness permeated the dragon’s form, turning the tide in an instant.
The might of the Demon God—perhaps these youths could not yet comprehend it!
The true dragon, reversed, struck back at Cang Chen and his companions.
Its energy flashed, overwhelming all resistance, forcing back the energy of everyone nearby.
The dragon’s twin eyes spun, brimming with intelligence, glimmering with a dark luster.
Ancient patterns coursed with the aura and power of ages.
Its body burned with crimson flames, as if possessed by a mighty demon.
Roars shook the heavens; lesser cultivators could not endure, their hearts trembling—they vomited blood.
The dragon unleashed its strength, the air for hundreds of yards exploded, and even the greatest geniuses present were hurled away!
Foolish, feeble beings!
The Demon God had focused on Wang Chuan, ignoring the rest. But they dared provoke him.
He had no wish to entangle with such ants—a projection could only wield so much power. Otherwise, a single thought would have annihilated them all.
Wang Chuan, oh Wang Chuan.
Today you are doomed!
Boom—
Enraged, the Demon God sent all the demonic energy in the space into a frenzy, boiling in an instant.
A deadly silence fell over the world—every being a caged bird, the executioner’s blade poised overhead.
The Demon God unleashed his full power against Wang Chuan.
He had locked onto his foe’s aura, ready to deliver a fatal blow.
Yet Wang Chuan’s origins were mysterious, his methods unfathomable; the slender trace of his presence seemed about to break free, slipping from the snare.
When that happened, he would be free as a fish in the sea, a bird in the sky!
How infuriating!
This ant—each time he seemed doomed, he would spring away in the next moment.
Yet again...
Just then, the few geniuses who had been suppressed struck back.
A flash no less sharp than Wang Chuan’s own divine techniques appeared before the Demon God.
“So fast! A killing technique? Such mastery.”
The Demon God’s senses were preternaturally sharp—a warning of danger instinctive. As the attack neared, his demonic energy surged, taking the blow head-on.
Swirling demonic force, like a drawstring pouch, enveloped the assault.
Buzz, buzz—
It seemed as though myriad insects flew in unison—the same rhythm—countless sword lights burst from the void, stabbing at the Demon God from all directions!
A killing technique—unsurpassed, spectral, mysterious!
“What a pity! This was the perfect moment. If only I had reached the grandmaster realm, refined my soul, and my true energy and techniques were a hundred times mightier, I could have slain this avatar in one stroke!”
Daoqi lamented, as if mourning a lost opportunity.
Too late for regrets.
“But among those present, apart from the Demon God and Illusory Saint, only Wang Chuan is at the grandmaster’s level—he is our greatest hope! But Wang Chuan, where are you?”
Daoqi could not help but wonder.
Yet his mind remained unshaken.
Soon, the Demon God’s demonic energy moved with a speed beyond wind, thunder, or lightning—a tempest sweeping all before it.
Fortunately, they dodged in time.
As the attack was about to fall upon the others—
Long Kuang’s body shrank and vanished, leaving the demonic energy to slash empty space—a spatial displacement technique, mysterious and swift.
“Wang Chuan, where are you! Where have you gone?”
“This was your doing—why have you fled first?”
...
Cang Chen refused to retreat; instead, he stubbornly charged forward.
His powerful body verged on collapse from intense exertion.
He was determined to oppose the Demon God, consequences be damned.
But the Demon God could move mountains or rend the earth—his strength was many times greater, even tenfold. In a direct clash, they could not hope to win.
They felt the ground behind them tearing apart, power surging like a tide, pressing closer—no respite.
Where was Wang Chuan—had he truly fled?
“Wretch!”
The Demon God erupted in fury, watching his quarry draw farther away, about to escape the ruins altogether.
His palms rose like sun and moon—one becoming the sun, the other the moon—wielding unfathomable might.
From his hands, strange lights shone forth, their power disintegrating all stone and rock in their path, reducing it to dust or melting it into liquid.
In this manner, he carved a tunnel the size of a man, shooting forward at astonishing speed...
Fleeing, ever farther.
Wang Chuan’s techniques were beyond belief—cutting through rock and earth, gliding as freely as if swimming through mud, perfectly matched, fleeing ever deeper below, striving to evade pursuit.
Yet, he could not seem to shake his adversary!
The Demon God’s avatar seemed to be coalescing, its power swelling, growing ever more formidable.
Formless and corporeal demonic energy seeped into the earth’s cracks, weaving from all directions to surround and block his escape.
“Wang Chuan, is this all your skill at fleeing? Do you still dare call yourself Emperor of Humanity?”
The Demon God’s challenge resounded—loud as the sea, thunderous as the storm.