Chapter 29 The Endless Abyss Dragon

Chapter 29 The Endless Abyss Dragon

Jing Rong picked up the iron sword lying in the wilderness.

A subtitle appeared before him: "Iron Sword, Attack Power 20. A nameless sword abandoned in the wilderness. Dull - might shatter after a few strikes."

System 626: "Damn, what is this?"

Jing Rong surveyed his surroundings.

The vast, dark expanse was dotted with shallow ponds. Before him stretched endless rolling hills covered in patchy grass, with windmills and towns nestled between the mountains.

Jing Rong wiped the rust off the iron sword with the edge of his cloak, waiting for 626's search results.

Half a minute later, 626 said, "This world is from a large-scale multiplayer online adventure game called *Sword and Abyss*. In this world, all players assume different roles, form teams to challenge world bosses, and earn reputation points and top-tier equipment."

"In this world, the max level is 100. The map you're currently on is called Windmill Town, a max-level village."

Jing Rong absorbed the lore 626 transmitted to him, nodded and opened his character profile to take a look.

In this world, he retained his original appearance: jet-black hair and eyes.

His race was human—an extremely ordinary, even surprisingly rare choice.

When leaving the previous world, Jing Rong had hoped to find his lover in the Great World. But to both his and 626's surprise, Jue's soul was not listed among the souls in the Great World.

This meant Jue's soul had even more mysterious origins and fate. He might even be a soul previously confirmed as deceased.

Where such a soul would go, not even the inhabitants of the Great World would know.

But Jing Rong had all the time in the world. He'd personally marked that soul. As long as the mark existed, they would meet again.

"Your storyline has been specially created. You are a warrior who traveled here years ago and lived in seclusion, running a small herbal shop in Windmill Town."

"Seclusion?" Jing Rong keenly picked up on the keywords.

626 said, "It fits your style, but this time it wasn't your choice. You were abandoned by your original team."

"You once belonged to the world's top warrior team, but they dumped you in a swamp years ago."

Jing Rong frowned. "Why?"

In the eyes of Executive Jing Rong, this was a question worth asking. In the Great World, no one would ever doubt the wisdom of cooperating with him. This was the first time he'd encountered such a situation.

626 said, "Hmm... let me check. The exact reason isn't clear, but one thing's for sure—it's because you're a weak human. In the team's expeditions, humans heal slowly, are prone to injury, are slow..."

Actually, the human race's setting in this game might be even more blatant.

Humans: delicate, fair-skinned beauties, soft, easily injured, and possessing unparalleled beauty.

This was usually a setting reserved for slaves, not warriors.

After scanning the situation, Jing Rong said, "Got it."

626 asked, "Anything you want tweaked with mods? I can offer that service, you know."

Jing Rong replied, "No changes needed for now."

He was quite satisfied with this world's lore and his identity.

626: "...Didn't expect that, buddy." It silently gave Jing Rong a thumbs-up for his taste.

The quiet night was filled with the faint, soft chirps of insects. Jing Rong found some discarded equipment and low-level materials in the wilderness and collected them all before heading down the mountain and entering Windmill Town.

Though it was late at night, the town was still lively. The streets were filled with young warriors buying equipment and roaming about.

Jing Rong's herbal shop was nestled in an inconspicuous spot along the street. It had two floors: the first was a weathered but tidy storefront, while the second was a small loft for crafting potions and resting.

Jing Rong opened the door and lit the wall lamp.

Warm yellow light filled the little shop.

Soon, a passing warrior knocked on the door. "Hello, shopkeeper. Are you still open?"

Jing Rong casually set down the equipment, barely glancing up. "Prices are by the door."

"Got it."

The warrior quickly approached, but strangely, he didn't start shopping. Instead, he stared at Jing Rong with an odd look.

Meanwhile, his teammates behind him were carefully examining the price list.

"Why only basic and advanced herbs? This is a max-level town. Who even sells these anymore?"

This was a team decked out in gold.

The team's healer voiced his disbelief—he was holding a staff as radiant as frost, the world's top-tier healer staff: *Breath of Life*.

Jing Rong's gaze scanned each of their faces before he said casually, "If you're not buying, I'm closing up."

His voice was light, steady, carrying an otherworldly calm that was naturally commanding.

The team leader, however, remained silent, studying Jing Rong's character profile.

"Jing Rong, Human Warrior, LV100"

Weapon: Rusted Iron Sword, Attack Power 20.

Equipment: Ordinary Hunter's Garb, Defense 1.

HP: 10

Strength: Unknown"

10 HP - one hit from a spoon would finish him.

The warrior: "............"

After a beat, the warrior said in a low voice, "After all this time, you're still at these numbers, Jing Rong?"

