Volume One: The Hidden Dragon in the Abyss Chapter 48: Fury

The might of the Demon God—these youths may not yet comprehend its true terror.

The True Dragon reversed its course in an instant, rushing straight back toward Cang Chen and his companions. The final surge of vital energy flickered and, unable to withstand the pressure, collapsed entirely, forcing away the essence of everyone nearby. The twin eyes of the dragon rotated, suddenly brimming with spiritual light, flashing with a deep, obsidian brilliance. Ancient patterns circulated, exuding an aura of age and power. Its entire body burned with fierce, crimson flames, as if possessed by some dread demon.

Roars echoed, dragon cries shaking heaven and earth. The pressure was so immense that some of the lower-tier cultivators could not hold out; their minds trembled, and blood spurted from their mouths. The form of the True Dragon unleashed tremendous might—one sweep of its body exploded the air for hundreds of yards around. Even the elite prodigies present were sent tumbling!

Foolish and weak mortals!

The Demon God had originally focused all his attention on Wang Chuan, disregarding the others. Yet they dared to provoke him on their own. He had no interest in tangling with these ants; the power his projected avatar could wield was limited—otherwise, he would have extinguished them all with a single thought.

Wang Chuan, Wang Chuan... today, your death is certain!

With a thunderous roar, the Demon God’s fury caused the demonic energy in the space to surge wildly, boiling forth in an instant. A murderous intent swept across heaven and earth—all were birds in a cage, with a butcher’s blade hanging above, poised to fall at any moment.

The Demon God poured his strength into a renewed assault against Wang Chuan. He locked onto the man’s aura, seemingly able to annihilate him at any moment. Yet his opponent’s origins were mysterious, his methods inscrutable; the faint thread of Wang Chuan’s essence seemed always on the verge of slipping free, escaping the snare.

If he succeeded, then the world would be his to roam—the sea vast for fish to leap, the sky boundless for birds to soar!

How infuriating this man was. Like an insect, one would expect death with every stomp, yet in the next instant he would be seen darting away, alive and agile. Another stomp...

Just then, several prodigies who had seemed restricted struck back. An edge no less sharp than the divine arts Wang Chuan had displayed appeared before the Demon God.

“So fast! An instant-kill technique? Such mastery!”

The Demon God’s senses were acute; danger always brought a natural warning. As the edge neared, his demonic energy surged forth again, taking the blow head-on. The spiraling demonic energy enveloped and absorbed the attack like the mouth of a bag.

A humming sound filled the air—it was as if countless insects flew as one, their frequencies aligned. Blades of light shot forth from the void, stabbing toward the Demon God from all directions!

A killing art! Profound beyond measure, unfathomable!

“Ah, what a shame! This was the perfect moment. If I were a Grandmaster, with refined spirit and true qi a hundredfold stronger, this strike could have slain the Demon God’s avatar outright!” Dao Qi lamented, as if a precious opportunity had been lost. Regret was too late.

“But apart from the Demon God and the Void Sage, isn’t Wang Chuan the only one at the Grandmaster level? He’s our greatest asset. But where is Wang Chuan?” Dao Qi wondered.

Yet his mind remained resolute, unyielding.

The Demon God’s demonic energy moved with incredible speed, swifter than wind, thunder, or lightning—a storm sweeping through. Fortunately, they escaped quickly, dodging the onslaught.

As the attack threatened others, Long Kuang’s body contracted abruptly, vanishing without a trace. The demonic energy sliced through empty space; it was a technique of instant displacement, carrying a mysterious spatial power.

“Wang Chuan, where are you? Where have you gone?”

“This was your doing! How could you be the first to flee?”

“...”

Cang Chen refused to retreat, stubbornly charging forward. His powerful body was operating at such intensity it seemed near collapse, determined to fight the Demon God regardless of the consequences.

Yet the Demon God could uproot mountains, tear the earth asunder—his realm was many times, even ten times, more formidable than theirs. A direct confrontation was futile. They sensed the ground behind them being torn apart, a tide of force surging relentlessly, giving them no chance to breathe.

Where was Wang Chuan? Had he truly fled?

“You wretch!”

The Demon God exploded with rage, seeing his opponent fleeing ever farther, nearly escaping the confines of the ancestral estate. Both palms rose like sun and moon, one transforming into day, the other into night—powers mysterious and inscrutable. A strange light shone from his hands, carrying unique energy; wherever it touched, solid stone was reduced to powder or melted away. Thus, he forcibly carved a passage the size of a person, his figure flashing through...

Gone—fleeing ever farther.

Wang Chuan’s techniques were astonishing, slicing earth and stone as easily as melting mud, flowing freely and swiftly, delving deeper underground, desperately evading pursuit. Yet he could not shake his adversary.

The Demon God’s avatar was gradually solidifying, his power increasing, becoming ever more formidable. Invisible and visible demonic energy seeped through the earth’s fissures, encircling and blocking Wang Chuan.

“Is this all you have, Wang Chuan? And you dare call yourself Emperor of Humanity?”

The Demon God’s voice thundered, vast as the sea, rolling like thunder. Beneath the earth, his voice echoed everywhere, shattering stone to sand. Invisible forces blocked Wang Chuan from all sides, slowing his progress.

The Demon God’s might was truly terrifying.

