Chapter 9: At Last, the Sun Emerges

Qin Yue stared at the creature before him, speechless—a being that resembled both a serpent and a dragon, its entire body shimmering with a silvery-white hue and a faint, ethereal glow. In all his lifetimes, he had never encountered such a creature.

It stretched some twenty-odd meters long, with a pair of legs sprouting from its belly, its massive serpent head adorned with imposing armor, giving it a fierce and menacing appearance. Two dark red whiskers trailed elegantly from its jaws, and atop its head, two small, palm-sized gray-brown horns curved slightly. Its eyes, surprisingly human, were sharp and penetrating.

With a look of disdain, the creature swallowed Li Ye whole, as if it were nothing, then fixed its sly gaze upon Qin Yue, scrutinizing him for a long moment.

Qin Yue's scalp tingled. This giant beast devoured a man as easily as eating a strip of dried meat...

The old madman barked, “Stare any longer and I’ll give you a beating!”

He then busied himself tidying up the scene, though there was little to be done—Qin Yue had already handled things well, much as he had during his previously feigned death. Still, to leave things untouched felt somehow improper.

Before Qin Yue’s arrival, the old man—over a century in age—hadn’t smiled in years, nearly forgetting how. Few children in the Frozen Abyss ever awakened their bloodline, and of those, fewer still had the resolve to leave everything behind and train under him. For the unwilling, he would gently erase their memories and send them home, quietly awaiting the next fated one.

Everyone wearies in time, let alone someone who had spent a hundred years in a sunless world, endlessly repeating a hopeless task. Yet as the current “old madman,” he didn’t even have the right to complain of exhaustion.

After more than a century, he finally found a prodigy who surpassed all previous generations—Qin Yue, whose perception, cultivation aptitude, and temperament were all unmatched. The old man had wished to nurture him slowly, to spend more time together, cherishing such a rare seedling too much to let him go early.

But Qin Yue’s progress was so rapid, so astonishing, it surpassed the old man’s understanding and capabilities. Keeping him here any longer would only hinder his extraordinary rate of improvement.

The boy was dutiful and deeply respectful, but their master-disciple bond would last only these three short months. If he didn’t send the boy out to train in the world, he risked squandering Qin Yue’s golden years of cultivation—or, worse, fostering a heart too quick to kill, as today, when he’d slain a guard who threatened his loved ones without hesitation.

One killing goes unnoticed, but too many would bring disaster.

Li Ye’s crimes against the women of the Abyss were a rare, exceptional case—even the old man hadn’t foreseen it. But the oppression of the Abyss-dwellers by disciples of the Radiant Sun Sect was a long-standing tradition.

He too, in his youth, had burned with rage watching his kin suffer, wishing to slaughter all the guards in a single outburst. But what would that achieve? It could not change the fate of his people, and might even drag them from the abyss into a deeper hell.

He had seen the outside world—knew what it was. The Radiant Sun Sect stood supreme, ruling over all, controlling the rise and fall of kings and the lifeblood of empires. No one could oppose them. Even if he could lead his people across the endless ice, over the mountains to the world of men, there would be nowhere for them to settle. In all the vast land, not a single patch would grant sanctuary to the people of the Abyss. Reckless action would only doom them all.

Unless… unless one among them could become a power to rival the Radiant Sun Sect itself.

The old madman pondered this, drew a deep breath, and turned to Qin Yue. “Let’s take this chance and have Little White take you out.”

Qin Yue followed his gaze to the great serpent, which lay lazily at the water’s edge after swallowing a man whole.

“Now? How?” he asked. Was he to ride this beast across a thousand miles of frozen wasteland? Truth be told, Qin Yue worried the creature might grow hungry along the way and make a meal of him.

“We’ll take the water route,” said the old madman. “The hidden lake connects to the sea, separated by several completely sealed underground rivers. With your current cultivation, you can hold your breath long enough to cross them.”

Qin Yue looked at the beast with some reluctance. “Perhaps I should just cross the ice alone?”

He hadn’t yet mastered flight, but with his grasp of the Netherworld Escape technique and current cultivation, he reckoned he could make it out in two or three days.

The old man shook his head. “You don’t know the way—it’s easy to get lost, even with a map, and you could run into hunters. They may seem like simple trappers, but at any moment, they can turn into bounty killers…”

The outside world was treacherous, especially the hunters. Though not highly cultivated, their methods were endless and deadly. Even though Qin Yue would have to face such things alone one day, the old man wished to postpone that day as long as possible.

“When you get out, make sure you bask in the sun by the sea, and darken your skin. That won’t happen quickly—be patient, forget your Abyssal heritage...”

Once a man who could go years without speaking to a soul, the old madman now became a nagging retiree, listing one piece of advice after another.

Qin Yue listened intently, never once impatient, nodding all the while.

Finally, the old man handed him a small wooden box. “You’ve never seen daylight out there. Even with your cultivation, your eyes can be hurt by the glare. Wear these until you get used to it.”

Qin Yue opened it and froze—inside was a pair of sunglasses!

