Volume One: The Dragon Hidden in the Abyss Chapter 43: Emerging from the Mountains

"Zhen and Wei, rivers flowing wide and free. Gentlemen and ladies, holding rushes in hand. The lady asks, 'Shall we watch?' The gentleman replies, 'Let us go.' 'Let us watch, beyond Wei, where it is vast and joyful.' Thus, gentlemen and ladies joke with each other, exchanging peonies as gifts."
On the third day of the third month, around the time of Qingming, grass grows, orioles flit, willows turn green and flowers bloom in abundance.
The Shangsi Festival, originating in antiquity, was established to honor Fuxi, the ancestor of humanity. People donned feathered garments, picked shepherd's purse flowers, climbed hills, and wandered through the verdant landscape, delighting in the festivities.
A gentle rain falls on apricot trees, wispy clouds drift above mulberry paths, all things awaken, spring surges forth.
In the Palace of Immortal Peaches, devotees burn incense; along the river, a breeze stirs; the dust of ten miles rises, blanketing the earth.
"Wang Chuan, Wang Chuan..."
Xu Wei arrived early again, dressed in beautiful attire and carrying an orchid.
Wang Chuan was sitting cross-legged on his bed, lost in thought, until her call brought him back to himself.
"Come on, let's go have some fun," Xu Wei said to him.
"Oh, alright..."
Wang Chuan considered for a moment, then stepped outside to find Yang Hao and instruct him. "It's today."
"Today?" Yang Hao was startled, then quickly understood. "Rest assured, Your Highness, we will take care of ourselves."
Wang Chuan thought it over carefully. He ought to have sent them away for safety, but let it be.
If fate is a blessing, it cannot be avoided; if it is a calamity, it cannot be escaped.
He hoped the Lord Yu would protect them this time.
"Buy all the fireworks in the city and set them off tonight after dark," Wang Chuan commanded.
"Yes, sir." Yang Hao went off to carry out the order.
...
"Is something about to happen?" Xu Wei asked curiously.
"It's nothing. Go enjoy yourself," Wang Chuan replied, rubbing her head.
Leaving the city, they climbed a mountain and paid their respects at the Temple of the Western Queen Mother, burning incense.
They wandered the mountain together; Wang Chuan seemed in good spirits, and the atmosphere among the visitors was harmonious.
Spring flowers bloomed brilliantly on the mountain, their fragrance subtle and pure. The scent of spring blossoms differed from those of summer and autumn—delicate, barely perceptible, cool yet warm.
An indescribable beauty, just like Xu Wei's smile.
"Wang Chuan, if you have matters to attend to, don't worry about me," she finally said at dusk, wishing to return to the palace.
She was happy to have had his company for so long today.
"The sunset is infinitely beautiful, though it draws near to dusk," Wang Chuan sighed, gazing at the fading sun.
He gently took Xu Wei's hand, listening to her soft response.
As they walked back toward the city, fireworks bloomed across the sky, illuminating their figures along the bustling streets.
Reflected in the faces of delighted onlookers.
...
In the far north, deep in the wilds.
The climate here was exceptionally cold; mountains and lakes lay buried under thick ice and snow. The wind that struck one's face was like a blade, rattling against the protective aura with sharp, crackling sounds.
"Village Chief, I'll just take a stroll and be back soon!"
At the entrance to a small, inconspicuous village, a boy in his teens waved goodbye.
The village chief was an old man with white hair, his voice soft amid the raging wind, frail as a dried branch swaying, ready to topple at any moment.
Yet his words reached the boy's ears clearly.
"Xiao Chen, didn't you say you were only going out for a walk? Why did you steal the spirit stones from my bedside?"
The boy shrugged, laughing awkwardly. "You caught me! Actually, I'm planning to find a place to cultivate in seclusion—can't do without spirit stones! My inspiration is surging like a fart ready to burst—I need to hurry, or it'll all dissipate."
Amid the fierce wind, the boy wore a simple short jacket of animal hide, revealing a body as hard as steel. In a flash, he dashed into the storm and vanished.
He ran a hundred miles away.
Cang Chen laughed aloud. "That old fool! Who goes to cultivate? I'm heading to the Central Plains to search for the Demon God's legacy, seize the inheritance, meet the best young talents of the world. I won't be coming back."
Roar—
In the wilderness, countless strange beasts roamed.
A demon bear suddenly lunged from its hiding place, clearly lying in wait, springing at the youth.
Like a lion hunting a rabbit, powerful and fierce.
The boy made no move to dodge—not because he didn't see, but as if indifferent, letting the giant bear crash into him.
The impact was fierce, like a boulder smashing a crab.
Bang—
The boy staggered back several steps, halting, the ground beneath his feet cracking and sinking into deep pits.
He formed a fist and struck the bear's head hard, blood splattering.
"Get out of the way. I have no time to play with you."
He kicked casually, sending the massive demon bear flying, its destination unknown.
Back in the village, a middle-aged man clad in animal hide shook his head. "Village Chief, that kid's definitely headed for the Central Plains. Are you really letting him go?"
The chief stroked his beard kindly. "Young people need ambition and boldness. If he doesn't go, I would find a way to send him. You must let them be wild."
