Chapter 234: Lin Huang situation
Wang Chen knew Mu Huyan wasn’t happy with his decisions, but there was nothing he could do about it. For him, coming to the upper realm was no longer a matter of choice—it had become something he had to do, an inevitable step carved into the path ahead.
Lost in those thoughts, he paid no attention to the immortal cultivators around him. Their auras, their glances, the weight of status and might—all of it faded into the background. The only thing he focused on was finding the faint, elusive aura of the Doom Clock.
For a moment, the entire world vanished from Wang Chen’s perception. The golden clouds, the towering pillars of power, the distant hum of the sects—all dissolved into darkness, as if someone had drawn a curtain over reality. The world turned dark as night, the silence pressing in on all sides. Remaining unfazed, Wang Chen pushed forward, his senses sharpening like a blade being drawn from its sheath.
Time continued to pass.
Just when he began to wonder if Lin Huang might be too far away—perhaps even beyond the reach of his perception—his heart suddenly jolted. At the very border of his awareness, he detected it: the faint, unmistakable aura of the Doom Clock.
It was extremely far away—so far that he could barely comprehend the distance. The world he had come from was already vast beyond measure; even then, he had never fully grasped its scale. And now, to think that Lin Huang was somewhere at the edge of that edge... the mere concept felt like trying to grasp the horizon with bare hands.
He let out a slow breath, the tension in his chest easing slightly.
After another moment’s concentration, he let out a quiet sigh of relief. Lin Huang didn’t appear to be in any immediate danger. The subtle pulse of the Doom Clock told him that his friend was safe and sound, albeit impossibly distant.
Yet, even knowing that, Wang Chen still felt uneasy.
He stared into the darkness within his mind, a faint crease forming between his brows. With the limited feedback he had received from the Doom Clock, he could confirm that Lin Huang was far away, but otherwise unharmed. And yet, some instinct in the back of his mind refused to settle.
Why am I still worried?
The question lingered, unanswered.
...
The upper realm was divided into ten vast sectors, each ruled by one of the top ten superpowers. The Morning Glory Divine Alchemical Sect stood as the absolute master of the Alchemy Heaven Sector—a domain famed for its endless fields of rare alchemical ingredients and its divine alchemists, who could shape life and fate through the flames of their cauldrons.
Beneath the sect stretched a web of smaller powers, each governing their own territories and boundaries. Yet all of them, without exception, recognized the Morning Glory Divine Alchemical Sect as the true overlord. To oppose it was to invite annihilation.
The Ancient Sentinental Sect was one of those high‑grade powers, ranked just below the Morning Glory Divine Alchemical Sect. Within one deceptively simple courtyard, an old man dressed in plain white robes sat quietly, reading through an ancient parchment that looked as if it had survived countless ages. The material was pale and brittle, the ink faded but still legible, carrying secrets that outlived the authors who had written them.
Compared to the deep wrinkles etched across his skin, the old man’s eyes were unnervingly deep—like a bottomless pond, still and unruffled. There was no ripple, no flicker of emotion, as if nothing in this world could truly disturb the calm that lay beneath the surface of his gaze.
A few minutes later, the old man’s gaze drifted toward the outer disciple quarters.
His eyes pierced through hundreds of kilometers of distance without effort, the way a needle slides through silk, until they settled on the figure of an extremely handsome young man practicing his sword alone in an open courtyard. Every movement the young man made was exquisite — fluid and unhurried, each arc of the blade carrying a subtle resonance that seemed to hum in quiet agreement with the very fabric of the world around him. Leaves drifted nearby without falling. The air itself seemed to curve slightly, as if unwilling to interrupt.
The old man then shifted his gaze a few meters to the side, where a young girl sat with her eyes closed, her breathing slow and even, her posture as still as carved jade.
If Wang Chen were to see these two figures, he would have recognized them instantly.
These two were none other than his disciple, Lin Huang, and his grand-disciple, Zhao Yunfei.
"Even after knowing the sect master’s intentions... this young man still refuses to become his disciple."
The old man murmured it quietly to himself, more as an observation than a complaint.
The Ancient Sentinental Sect’s sect master stood at the Eternal Emperor realm — a height so staggering that most cultivators spent entire lifetimes dreaming of merely catching a glimpse of it. To be personally accepted as a disciple by such a figure was an honor people would shatter mountains for, an opportunity that came once in a thousand generations at best. Yet when the offer had been extended to that young man, he had responded with nothing more than a calm, almost indifferent shake of his head.
He already had a master.
Those words had stirred more curiosity in the old man than he had expected.
"Could his master be someone above the Eternal Emperor realm...?"
The thought flickered into his mind like a candle catching flame. But the moment it surfaced, the old man hurriedly shook his head, suppressing it.
No. If that were the case, I would not have been able to bring them here in the first place.
A cultivator of that caliber would have left traces — impressions so deep in the fabric of fate that even someone like Long Baishan would have sensed them. There had been nothing. Just two young people from the lower realm, adrift and unguarded, carrying potential that had no business belonging to anyone that far below.
This white-haired old man was Long Baishan, Grand Elder of the Ancient Sentinental Sect. It had been he who visited the Seven Cloud Convergence World not long ago, and it was there that he sensed something that made even his composed heart skip — Lin Huang’s terrifying grand potential, vast and barely contained, like an ocean crammed into a cup. Without hesitation, he had brought both of them to the upper realm himself.
If nothing unexpected happened, Lin Huang would reach the Eternal Emperor realm at the very least.
At the very least.
Just as these thoughts settled in his mind, the sound of heavy footsteps reached the edge of his perception. A few outer sect members in uniform came barging into Lin Huang’s courtyard without ceremony, their voices loud and their manner carrying the particular arrogance of people who had never once been told no.
Long Baishan’s expression didn’t change.
But the corner of his lips curled upward, just barely — a faint, teasing glint catching in his deep, pond-like eyes.
He leaned back slightly and continued watching.
Let’s see how you handle this, young man.