Volume One: The Hidden Dragon in the Abyss Chapter 57: Three Enemies

He desperately wanted to see a trace of that emotion—fear—on Wang Chuan’s face. Like those ants who once knelt before him, begging for mercy. But he was bitterly disappointed. Wang Chuan gazed upon the spectacle without the slightest ripple, utterly unperturbed. Was this man truly without emotion? How could such a person exist? How could it be possible?

Since encountering this individual, all his beliefs had been overturned. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t succumb to inner demons!” his companion shouted. The demon god quickly snapped back to his senses, letting out a roar that cleared his mind. Yes, he had nearly fallen to his own demons. He couldn’t let his thoughts wander any further. Yet, this man was fated to haunt the depths of his mind, never to be erased.

The demon race was born for blood and slaughter; their path of cultivation was the most prone to inner demons. This blow was far too overwhelming. The demon saint activated his sacred artifact, runes pulsing with intense primal energy, surging in all directions.

Suddenly, Wang Chuan saw moonlight flowing like a tide, as if drawn by some force. Moonlight? Why would such a thing appear? And why did it feel so strangely familiar? From time immemorial, mortals labored by day and rested by night. Yet certain spirit beasts, as well as most of the demon race, were quite the opposite. The power of the moon he had once wielded paled in comparison to what he witnessed now.

Moonlight gushed forth, as if pouring from the sacred artifact, each spark settling between heaven and earth, clinging to Wang Chuan’s barrier. A prison drawn upon the ground? He couldn’t explain why he felt this way. The methods of the demon race always filled him with an uncanny sensation—unpredictable as gods and ghosts.

Moonlight surged, cold and dazzling, beautiful in its silence and eeriness, concealing torrents of murderous intent. The demon saint’s myriad mystical powers transformed into runes, manifesting through moonlight, engraved upon its luminous surface, swirling around Wang Chuan’s barrier. With each radiant flare, invisible demonic energy erupted, swiftly corroding and devouring the power of the demonic aura. It seemed the more forcefully it attacked, the greater the power of the demon moonlight became.

The demonic cauldron’s blazing, boundless force adjusted, pressing down mercilessly upon Wang Chuan. “Suppress!” Wang Chuan brandished the demon banner, unleashing a thousand-mile wave of demonic energy. Majestic, unmatched in dominance.

Boom...

The waters of the sacred river, dormant for ages, suddenly stirred as if stimulated, each droplet coming alive, leaping in joy. The long river, drawn by Wang Chuan, soared into the heavens.

“How did you do that...” The demon god was aghast, a hint of panic flickering in his eyes. How could a single breath lift the sacred river? Even he, of the demon race, found the river difficult to move. Drawing even a portion was a monumental feat, each drop possessing the weight to suppress any mortal realm. Yet before Wang Chuan, it was as effortless as lifting a hand.

The vast, surging river suddenly vanished, and in the next moment, encircled the demon cauldron, demonic energy erupting on all sides, destroying the very fabric of space, dragging everything into oblivion.

Wang Chuan glanced over as the demon saint seized the opportunity to strike. He sneered, fingers like claws reaching for his foe.

“Senior, beware his claw technique—it’s strange!” To call the Capture Dragon Claw strange was an understatement.

It was utterly unfathomable—once unleashed, there was no escape, no breaking free. Every claw found its mark, unless one was of a higher realm and could overwhelm it with sheer force; otherwise, escape was impossible.

The demon saint, alerted even before the warning reached him, moved instinctively, dodging and leaping through the void. Yet always, that great hand followed like a shadow, locking onto him.

A shadow... The demon saint realized how apt the comparison was. He quickly severed his own aura, escaping with soul and body flickering like a cicada shedding its shell. Tearing through spatial passages, he maneuvered repeatedly, preparing to counterattack Wang Chuan upon returning to the ancient ruin.

Suddenly, he was horrified to find his opponent had appeared once again. That great hand, like an inescapable nightmare, pressed down upon him with relentless force.

“Damn it!” The demon saint, enraged, wielded his seal and struck at Wang Chuan’s spectral claw.

Boom...

A sound as if heaven and earth were being destroyed filled the air, the world quaking as if on the verge of collapse.

The Void Saint had reached his limit—devouring the world, he reaped tremendous benefits. “Hold on a little longer, Wang Chuan,” he thought.

“If you have no other tricks, today you’ll find no escape, above or below! You will be slain here!” The demon saint laughed wildly. “My demon world’s sacred artifact suppresses heaven and earth—no mystical technique can compare! So what if your martial arts are peculiar?”

It mattered not. What was there to fear?

In the next instant, he felt as if struck by thunder, his whole body trembling. Wang Chuan slowly raised his hand, lightly gripping the seal.

At that moment, he sensed the tremors and terror transmitted from the seal. It had been attuned to him, almost his personal sacred artifact. Yet now, fear gripped it, as Wang Chuan’s hand closed around it.

