It wasn’t clear how long he had been unconscious.
The world around Lin Huang stirred him awake with a bone-rattling explosion that shattered the silence.
A blinding flash seared through the darkness, followed by a roaring boom that shook the stone walls. Dust poured from the ceiling in suffocating waves, filling his nostrils and coating his tongue with grit. The iron chains suspending him shuddered violently, their echo clanging through the hollow chamber like the rattle of furious serpents. His body swung with the tremor — pain flaring across his wrists and shoulders as blood trickled down his bruised arms.
For a brief, disoriented moment, Lin Huang thought he was dreaming again — trapped in one of those endless nightmares where escape was always just out of reach.
But then another explosion followed — closer, louder, crueler — and the entire underground hall groaned, the floor beneath him trembling as if it might cave in.
A spark ignited in his mind. His pulse quickened as an unreal possibillity appered in his head.
The heavens... didn’t close all doors on me after all.
He realized what was happening..the chaos, the smell of fresh blood, everyhing pointed toward one thing — the Blood Fang hideout was under attack. Someone had found this hellhole, and that meant only one thing: a chance to escape.
Excitement surged through him, banishing the haze of despair — only to freeze the next second, like ice poured down his spine. His body strained against the chains, but they refused to budge. The thick, rune-etched metal cut into his flesh with every movement, mocking his struggle.
Too weak. He was still too damn weak.
He clenched his teeth, veins standing out on his neck, fury and shame burning through the fog of exhaustion.
"If I get out of here," he whispered hoarsely, "I’ll never be this helpless again... never."
It wasn’t a promise. It was a curse hurled at himself — and at the heavens that watched.
The hall shuddered once more. Then, with a sudden clang, the iron gates at the far end burst open.
Footsteps echoed — slow, deliberate, confident.
"Let’s see what the Blood Fang gang has hidden here," a calm, steady voice said from beyond the smoke.
Out of the dust walked a young man in loose black robes, his expression unreadable, his gaze sharp as a blade. His eyes swept across the rows of hanging prisoners before settling on Lin Huang. His brow furrowed slightly — not in pity, but in thought.
Wang Chen had seen filth before. The kind that wore human skin but reeked worse than beasts. When he’d followed the steward to the Blood Fang hideout earlier, he’d found no Foundation Building expert, no true cultivator — only vermin. He’d unleashed his wrath without hesitation, cutting them down like weeds. No guilt, no mercy.
with his three turn sword art now powered by his peak qi refining realm cultivation, dealing with small fries was no big deal.
If anything, he thought heaven might even thank him for cleaning its mess.
But this chamber... this was different.
He’d stumbled into a hidden vault guarded more heavily than any treasury. And among the starved and broken figures dangling in chains, one particular youth caught his attention.
Wang Chen’s gaze flicked to the status screen projected faintly by his system — although he had seen the information before, however even the second time his rection was no different.
[Name: Lin Huang
Cultivation: None
Lifespan: 999 years]
Wang Chen breathing quickened automatically.
"...Nine hundred ninety-nine years?" he muttered, as if the words might change if spoken aloud. The number glowed mockingly before him — a cosmic joke written in golden light.
He glanced back at the shriveled boy barely clinging to life. The young boy skin was ghost-pale, his frame emaciated, his breathing ragged — a mortal through and through. Yet beside him, Wang Chen’s own lifespan flickered faintly: thirty-five years.
A humorless chuckle escaped his lips. "So heaven’s playing jokes again."
He compared the two numbers and almost coughed blood. Thirty-five against nine hundred and ninety-nine — it was like comparing a candle flame to the sun.
Still, despite the absurdity, he felt something... a faint pull. A karmic thread.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Young man, you seem to share some karmic—"
He stopped mid-sentence. The boy had fainted again, his head lolling lifelessly forward.
Wang Chen sighed, rubbing his temple. "Figures."
He flicked his wrist. The air rippled faintly, and the chains binding Lin Huang shattered with a resounding crack. The boy’s body dropped like a stone, but before it could hit the ground, Wang Chen blurred forward, catching him with one arm.
"Not so fast, little guy..." he murmured, exhaling in relief. Cold sweat traced his back.
"Another second, and your neck would’ve snapped."
He hoisted Lin Huang’s frail body over his shoulder and turned toward the rest of the prisoners. Dozens of faces stared back at him — hollow-eyed, trembling, silently begging.
Wang Chen hesitated. His jaw tightened.
He exhaled heavily. "Another day, another stray life to carry."
With a lazy wave of his hand, the rest of the chains fell open, clattering like the broken wings of metal birds.
"The heavens curse my soft heart," he muttered, half to himself.
Without another word, he turned and strode out. He’d done what he could. The commotion he’d caused would already be drawing attention — and the Imperial guards weren’t known for patience.
Best to vanish before dawn.
And vanish he did.
---
By sunrise, the Blood Fang hideout was nothing but ash and smoke, its stench carried by the wind. Wang Chen never looked back. He never did.
The golden light of morning washed over the Imperial City, gilding its rooftops in bronze and fire.
Within the serene courtyard of the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo, Wang Chen swept the training ground in silence, broom bristles scraping softly across the wooden floor. The faint scent of incense mixed with the earthy mix of dust and oil.
He lined the weapons on their racks with methodical care, polished the floors until they gleamed, and finally sank to his knees in meditation.
Even in peace, he couldn’t afford to be careless. The empire was filled with beasts — human and otherwise — and sometimes all it took to provoke death was breathing too loudly in the wrong alley.
He smirked faintly at that thought.
"Still," he muttered, "better to be paranoid than dead."
Just as he closed his eyes, his gaze drifted toward the far corner — to the frail figure lying on a straw mat. Lin Huang hadn’t moved since they’d returned. His face was as pale as moonlight, his breathing faint and shallow.
Wang Chen’s brow furrowed. A strange unease settled in his chest.
He’d seen plenty of people on the verge of death before — but this boy was different. It wasn’t just his absurd lifespan. It was the stillness, the faint pulse of something hidden deep within him. Something the heavens themselves seemed to fear.
Still, worry crept into his tone. "You’d better not die on me, kid. I’ve got high hopes for you."
Lin Huang vitality was too drained, he looked nothing more than an empty sack with no hint of life.
it was clear if nothing was done urgently, the young boy might not live for long.
After another long moment, he sighed and rose to his feet. "Fine. I’ll buy a pill for you."
Thankfully he managed to find a good amount of spirit stones yesterday, Otherwise...there was no need to think about such things.
With the decision made, Wang Chen stepped outside the dojo, the morning sun cutting across his face as he headed toward the nearest alchemical shop.