Back to Where It Began

At that moment—

In the hospital ward—

Yang Zitian stared at a photo on his phone—an image captured after Chen Yang's rescue attempt. The bloodied arm, raw and violent, was deeply jarring. As for Li Hu, the man who had clung to Chen Yang's leg and wept—he was already forgotten.

With a flick of his thumb, Yang uploaded the photo to his social feed, accompanied by a caption:

"To me, Brother Chen Yang is like a war god reborn. Ten thousand soldiers would kneel before him. He is my idol."

Understandably—teenagers often revel in grandiose fantasies.

But Tang Jie couldn't swallow his humiliation. Once a dominant figure at school, he had never endured such disgrace.

He opened a drawer.

Inside lay a dagger—old, storied, almost sacred.

"I'm back," he whispered. "I've run into trouble. I hope you can help me intimidate him."

He stood before the drawer for a long while, thoughts echoing in his mind.

Pick it up. You are a force no one dares provoke.

That strange place—so kind, so comforting. Food and lodging are free, and life is carefree. Pick it up. Trust me. This is the key to the hidden world.

Ding.

A notification pinged on his phone.

Tang Jie picked it up, tapped the screen—and froze.

It was that photo.

Chen Yang, standing at the window.

A serene smile on his face.

The bald man kneeling before him.

That blood-soaked arm, bones visible beneath torn flesh.

A single image struck Tang Jie like a bolt of lightning.

Gulp.

His throat bobbed.

Clack!

He slammed the drawer shut—locking away the key to that hidden world forever.

"…I was wrong."

He was just a kid.

He liked bullying classmates, sure.

But standing against this Chen Yang?

Unthinkable.

That eerie smile.

Those clear, unreadable eyes.

That bleeding, broken arm.

Terrifying.

At the hospital—

Lin Fan stood at the entrance. A voice echoed in his mind.

[Mission: Complete.]

[Note: The creator of the Thousand Temperings Method smiles with relief. At last, the 199th heir—Chen Yang—has become a true man.]

[Reward: Thousand Temperings Method (Perfected).]

[Bonus Reward: Qi Cultivation Technique.]

[Next Descent: April 1st.]

[Return.]

A mysterious force pulled Lin Fan's soul upward, into the sky. It was warm—reminiscent of returning to Qingshan Psychiatric Hospital. Peaceful. Familiar.

Then—

Darkness.

No awareness.

Somewhere else—

The real Chen Yang stirred from slumber.

"Who… am I?"

"Where… am I?"

The smile was gone.

The clear gaze faded.

This was Chen Yang himself—not the one guided by Lin Fan.

He looked around, confused.

He remembered falling asleep at home.

But now—he was in a hospital?

He raised his hand instinctively to scratch his head—

"AAAH!"

A jolt of blinding pain exploded through him.

He looked down—his right arm encased in plaster.

He froze.

Then—he screamed. A raw, soul-tearing cry.

"It hurts! It hurts! Mom! Where are you?!"

Qingshan Psychiatric Hospital. Room 666.

Lin Fan awoke. He sat on the edge of the bed. The clock had just struck midnight.

00:01.

"What a curious dream… though a bit short," he murmured.

He lay back down, pulled the covers over himself, and drifted into peaceful sleep, a gentle smile still on his lips.

Yanhai City. Special Division.

At first glance, the building was just another office tower in the commercial district. But within, it held secrets. The security was airtight—ordinary citizens could never pass through.

The Special Division's headquarters occupied the top floor.

Inside, smoke curled through the air. Several powerful figures sat around a large table, examining files.

"The data in front of you is from the Taishan sinkhole incident," said a stern man with a square face and a black eyepatch. "It confirms the presence of a large cluster of malevolent entities moving toward Yanhai."

"This is our moment of reckoning."

One man—dressed in a ceremonial robe, square cap on his head, a sword strapped to his back, and several teeth missing—spoke up with a cackle. "Leave it to us Maoshan folks. We excel at tracking down wicked spirits. Plus, our new academy grads could use some live training."

He was Lin Daoming, a Maoshan elder.

"Nonsense!" barked another elder, this one wearing a Daoist robe and a Hunyuan cap. "You Maoshan upstarts are just knock-offs. That yellow robe you wear? It's a punishment garment. Real Daoists wouldn't be caught dead in it."

Lin Daoming scowled, his beard quivering. "You trying to pick a fight, old man? We're the Maoshan Shangqing sect, not your cheap imitation!"

The Daoist elder sneered. "Sure, Shangqing. Take a look at the academy rankings. You're dead last. Everyone knows you're a joke. Meanwhile, our Daoist Academy is overflowing with talent—we don't even have space for all the applicants."

"Enough!" the eyepatch man thundered. "This matter is bigger than your petty squabbles. Whether Maoshan, Daoist, Buddhist, or Medical sect—if any of you let these evil beings wreak havoc, you'll be packing your bags and handing your post over to someone more competent."

"Meeting adjourned."

Yanhai wasn't a small city—its population was eight million strong.

If malevolent forces roamed freely, the consequences would be catastrophic.

The Special Division had been established for this very reason. Each year, graduates from the nation's elite academies would join—bringing fresh strength and building their battle experience.

The most elite schools?

Maoshan Academy. Daoist Academy. Buddhist Academy. Medical Academy.

The Four Pillars of the Dragon Nation—breeding grounds for future legends.

Next morning.

Old Zhang opened his eyes and saw Lin Fan already sitting up.

As always, he reached into the bedside cabinet for soy milk. Without it, his morning was ruined.

"Drink Sprite!" he barked, tossing a bag of soy milk at Lin Fan.

"Oh!" Lin Fan caught it and gulped it down.

Then he lowered the bag and said casually, "I had a long dream last night. I became someone else. Did a lot of things. Met a lot of classmates… though they were kind of strange."

Old Zhang blinked. Then, with a grumble, "And why didn't you take me with you? We agreed, didn't we? You'd take me along."

"I left in a hurry," Lin Fan said solemnly. "Didn't have time to call you. Next time, I promise."

"You better. Don't lie to me."

Old Zhang's anger faded. He squinted. "Wait… how'd you get fat?"

Lin Fan looked down.

Indeed—

He was suddenly much sturdier. Hardened. Heavier.

Solid muscle—like armor beneath the skin.

(End of Chapter)!