“Split open!” Wang Chuan formed a seal with both hands, shouting, and tore forward with his palms. True qi surged, a flood bursting through. The restricted earth was forced open, and he broke free once more. His senses, sharp as sun and moon, instantly connected to the mortal world—he seemed on the verge of escaping at any moment.

He would not reveal his location until he was certain of his chance.

“Tricks of the petty kind! You think you can escape my grasp? Earth’s mandate, heed my command! Sever!”

Above, the Demon God’s voice rang out again. He was the master of this realm, doing as he pleased, omnipotent. He controlled all things.

His voice seemed to come from beyond, distant and indistinct—yet also as if from the earth itself. With every word, the land resonated. The terrain twisted and undulated in response to the sound waves.

In that instant, Wang Chuan felt the earth’s vital energy surge violently, as if intent on expelling him. It repelled his aura, as though he was an outcast—unacceptable to the world!

If he remained here, he would be obliterated without pardon.

“This is a technique that overturns the five elements and confounds yin and yang—so powerful!” Wang Chuan was astounded.

He clawed at earth and stone, forcibly moving them aside, continuing his escape. His strong body, repelled by the earth’s energy, faltered for a moment, but his will grew ever more resolute. Yet his speed now was as slow as a snail—he seemed to have exhausted his options.

“The Dragon-Grasping Claw—you’ve mastered such a divine art!” The Demon God was stunned, then regretful. “A pity, truly—but your realm is too far beneath others! It is useless to you. The Dragon-Grasping Claw can seize all tangible things in the world, but wielded by one of low cultivation, it’s as a child brandishing a divine weapon—how far can you go? Such supreme arts are truly lost to the ages.”

The Demon God’s resolve to slay his foe only grew.

From afar, he reached out, his great hand grasping—the air surged, space nearly solidified. The earth and rocks Wang Chuan had moved away were quickly shifted back by the Demon God, trapping him ahead.

He knew the Demon God was powerful, but hadn’t expected him to be so tenacious. Having burrowed underground to escape, the Demon God pursued relentlessly, employing divine arts to dominate and control the realm in ways Wang Chuan could not match.

The situation was dire; all his trump cards revealed, yet he could not break free. It was like a fisherman casting a net—the net closing in, the basket scooping again and again.

And Wang Chuan was the hapless fish, struggling in this dire predicament.

To others, it was the last struggle of a trapped beast.

But my fate is mine, not Heaven’s!

Wang Chuan twisted his form, pointing two fingers toward the Demon God, a distant strike!

Words failed to describe it.

Suddenly, the Demon God screamed in rage. His demonic energy spilled like a ruptured sack, like a breached dam, flooding outward in all directions.

This strike pierced through space and time, crossing layers of void, striking its target without delay.

The other prodigies were shocked, swept by the impact. In that moment, they understood why Wang Chuan was an unrivaled genius. Even they, given the chance, could they muster such a blow? Could they wound the Demon God at his core?

It was unlikely, was it not?

That realization brought a sense of inferiority.

Would they sink into despair? No!

They were true prodigies, indomitable and unyielding. Only through countless trials could one attain the Great Dao!

Excellent, truly excellent.

They looked up to the lofty peaks—but upon seeing them, resolved to conquer!

Even for the sake of the Dao, one must persist, unwavering, ever onward! Continue forward...

If so, then let there be battle!

In that moment, those present erupted with an unprecedented, overwhelming fighting spirit—charging ahead, heedless of life or death!

But Wang Chuan, after that strike, seemed to have spent half his life. His figure wilted, his complexion pale. His soul had suffered grievous harm.

None could fathom the price he paid for that blow.

Yet he had carved out an opportunity—forcing open a breach. His body spun suddenly, like a whirling gyroscope, finding a flaw and burrowing underground once more, vanishing without a trace in an instant.

He didn’t look back after his strike, as if it mattered not—he had done his utmost. Or perhaps he was filled with confidence—a single hit, certain of success.

He had stalled the Demon God, buying himself time to escape.

The Demon God went mad, plunging his hand downward, scooping fiercely. The ground seemed to be plowed, exploding and splitting again and again, revealing magma, which he drew up, melting all things.

That force pursued relentlessly, searching over and over, but Wang Chuan’s figure was nowhere to be found.

This pursuit and escape had consumed untold demonic energy and true essence.

Yet the Demon God showed no sign of exhaustion, still at his peak.

It was strange, somehow.

“Wang Chuan!”

The Demon God’s fury erupted—the earth trembled, magma spouted sky-high. Demonic energy boiled like waves, surging in all directions.

Countless warriors, at the brink of life and death, unleashed immense power—many collapsed, most perished from exhaustion.

“What…”

“It’s all because of Wang Chuan.”

“I just found a secret treasure here—I don’t want to die!”

“...”

Others could not understand the Demon God’s rage, teetering on the edge of madness.

After so much effort, at such cost, the trap was finally set.

Wang Chuan had fallen into it.

Yet had he sensed something? It seemed so.

He escaped.

Born with great fortune—was he truly favored by destiny?

The demon race had spent so much—using a butcher’s blade to slaughter a chicken!

Though they had already regarded him highly, perhaps they had underestimated him.

This time, they failed to slay him.

Perhaps, there would never be another chance.