Chen stood frozen, his breath lodged in his throat.
The massive dragon towering before him defied imagination—each of its seven heads coiled in restrained fury, each scdiating a deadly darkness. But what truly shocked him were the chains.
Thick, ancient chains wrapped around the dragon's colossal body, pulsating with streams of dark qi. That energy wasn't empowering—it was eating away at the creature, burning through its flesh like slow poison.
Who… could bind such a beast?
Before he could fully process the sight, the dragon let out a heavy, world-shaking breath. The void around them trembled.
"It has been ages since any human walked into this place…"
The dragon's voice rumbled like thunder, echoing in Chen's skull.
"Tell me—are you the chosen Dark Divine Emperor?"
A shiver raced through Chen's spine. Just that breath, just that voice, carried more power than anything he had ever felt. The dragon's aura was overwhelming—so vast that Chen couldn't even begin to comprehend its limits.
"Dark Divine Emperor?" Chen repeated, confused. "What does that even mean?"
The dragon lowered one of its heads, its blazing red eyes examining him.
Chen felt as though those eyes could see straight through his body, into his bones, into his soul.
Then the dragon's gaze stopped at Chen's hand—the place where the sword mark pulsed faintly.
"So… you carry his mark," the dragon muttered. "That means you are the successor."
It snorted, a wave of heat rolling through the void.
"But you are pitifully weak. Your path ahead is long… and cruel. If you wish to reach your destiny, you must walk it alone. No one will help you."
Chen swallowed.
Destiny? Successor? Emperor?
"Just tell me this," Chen said, frustration leaking into his voice. "Who is the Dark Divine Emperor? And what does it mean to be his successor?"
The dragon's eyes narrowed.
"That… you must discover yourself. No one can answer it for you."
Its voice turned colder.
"And remember—never allow the darkness to take over you. Once it dominates your heart… even fate will not save you."
Then, without warning, the dragon vanished—leaving Chen standing alone in the silent void.
Chen stared into the darkness, overwhelmed by more questions than answers.
Dark Divine Emperor… successor… destiny… what does any of this mean?
He exhaled, forcing his mind to clear, and began exploring the towering shelves of techniques around him. But to his disappointment, every scroll he touched was merely Foundation-level.
He had expected ancient, heaven-defying techniques.
Still—something was better than nothing.
So he sat down and began practicing.
Time blurred.
Hours melted into days without him realizing.
In those two days, Chen mastered two techniques:
Dark Void Body Refining Art — a brutal refining method that strengthened the body using dark qi.
And
Darkness Qi Sword — a skill allowing him to form a blade purely from his qi.
The drawback, however, was steep—its consumption of qi was immense.
Luckily, Chen's body constantly absorbed spiritual energy, filling him back up almost instantly.
During this period, he also discovered something else:
The Dark Divine Library had multiple floors, and he could only access the floor corresponding to his cultivation level. As he broke through each realm, he would rise—literally—ascending into higher levels of the floating library.
Suddenly, reality snapped back to him.
He blinked, returning from the void state.
Only an hour had passed outside.
One hour.
He had been gone for two days in the void.
Chen realized this place operated differently—time moved slower in the real world.
Even more shocking—simply from practicing the techniques, he had risen to the Third Stage of Foundation Establishment.
But all that cultivation left a heavy hunger gnawing at him. His mental energy was nearly exhausted.
Chen walked out for dinner.
Xiang looked at him and immediately noticed something different.
"My son… you look so full of energy today. Stay like this. Always be happy."
Warmth spread through Chen's chest.
He wrapped his arms around his mother and whispered, voice soft yet firm,
"Mother… your happiness is my happiness. If you suffer, I suffer. I'll protect you—no matter what happens."
Xiang's throat tightened as she hugged him back, tears welling.
"My son… you are my life, and I am yours. Remember that. Your joy matters more to me than my own."
Chen spent a long time just talking with her—something he never got to do in his previous life.
Work and qingmei had consumed everything. He had forgotten what it felt like to sit with his mother, to hold her, to feel safe.
That night, he fell asleep in his mother's arms, her scent calming the storm in his heart.
---
● Meanwhile, in a distant mansion…
In an enormous room, Feng Xinhao lay unconscious—his breathing shallow, bones cracked and broken.
When Mr. Feng saw his son's condition, rage erupted inside him.
"Who did this to my son?!"
The assistant bowed deeply.
"Sir… it was Ye Chen. From the Ye family."
Mr. Feng frowned.
"Ye Chen? But the Ye family—"
The assistant continued quickly,
"The Ye family doesn't acknowledge him. They have already thrown him and his mother out. They live alone now."
A slow, cruel smile spread across Mr. Feng's face.
"Good. Then there is nothing to worry about."
He clenched his fists.
"How dare that boy harm my son? He will pay for this… with his life."