SSS-Rank 10x Reward System: Accepting Disciples to Live Forever-Chapter 206: Dream Of Eternal Dragon

Demon Queen Zi Han’s figure suddenly came to a halt.

Wang Chen stopped as well, his sleeves swaying slightly before settling back into stillness. Without hesitation, his Divine Sense expanded outward like a silent tide.

In an instant, an area spanning more than forty kilometers unfolded clearly within his perception. Every crack in the scorched earth, every fluctuation in the qi currents, every faint tremor beneath the ground—nothing escaped him.

They had descended deep.

So deep that sunlight no longer reached this place.

The air was thick and stale, heavy with the scent of cooled magma and ancient heat. Darkness pressed in from all directions, broken only by scattered chunks of molten rock embedded in the terrain. Those rocks glowed faintly, like dying embers or fireflies struggling to survive their final moments.

The silence was oppressive.

Hmm.

What is this force pressing against me?

He narrowed his eyes.

There was resistance.

Subtle at first. Like invisible fingers brushing against the edges of his Divine Sense.

It felt... wrong.

Spatial disruption?

Just as he pushed further, his Divine Sense abruptly struck something solid.

Clang.

It felt as though it had collided with an iron sheet. Not physical metal, but something conceptually rigid—an invisible wall that refused to yield.

He probed again.

Same result.

A formation.

A large one.

From the moment they stopped to now, less than a second had passed.

But for cultivators of their level, a second was an eternity of analysis. Their minds ran at terrifying speeds, dissecting and reconstructing reality in microscopic intervals.

In that brief span of time, both Wang Chen and Zi Han had completed their scans.

Zi Han slowly turned her head to look at him.

Her eyes were solemn.

"The path ahead is completely blocked, Fellow Daoist," she said calmly. "If we wish to proceed, there is no other option but to use One Thought to Cross the World."

Wang Chen gave a slight nod.

He had reached the same conclusion.

Physical traversal was impossible.

The formation was not merely a barrier; it was layered into space itself. Walking forward would only result in endlessly circling the same point.

They would have to bypass it.

Zi Han inhaled softly.

The aura of One Thought to Cross the World erupted from her body—not violently, but with controlled precision. The space around her distorted, rippling like water struck by a blade. Microfractures appeared along invisible seams, trembling under her authority.

Wang Chen watched carefully.

Her control was exquisite.

Even now, he could admit that in terms of technique, she surpassed him.

Just as she was about to complete the spatial fold—

Ring.

A sharp resonance vibrated through the underground void.

Wang Chen’s pupils contracted.

The darkness around them suddenly ignited.

Lines.

Countless lines.

Runic engravings flared to life in every direction, stretching across the cavern walls, across the ground, across the air itself. They were not carved into stone—they were etched into space.

Ancient symbols glowed in cold crimson light, interlocking and overlapping, forming a vast lattice that enclosed the entire area.

Each rune pulsed with restrained power.

Each line locked onto the fluctuations of Zi Han’s movement technique.

The rippling space froze mid-distortion.

The microfractures sealed instantly.

The formation had activated.

It had been waiting.

Specifically for this.

Zi Han’s expression changed.

Just slightly.

But Wang Chen saw it.

This was not a simple defensive barrier.

It was a counter-teleportation array.

Placed here deliberately to prevent anyone from using spatial movement techniques.

To trap.

Or perhaps—

To screen.

Wang Chen’s gaze sharpened.

They had not stumbled upon this by accident.

This depth.

This location.

This formation.

It was too precise.

The glowing runes hummed softly, tightening like a net drawn closed.

For the first time since entering the underground convergence zone, Wang Chen felt it clearly.

They were no longer just exploring.

They had stepped into someone else’s prepared ground.

However, under Wang Chen’s steady gaze, Zi Han stepped forward as if nothing existed in her way.

The dense lattice of runes, the spatial bindings that locked reality itself in place, parted around her like obedient mist. There was no resistance, no backlash, not even the slightest tremor. Her figure slipped through the sealed space cleanly, as if the formation had never been there at all.

Wang Chen’s eyes narrowed slightly.

So this is what she meant when she said One Thought to Cross the World would safely take them inside.

The realization settled quietly in his mind.

He followed soon after.

As Wang Chen began circulating the technique, the oppressive pressure clamped around his body loosened bit by bit. The invisible bindings that had earlier felt like chains wrapped around his existence now softened, turning pliable and fluid.

If earlier it had felt like swimming upstream against a raging current, every movement demanding immense effort, now it felt entirely different. The flow of space itself seemed to guide him forward, carrying him along rather than resisting him.

Even so, Wang Chen frowned.

Something about this still felt wrong.

He did not slow his steps, but his thoughts sharpened. Without hesitation, he sent a strand of Divine Sense toward Mo Huyan.

"Nether Empress," he transmitted calmly, though his doubt was clear, "are you truly certain this is nothing more than a replica? Just the fact that entry requires a high-grade movement art like One Thought to Cross the World already feels excessive."

His reasoning was simple.

