Tian yuan

**Alchemy Dao Sect, Soul Lamp Hall.**  

Dong Wenjun stood before the rekindled soul lamp, his calloused fingers gently tracing the name engraved on its base—**Chen Qingyuan**. A century’s worth of dust was wiped away, revealing gilded characters that shimmered faintly under the dim lamplight.  

*"Little brother…"* Dong Wenjun’s voice trembled slightly, his eyes reflecting disbelief.  

A hundred years ago, the ill-fated expedition into the **Abyss** had left the Alchemy Dao Sect in ruins. Thirteen elders and forty-six core disciples—none had returned. As the soul lamps extinguished one after another, the entire sect had been plunged into mourning. **Chen Qingyuan**, the last disciple personally taken in by the late Supreme Elder, had been mourned most bitterly by his senior brothers.  

*"Master, should we inform the Sect Leader and the other elders immediately?"* A core disciple behind him asked cautiously.  

Dong Wenjun took a deep breath, suppressing the surge of emotions in his chest. *"Not yet. The lamp has reignited, but the flame is weak—meaning Qingyuan’s condition is unstable. Prepare the flying vessel. I’ll go to the Abyss myself."*  

---  

**Three days later.**  

A flying vessel emblazoned with the insignia of the Alchemy Dao Sect tore through the sky, heading straight for the outskirts of the **Abyss**, a forbidden zone shrouded in mystery.  

At the bow stood Dong Wenjun, his white beard fluttering wildly in the wind. Behind him stood twelve elite disciples, all wearing solemn expressions. The Abyss was infamous—even its periphery was fraught with danger.  

*"Master, ahead is the Black Mist Forest. Beyond it lies the entrance to the Abyss,"* said Zhao Yichuan, the head disciple, pointing toward an expanse of pitch-black woods.  

Dong Wenjun narrowed his eyes and suddenly raised his hand, signaling the vessel to halt. *"There’s someone there!"*  

Following his gaze, the group spotted a figure beneath an ancient tree at the forest’s edge—a man in green robes, lazily reclining with a blade of grass between his teeth, basking in the sunlight.  

That posture, that demeanor—Dong Wenjun would recognize it anywhere.  

*"Qingyuan!"* he exclaimed, leaping from the vessel and landing before the tree in a few strides.  

Chen Qingyuan cracked open one eye and grinned upon seeing him. *"Well, well, Senior Brother Dong. A hundred years, and your beard’s gotten even longer."*  

Dong Wenjun froze, his eyes reddening. His hands trembled as he reached out, afraid this might be an illusion. *"Is it… really you?"*  

*"In the flesh."* Chen Qingyuan sat up languidly, brushing grass off his robes. *"I’m honored you came all this way to fetch me."*  

*"You brat!"* Finally convinced this was no illusion, Dong Wenjun pulled Chen Qingyuan into a bone-crushing embrace. *"A hundred years! We thought you were dead!"*  

Chen Qingyuan wheezed, turning red. *"Easy there, Senior Brother! I’m not as sturdy as I used to be."*  

Dong Wenjun released him, studying his face closely—then his expression darkened. *"Your cultivation…"*  

*"Gone."* Chen Qingyuan spread his hands, feigning nonchalance. *"The Abyss is a nasty place. Just surviving was a miracle."*  

Dong Wenjun’s face tightened. He grasped Chen Qingyuan’s wrist, sending a thread of spiritual energy into his meridians. A moment later, his expression turned grim. *"Dried-up dantian, blocked meridians… not even Foundation Establishment-level energy remains…"*  

*"Like I said, survival’s enough."* Chen Qingyuan chuckled, withdrawing his hand. *"No need for that look. I can always rebuild my cultivation."*  

Dong Wenjun exhaled deeply. *"We’ll discuss this back at the sect. The Sect Leader will be overjoyed to see you."*  

---  

• **Aboard the flying vessel**, the disciples stole curious glances at the legendary *"Little Uncle-Master"*. After the tragedy a century ago, Chen Qingyuan’s name had become taboo in the Alchemy Dao Sect. None had expected him to return from the Abyss—a place rumored to **swallow all who enter**.  

Yet here he was, alive.