Every claw finds its mark...

He still tried to shatter the technique, but Wang Chuan’s Capture Dragon Claw seized his seal with absolute certainty, as if it could crush it at any moment.

Of course it was afraid—in that instant, he understood the feeling.

All the aura of the seal was drawn away by Wang Chuan, soon to be drained dry!

Demonic energy was siphoned off, ceaselessly transformed.

“Damn you, I’ll tear you to pieces, scatter your soul!” The demon saint roared in fury, grasping at his seal to wrestle for control.

This man, restraining the demon cauldron, could still spare the attention to restrain him.

The demon saint realized that the situation demanded his utmost effort—time was short, and soon Wang Chuan would be exhausted.

A mere mortal, limited in true essence—how could he contend with them?

“Now! Pin him down!” Another demon god, ignoring the Void Saint, launched an assault on Wang Chuan. Momentum surged, demonic energy like black clouds bearing down on the city!

The others had already pinned Wang Chuan—what power could he have left? Did he hope to fight three at once?

Absurd. Even as mere avatars, two demon gods and one demon saint—if they failed so badly, they might as well self-destruct.

Now, the Void Saint could only focus on refining the world. There was still a little time—enough to eliminate Wang Chuan!

The Void Saint needn’t seize the opportunity; there would be many chances later to cleanse the ranks.

It was Wang Chuan who was the true threat—a fact the demon race agreed upon, hence the descent of the demon saint to destroy him.

And now was the perfect opportunity.

“How dull...” Wang Chuan observed them, surprised that they would go to such lengths against him. They had truly given their all, sparing no cost.

Very well.

Wang Chuan’s expression remained unchanged, and in the eyes of others, it must have been deeply disappointing.

The demon saint and demon god exchanged glances, genuinely doubting whether the other had held back.

How had they reached this point, exerting every ounce of strength and yet unable to shake him in the slightest?

Had it not been for the surging power between them—enough to destroy heaven and earth—they would have retreated in the face of such force. Had they not witnessed it firsthand, they could scarcely believe Wang Chuan’s strength, which filled them with despair.

Then, another demon god’s attack arrived in an instant!

Wang Chuan had only two hands—one wielding the demon banner to seal the demon cauldron, the other gripping the demon saint’s sacred artifact.

But it was not as though he couldn’t deal with a third opponent.

With myriad mystical powers, he did not rely solely on his hands to defend. At their level, divine consciousness was manifold, capable of countless divisions.

One could unleash ten thousand attacks at once against thousands of foes.

Yet all knew: the more divided the mind, the weaker the attack; the further from peak power.

Therefore, the three joined forces, launching their greatest killing technique.

No matter what, Wang Chuan should find it difficult to withstand.

Once he was erased, the Void Saint could either flee wisely or meet his end; there would be no other chance.

Indeed, they were on guard, wary that Wang Chuan might escape at any moment.

As they thought this, Wang Chuan’s expression grew enigmatic, as if nothing could faze him.

How could such a person exist, such a monstrous talent?

They watched him slowly raise both arms, casually waving them.

True energy surged, countless mystical powers bursting forth, condensed between heaven and earth.

This time, it was pure, upright energy, vast as a flood, rolling like waves, pouring forth to strike another demon god.

“Such a pity, Wang Chuan, you are truly a peerless talent—restrained here, yet still so powerful!” The demon god resisted Wang Chuan’s attack, feeling not the slightest strain. “Your talent is extraordinary, but why master all three paths—divine, demon, and spirit? If you focused solely on the divine, you might have reached an unprecedented height!”

In ancient wars, humanity relied on the divine race.

Now, humanity ruled all realms, yet their arts were passed down from antiquity.

Back then, human arts came from the divine race.

Those among humanity with great talent could evolve into the divine.

Man and god, one and the same.

That was the principle.

They suspected Wang Chuan was an ancient sage, his understanding of divine arts reaching a lofty level.

His talent and comprehension were beyond doubt.

Yet what surprised them most was that he also mastered the arts of the demon and spirit races, wielding them with uncanny skill.

Ordinary people would never do so—wasting time, biting off more than they could chew!

He was strong.

But why, having reached such heights, would he do this?

No matter—it seemed a boon for them, making him easier to defeat.

Though their bodies were mere avatars, their cultivation and insight far surpassed Wang Chuan’s current state, making it easy to see through his situation.

The demon god easily broke through Wang Chuan’s attack, and with all his might, his great palm descended upon Wang Chuan.

With strength to subdue dragons, he could crack mountains, level seas, shatter heavens.

An ordinary mortal realm would have been obliterated under such pressure.

A single strike would shatter all.

But at that very moment, Wang Chuan struck again.

A true strike...

A long howl—not like a dragon’s roar, or tiger’s cry, or crane’s call, or ape’s wail, or wolf’s howl.

Yet it pierced the heavens and earth, shaking their souls.

In an instant, their minds and spirits seemed to waver.