Volume One: The Hidden Dragon in the Abyss Chapter 60: Peace of Mind

In the depths of the void, a strange transformation suddenly unfolded.

At that moment, spiritual rain poured down in torrents.

This vast expanse of the starry domain stretched on endlessly, as if a celestial dragon lay slumbering within. Stars clustered thickly, shrouded year-round by a veil of mist, keeping the panoramic view forever elusive. The circumstances were intricate and complex, spreading far and wide.

Then, the spiritual rain descended abruptly, drenching the entire realm.

It was as though the world was being born anew, myriad spirits blossoming for the very first time.

Radiant light flickered, gentle as spring breezes and warming sun, nurturing all of creation.

Soon, everything grew lush and verdant, dense with thriving vitality.

Spiritual flowers bloomed, wondrous herbs swayed, their fragrances rich and intoxicating, filling the air with a refreshing sweetness.

Clouds and mist drifted, immortal melodies lingered in the ear—dreamlike, illusory, ethereal as the heavens themselves.

The Void Saint gradually discerned that, at the center of it all, shadowy traces of veins appeared, glowing with dazzling light, pulsing along hidden channels. From these intricate lines, spiritual energy flowed, circulating and nourishing, greedily absorbed at every turn.

A faint phantom hovered in and out of sight, radiating an enchanting halo; patterns rippled across its surface, glimmering with ethereal light.

“Wang Chuan!”

The Demon God and the Monster Saint’s eyes widened in recognition; that figure and aura were all too familiar—he had reappeared.

The curtain of rain abruptly withdrew, revealing Wang Chuan’s fragmented body. His face, for once, showed traces of exhaustion and weariness, as if wracked with pain.

His expression drifted toward unconsciousness, a longing for sleep overcoming him.

“Wang Chuan? Your fate is most peculiar.”

A voice resounded from above the palace, and a healing spirit pill flew toward him.

It was white as mutton fat jade; as soon as he swallowed it, a coolness spread through his meridians, soon warming him from within, infusing him with a blissful, floating sensation. His body instinctively circulated his energy, catalyzing the pill’s power. A surge of refined vitality erupted around him, spiraling through the air before withdrawing back within. In mere moments, his spirit was restored, his injuries miraculously healed.

Ordinary people would never survive such a potent medicine—most would perish, their bodies overwhelmed by the force. Even a master would need several months to assimilate its power, then years of arduous cultivation to complete their transformation.

But for Wang Chuan, it was instantaneous. His acupoints resonated with the stars above; with a gesture, he commanded an unparalleled divine strength.

“What a strange destiny you bear! Born under the star of solitude, you lost your parents young, every friend and kin cut down, wives perishing because of you. Though you once dominated your world, you were left utterly alone; invincible, yet tormented by a life worse than death. Foreign invaders brought calamity, your nation’s power waned, and you were left exhausted.”

Again the voice echoed from the palace—deep and sonorous, like the tolling of a great bell or the decree of gold and jade.

Divine words, spoken with the force of law.

“He is a variable, destined to overturn the myriad worlds and defy the Great Dao,” the Monster Saint sneered. “This will shake your Divine Clan to its core. It’s regrettable you chose to save him.”

“Divine Clan?” Wang Chuan asked, perplexed. “Who are you? What is your origin?”

That day, the heavens beyond seemed to darken suddenly.

The sky fell into utter silence.

Wang Chuan witnessed the means to reverse fate itself, to twist the sun and moon’s course.

“In the sky stands the White Jade Capital, with twelve towers and five cities. An immortal once laid a hand upon my crown, bestowing longevity at the binding of my hair,” came the voice from above the palace. “Wang Chuan, I come on behalf of the Martial Academy. Who was your master? Are you from the White Jade Capital?”

“That is all you wish to know?” Wang Chuan frowned but didn’t elaborate. “My master never mentioned her name, nor is she affiliated with the White Jade Capital. The rumors are untrue.”

A brief silence settled.

“So be it. Across the heavens and myriad worlds, there are many beyond even the reach of the Martial Academy.”

A member of the Martial Academy, of the Divine Clan?

And the only inquiry was about the White Jade Capital; nothing more.

But what Wang Chuan said next left everyone present utterly astounded. “The White Jade Capital follows the lineage of the Emperor; the Martial Academy was established by the Human Sovereign. As for us… we are of the line of the Mysterious Empress. We all share a common origin…”

“The Mysterious Empress, so that’s how it is…” The figure above the palace understood.

Outsiders would find it hard to grasp.

The Mysterious Empress—her name still lingered in the memories of the Monster Saint and Demon God. In that age, she was a luminary beyond compare.

Even the Divine Clan, exalted as they were, could only bow before her in reverence.

And Wang Chuan was her inheritor?

Yet he was a variable.

“Wang Chuan, your mother is well, though she could not return to see you. I hope you understand. The gift she left you—you have already received it,” said the envoy of the Martial Academy, sensing the surging blood and the cultivation method within Wang Chuan’s body.

“If one seeks the Great Dao, one’s heart must be free of distractions. There is no need to linger on what cannot be changed,” Wang Chuan replied indifferently. “I will walk my own path. It seems she has let go; then I have no regrets.”

“We once came to visit you when you were a child, but sadly did not recognize your potential at the time,” the envoy said.

“I don’t remember,” Wang Chuan shook his head.

“Then let it be. With your fortuitous encounters and the Empress’s legacy, you are already beyond measure,” the envoy said, sending forth a bamboo slip.