"Then why didn't you let him go before?"
"The time wasn't right, his strength insufficient. Too much hardship too soon and the young seedling breaks. The few who endure trials and tribulations grow strong, weathering wind and rain."
...
In Xiqiang, a towering mountain pierced the clouds, its summit shrouded in dense mist, crowned by a majestic, pitch-black palace.
The architecture was severe and somber; someone stood with their back to the palace gates, high above.
"This opening of the Demon God's legacy is extraordinary. It's not just a contest of strength, but of destiny."
"I understand, Master," came a clear, ethereal voice.
A girl sat cross-legged in the center, her form elusive, seeming to blend into the shadows, almost absent from the world.
...
In the land of blazing heat, the air shimmered.
At the heart of a volcanic region, a bare, yellow mountain rose high.
Its summit was smooth as a mirror.
Looking out, golden magma flowed in all directions, swirling below.
"The Demon God's legacy is about to emerge. Countless hidden forces are appearing, a great era of competition—dragons and serpents rising together."
A middle-aged man in a scarlet-gold robe hovered quietly above the peak, his voice echoing. "This is the opportunity for mortals to become gods and saints—or perhaps a disaster."
A domineering, resolute youth declared with boundless confidence, "To live is to be outstanding! With this Demon Clan legacy, I will seize a great opportunity, ascend to sainthood in one leap."
"Excellent! That is the spirit of our kind."
The man laughed loudly, the entire mountain trembling, magma roiling in waves.
...
"Daoqi, your sword technique is already flawless—rare in a thousand years for our clan. But you are still far from comprehending the true essence of swordsmanship. If you grasp it, no hero in the world will rival you."
On a cliff a thousand fathoms high, among distant islands, a man in blue stood with hands behind his back, robes fluttering, ready to ride the wind away.
The youth's expression was cold and thoughtful. "The true meaning of swordsmanship?"
"Heh, it's a bit difficult for you, even I haven't fully understood it. I just want you to move in that direction, without binding yourself. Building behind closed doors is limited; you must compete with heroes, walk the great path, prove yourself, and claim your place in this world!"
"Yes, Master." Though the youth could not yet comprehend, he remembered the words.
...
All across the land, countless factions large and small, tens of thousands of young martial artists hurried toward Fu City.
The rumors grew ever more intense—tonight, the legacy would appear.
Martial artists had already gathered around Fu City, the atmosphere increasingly tense and oppressive.
Legend held that such places of the Demon God's legacy brought great opportunity, and in antiquity, some seized it to ascend to godhood in a single step.
Enough to drive countless martial artists mad, losing all reason.
Those who gained opportunity here, shining among youth, almost always achieved greatness—the greater the chance, the greater the achievement, with only rare exceptions.
...
Deep underground, cold and eerie.
A stern-faced man sat upon a throne.
The chair was neither wood nor stone, forged from unknown materials, its style bold and wild.
"By supreme decree, all masters and above must act—seize our Demon Clan's legacy! If Wang Chuan appears, kill him at any cost!"
The demons below roared their assent, an overwhelming tide of energy.
This was the legendary Holy Demon Sect, emerging at last.
Every sect leader cultivated the "Heavenly Demon Transformation," one of the sect's highest secrets. In critical moments, they communed with the Maha Demon God for guidance.
This time, the ancient Demon God issued a command—to kill a mere human youth named Wang Chuan at all costs.
As if he were feared beyond measure.
Why was this?
And that sixth prince of Wei, a human, whom the Holy Lord brought back to help him ascend to the Sky Rank—also to deal with Wang Chuan. Yet, according to intelligence, the prince seemed afraid, never daring to confront Wang Chuan directly.
Why did the Demon Clan, especially the Holy Demon Sect, pay such attention to this person? As the sect leader, it was the first he'd heard of Wang Chuan.
By all appearances, he was simply a talented human, nothing extraordinary.
First among the young generation, a master in youth!
But compared to the Demon Clan's own prodigies, he seemed unremarkable.
...
That night was far from peaceful.
Suddenly, a rainbow streaked across the sky, like a river of stars piercing the heavens.
No stars or moon could be seen; their light was concealed.
The dazzling rainbow grew ever brighter, and above, a radiant gate slowly emerged.
All the martial artists watched in awe.
The illusory gate became solid, like crystal, like gold, standing amid the colored light.
A high, resonant sound seemed to shake the hearts of all.
Carp leap through the Dragon Gate, rising as dragons.
To them, this gate held profound significance.
Whoosh—
"Haha..."
A martial artist laughed wildly, leaping toward the gate, shooting through the air with a piercing sound.
Unable to restrain himself, he charged ahead.
This height...
Ordinary martial artists could not reach it.
A Sky Rank martial artist!
Sky Rank was not a single ascent.
It was beneath the Nine Heavens, martial arts transcending the mortal world.
The Sky Rank—high above.
In antiquity, when martial arts flourished, Sky Rank martial artists could touch the heavens.
Further, they could stand equal with the sky.
"Ah..."
Suddenly, a shrill scream was heard—the martial artist was falling.
How could this be...