For a moment, he wondered if he hadn’t actually crossed worlds, but merely stumbled into some mysterious corner of Earth. Yet on closer inspection, they weren’t quite the same—the lenses looked like black crystal, the frames pure silver, finely polished and engraved with intricate patterns, antique and majestic.

“Qin Yue…” the old madman said, gazing at him, “remember my words: live well out there. As long as you survive, our bloodline survives. Don’t force yourself—no matter what happens, the same rule applies. If you find no opportunity, then marry several beautiful women, pass on our bloodline, and choose the most suitable heir. Tell them who we are.”

Qin Yue, a little sorrowful at first, nearly laughed aloud at this. “Master, is this what you tell everyone you’ve trained, when they leave?”

The old madman nodded. “Yes. If they can survive well in the outside world and ensure our people’s bloodline endures, they can’t be considered failures.”

“Did any of them... ever come back?” Qin Yue asked.

A shadow flickered in the old man’s eyes. “If they lack the power to change our people’s fate, there’s no need to return.”

Qin Yue was silent for a long while, then said, “If the day comes when I find no way to change our people’s fate from outside, I’ll return and take your place as the old madman.”

He knelt and bowed three times, reverently.

The old man’s eyes reddened, and he no longer tried to stop Qin Yue from calling him Master. He helped him up and patted his shoulder gently.

“Good child. Take care of yourself.”

A bittersweet feeling rose in Qin Yue’s heart. He moved forward and embraced the small, frail old man.

Then he turned to the watching serpent. His master had said this was a highly intelligent jiao—a flood dragon—still far from true dragonhood, but already formidable. It had once been rescued from hunters by the old man and had followed him ever since. By rights, it was his master’s spirit beast.

“Little White, take good care of him,” said the old madman.

The jiao glanced at Qin Yue, clearly uninterested in escorting him out by water, but out of respect for the old madman, it glided over and lowered itself.

Qin Yue mounted its neck. A coolness swept over him. The creature must have been cultivated; it gave off only a faint, not unpleasant, fishy scent.

He cast a final glance at the old madman.

The old man waved. “Go on!”

The jiao turned and slipped into the water, swimming toward the heart of the shadowy lake. Qin Yue couldn’t help but look back.

On the pitch-black shore of the Abyssal Lake, the old man stood motionless, gazing after him, like a statue.

…

Qin Yue had underestimated the jiao.

What he thought would take days, the silver jiao accomplished in less than a single day. Only a few sections required him to hold his breath; most of the way was through vast underground rivers.

Some stretches were turbulent, with underground waterfalls dropping over a hundred meters. The jiao sped along the surface, churning up thick mists—as swift as flying, though it did not take to the air.

After passing through two sealed spaces, the jiao paused on a riverbank in a vast cavern, opened its jaws, and spat out Li Ye.

He appeared completely unscathed, just as he had when swallowed—untouched by stomach acid. The jiao even gagged a couple of times, then swept a mass of broken stones over him with its tail, burying the body.

The whole process happened so fast that Qin Yue barely registered it. Did this beast not eat people? It even seemed a little disgusted, spitting the man out—oddly endearing...

They passed through a very unusual area where the bronze disc in Qin Yue’s mind was automatically activated.

Awake, he was drawn into the world of the bronze giant rat, a primeval beast whose agitation shook the heavens. Its every movement exuded the power of endless laws, its trajectory near to the Dao itself.

Qin Yue watched, entranced, and in that moment, comprehended a new method of combat!

Though the ancient voice did not sound this time, he truly understood and mastered the technique, rehearsing it in his mind and marveling at its power.

Even with his consciousness drawn into this spiritual world, Qin Yue sensed the jiao’s nervousness—its movements cautious, as if terrified of disturbing something.

In a daze, he seemed to see a vast creature bound by countless chains, imprisoned deep beneath the frozen earth of this region. Its form was indistinct, only its massive outline perceivable—yet it reminded him of the bronze giant rat.

Qin Yue was awed. Could there be an ancient being chained beneath this endless ice? Might it be connected to his arrival in this world?

After they passed this area, nothing further interrupted their journey. The jiao carried him straight to the depths of the sea.

At last, in a secluded spot, it surfaced.

Though Qin Yue had donned the sunglasses in advance, the sudden sunlight dazzled him, his eyes streaming with tears.

The jiao brought him to shore. He offered it a formal bow of gratitude, not expecting any response.

But then, a clear young woman’s voice echoed in his mind: “This is as far as I go. Follow the mountain range south, and you will enter the world of men. Do not disappoint your master’s hopes.”

Without waiting for a reply, the jiao turned gracefully and slipped into the blue sea, vanishing from sight.

Standing in the long-missed sunlight, the world empty and silent about him, Qin Yue felt suddenly lost and adrift.

He summoned his spiritual power, drying his wet clothes, then looked up at the sun—larger here than in the world he once knew. Though his eyes stung and watered, he did not look away. Gradually, he felt himself come alive again.

After three months in this world, he had finally seen daylight.

He took from his waterproof rat-skin pouch the map his master had given him, checked his bearings, and set out along the coastline, step by step, toward the realm of men.

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Out of the Frozen Abyss at last—the real story is about to begin. If you have votes or recommendations, please help out. Early support is vital for the new book’s future. Thank you!