If these Dragon Race Inheritance Grounds were merely bait—tools meant to lure in as many cultivators as possible and turn them into nourishment—then why erect such strict filters? The more accessible the entrance, the greater the harvest should be.

The contradiction bothered him.

A faint sigh echoed in his mind, tinged with something between exasperation and resignation.

"Just how narrow-minded can you be?" Mo Huyan’s voice replied, unhurried but sharp. "Do you truly believe you and that woman are the only ones who know One Thought to Cross the World?"

Her tone carried a quiet authority.

"Even if the number is small, do not forget this," she continued. "There are six other ways to enter. When the cycle begins, the number of cultivators who make it inside is never insignificant."

Wang Chen’s brows drew closer together as he listened.

Mo Huyan did not pause.

"And more importantly," she added, her voice lowering slightly, "you seem to have forgotten the true nature of dragons. They were not merely greedy and arrogant. They valued quality far more than quantity."

Her words struck deeper this time.

"All these restrictions exist for a single purpose," she said. "To filter the trash from true geniuses. Only then does the harvest become worthwhile."

There was a brief silence.

Then her voice returned, slower now, carrying an unfamiliar weight.

"Just look at yourself. Barely at the Nascent Soul Realm, yet you have already begun brushing against Authorities."

At that moment, Wang Chen felt it.

A subtle shift in her tone.

Not admiration. Not fear.

But recognition.

Mo Huyan fell silent for a heartbeat, her expression turning solemn even within the darkness of the Thousand Soul Flag.

"It seems," she finally concluded, "whatever scheme the Dragon Race left behind... it is still functioning exactly as intended."

Wang Chen did not respond immediately.

He continued moving forward alongside Zi Han, the sealed space yielding before him, but his thoughts had grown heavier.

If even replicas demanded such standards...

Then what kind of existences were truly meant to reach the end?

Just at that moment, Zi Han’s voice came from ahead.

"Fellow Daoist Wang—"

She did not finish.

Her figure vanished.

One instant she was there, standing a few steps ahead, the next she was gone as if erased from the canvas of reality itself.

"Damn!"

The word slipped from Wang Chen before he could stop it.

Rationally, he knew this was likely the final teleportation into the so-called Inheritance Ground. That was the most logical explanation.

But logic did nothing to suppress the cold chill that shot through his spine.

He had not sensed spatial fluctuation.

He had not sensed hostile intent.

He had not sensed anything at all.

She was simply... gone.

Before his thoughts could settle, his expression changed again.

Something was touching him.

No—

Wrapping around him.

A cold, creeping force brushed against his body, subtle at first, then tightening. It felt like threads spun from invisible silk, layering over his limbs, his torso, his consciousness itself.

Spider threads.

Wang Chen tried to move.

Tried to analyze.

But before he could fully grasp what was happening, his perception shifted violently.

The world folded.

Twisted.

Compressed into a thin line of light.

And then—

Darkness.

His figure disappeared from the center of the Seven Cloud Converged World.

...

When sensation returned, it came in fragments.

Cold wind.

A biting, dry cold that cut across his face like tiny blades.

The crunch of frost beneath his boots.

Wang Chen opened his eyes slowly.

"Is this the Dragon Race Inheritance Ground?"

His voice came out low, controlled, though a faint tension lingered beneath it.

He stood in what appeared to be a vast frozen desert.

Endless white stretched in every direction, dunes of snow shaped by relentless winds. The sky above was pale and colorless, heavy with unmoving clouds. The air was thin and sharp, carrying a chill that seeped through skin and bone.

In the far distance, a few wild beasts—creatures resembling frost wolves—had been startled by his sudden appearance. They fled quickly, their forms dissolving into the blizzard haze.

Wang Chen narrowed his eyes.

This place was cold.

Beautiful in a barren way.

But where was the majesty?

Where were the towering dragon bones?

The seas of flame?

The ancient palaces carved from scales and crystal?

This felt...Empty.

He suppressed his doubts for now.

Speculation without information was useless.

First, assess the surroundings.

Instinctively, he expanded his Divine Sense.

Or at least—

He tried to.

Nothing happened.

He pushed harder.

Still nothing.

His expression froze.

"My divine sense... it’s gone."

The realization struck like a hammer.

He immediately checked inward.

Spiritual Space..

His Nascent Soul.

Silence.

No qi circulation.

No Eternal Flame.

No sense of cultivation at all.

Even the faintest trace of spiritual fluctuation was absent.

His face darkened instantly.

Not only his Divine Sense—

His cultivation itself had vanished.

For a fleeting moment, panic rose.

A cultivator stripped of cultivation inside a mysterious Dragon Race Inheritance Ground was no different from a mortal thrown into a battlefield.

But before that panic could fully bloom, a calm, plain voice echoed within his mind.

"Hmm."

A pause.

"This is indeed the domain of one of the Seven Dragons."

Another breath.

"The Eternal Dragon of Dream."

Wang Chen’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Mo Huyan.

Even now, she sounded composed.

Dream?

His gaze swept across the frozen wasteland again.

The biting wind.

The pale sky.

The empty horizon.

If this was a dream—

Then it was far too coherent.

Far too vivid.

Or perhaps...

That was precisely the point.