Wang Chuan caught it and glanced at its contents—a cultivation method. “There’s no need for this.”

“This divine art should suit you. Our academy possesses the Dragon Seizing Claw technique, but none have mastered it,” the envoy explained.

“‘The Grand Soul-Searching Hand of Yin and Yang’?” Wang Chuan was stunned as he read.

“This peerless art complements the Dragon Seizing Claw—one excels in the tangible, the other in the intangible. One is yin, the other yang; one real, one illusory; one bright, one shadow. With both hands, nothing in heaven or earth can escape—there is no hiding, no evasion!” the envoy declared. “Wang Chuan, you have already demonstrated its power.”

At these words, the divine dragon at the envoy’s side shifted restlessly.

Now, with the true dragon present and Wang Chuan in possession of the Dragon Seizing technique, there would be no conflict.

“Very well, I shall accept it,” Wang Chuan nodded. He had need of it.

“Yet we have always wondered: if none can master this divine art, how did it come to be so sophisticated and profound?” the envoy pressed.

Wang Chuan, it seemed, still harbored secrets.

Such a technique could not have appeared from thin air.

Even if none had mastered it, at least one person—the creator—must have done so.

And perhaps Wang Chuan was connected to that individual.

No matter; everyone has secrets. It is not important.

If he chose not to speak, there was no need to press.

“How should I address you, senior?” Wang Chuan inquired.

“Ye Qianxing,” the other replied.

“Are you the Exalted Ye?” Wang Chuan asked in surprise.

“You know me?” Ye Qianxing was puzzled.

“Of course. I have long admired you. Ye shines resplendent across the mortal world—the foremost beneath the stars!” Wang Chuan smiled. “One of the Nine Great Protectors.”

Few cultivators now remembered that the head of the Martial Academy was revered not only for his mastery of martial and inscription arts, but also for defending humanity against foreign invaders…

Wang Chuan had always held such people in the highest esteem.

Though he himself would not tread that path.

Sacrifice—the word was too weighty.

“With greater power comes greater responsibility. Wang Chuan, what will you do in the future?” Ye Qianxing asked.

“To wear the crown is first to bear its weight…” Wang Chuan considered. “But I seek only the Great Dao.”

“Wang Chuan, you are always welcome at the Martial Academy. You may bring your master as well,” Ye Qianxing invited.

His curiosity about Wang Chuan’s master exceeded even his interest in Wang Chuan himself.

The divine dragon leapt, preparing to turn and carry the palace away.

In moments, peace returned to this realm; as soon as they departed, all faded into nothingness.

“Impressive. Neither flower nor mist, neither dream nor illusion…” Wang Chuan murmured in awe. “Such power to trace across the ages, to reverse yin and yang—this is true strength, the realm of the sacred.”

Those Demon Gods and Monster Saints—this was their true form as well.

“Pity, the Divine Clan remains as arrogant as ever. Wang Chuan, you are just like them! They dared to help you, a variable, instead of seizing the chance to destroy you. One day, they will pay the price!” the Monster Saint declared, preparing to leave. He looked at Wang Chuan, his voice resolute. “Wang Chuan, if my monster clans march forth, we shall bathe ten cities in blood and tear you to pieces!”

At these words, Wang Chuan’s brow furrowed into a cold smile. “Then go and die…”

With a single palm strike, the figures swiftly dissipated and vanished.

Shaking his head, Wang Chuan turned to leave as well.

“Too much pointless chatter…”

…

The imperial palace, tallest among landmarks, was the perfect place to witness all that had transpired.

A young girl in a white dress stood, blending with moonlight and clouds, her figure dreamy and ethereal.

Moonbeams washed over the balustrade, casting long, graceful shadows that swayed with the breeze.

Wang Chuan landed lightly on the pavilion; the girl had already walked into the corridor. In the next instant, as her mind cleared, a smile bloomed on her lips.

She called out something, though he did not hear.

Wang Chuan simply nodded with a smile, hands clasped behind his back, the moonlight refining his transcendent, otherworldly bearing. “I have returned.”

“What took you so long?” Xu Wei asked, her heart still reeling from the night’s dramatic events, though now she felt calm once more.

“There was some trouble, but it’s nothing—it’s over now,” Wang Chuan replied softly. “It’s late. You should rest.”

Xu Wei nodded. “Alright.”

Perhaps because he matched the image of a young woman’s ideal, she felt the urge to draw closer.

“Then you should rest early too,” Xu Wei said.

“I can’t sleep. I’ll keep watch here—you go ahead,” Wang Chuan responded.

Xu Wei hesitated, then nodded, saying nothing more. Her steps were light as she returned to her room, soon lying on her bed, lost in thought.

She suddenly felt unworthy to utter those grand words about protecting others. Then, reaching beneath the covers, she grasped a branch—her slender hand pale and delicate.

She had once been playful, naive, meeting Wang Chuan by chance, much to her parents’ surprise. Her wish to study martial arts had vexed and worried her family—what could a princess learn in a humble alley?

Only later did they discover his brilliance in both literature and martial arts, lofty and unattainable for most.

Many would spend a lifetime unable to reach such heights.

And in the prime of youth, they had encountered each other.

It was as if her entire life had been illuminated.

Eventually, the girl drifted off to sleep.

Wang Chuan smiled, scaled the railing with practiced ease, and with a light leap vanished into the night, covering hundreds of paces in an instant.