Jing Rong arched a brow. "Oh?"

626 sensed trouble: "Oh? This should be good. The story's finding you already?"

626 continued, "Leonhardt, the world's top warrior. He voted in favor of kicking you out of the team back then. Talk about bad luck."

Jing Rong assessed the team before him.

Celestials, power-built warriors. Their attack power and armor-piercing had been boosted to insane levels.

The Priest, with astonishing healing capabilities. A Chanter for support, plus a massive Shieldbearer and a Mage.

A perfectly standard composition for a golden team.

Jing Rong had just reviewed the world's records half an hour ago and knew that this team originally had two Warrior slots—one of which was his.

The reason a frail human could remain in the team for so long was simple.

This team had been founded by Jing Rong himself.

In his free time, he enjoyed taking on cooperative, ordinary quests, including helping young, inexperienced warriors. Some of the more capable ones chose to stay, and Jing Rong casually formed a team.

Yet, in the end, he was the one who got kicked out.

626 said, "Damn, that’s harsh, Exec."

Jing Rong himself had little interest in major quests, and his departure from the team left no impression on him: "They kicked me out?"

626 explained, "They never spelled it out back then. They just left you behind during a swamp dungeon run and gradually cut ties afterward."

Jing Rong replied, "I see."

Now that they’d crossed paths again, the others showed no remorse—if anything, they acted defensive, almost guilty, about this run-in.

The Warrior’s gaze still swept over him critically. "You’re max level already. You should focus on doing something meaningful—at least upgrade your defense and strength stats. A guy like you is a walking target in a max-level zone. Even the weakest field mobs could kill you."

Jing Rong lifted his eyes, the corner of his lips quirking faintly without meaning. "Sure thing."

"Whatever. The guy’s a disgrace to the Warrior name," the Priest muttered, tugging at the Warrior’s sleeve. "Real fighters are out there slaying monsters… and this guy’s hiding in town. Pathetic. Don’t even bother!"

Jing Rong’s gaze flickered briefly toward the Priest but remained silent.

Priest Sotu, an Elf, healing class.

Sotu didn’t know Jing Rong personally, but he’d heard rumors about a deadweight Warrior who once held back the world’s top team. He’d always wondered what kind of person could drag down even the strongest.

Yet when those pitch-black eyes turned toward him, his heart skipped a beat.

Eyes of that color were rare. Sotu’s 200K beauty stat topped the global charts—earning him the title "Every Warrior’s Dream Healer." He swore no one out-charmed him.

But the black-haired guy in front of him… was downright gorgeous.

Human beauty at its finest—jet-black hair, dark eyes, pale skin, a slender frame. Cold as winter frost, yet with a magnetic pull—austere but… impossible to ignore.

"Why… are you looking at me?" Sotu’s heart pounded. He raised his voice, as if to mask something. "FYI, I’m already partnered with Reinhardt—the top Warrior worldwide!"

Jing Rong tilted his head slightly and averted his gaze.

His face blindness meant studying every face, hunting for recognition.

Yet even after twenty years, with Windmill Town being a mandatory stop for max-level players, he still hadn’t met a single person he found beautiful.

This guy had endgame gear but was just some dude’s plus-one.

Jing Rong asked politely, "So, herbs or not? I’m closing shop."

Sotu cringed at his own awkwardness. Blushing, he slapped gold on the counter and grabbed every low-tier herb in sight.

Jing Rong was used to this routine. As 626 put it, he "wouldn’t waste a single brainwave on them."

Jing Rong pocketed the cash, saw them out, locked up, and flopped into his recliner.

He spun a few glittering gems between his fingers, holding them up to the light.

The folks here were plain, but the loot? Top-tier. The gems’ refraction and density were rare finds—not one-of-a-kind, but close.

He stashed them in a warehouse vault and turned the key.

"Cheers to our first day here."

Jing Rong tucked the key into his bag and asked 626, "Drinks on me?"

626 cheered, "Yes! I could use one. To kicking back in this world, buddy."

It remembered this was R&R time.

Jing Rong nodded. "No problem."

Windmill Town’s sole 24/7 tavern…

Dungeon divers swung by for booze, dailies, or gossip.

Jing Rong slipped in unnoticed.

Only the tavern owner noticed him, handing off his tasks to an assistant before approaching. "Haven’t seen you in ages. Usual order?"

"Two Frostbrewed Greens."

Jing Rong placed silver coins on the counter with a polite smile.

The barkeep didn’t bat an eye at two drinks. He mixed and chatted, "You vanished for a bit. People figured you got got while foraging. Can’t blame ’em—you’re the town’s only zero-DPS Warrior… No judgment."

Jing Rong replied, "None taken. Appreciate it."

"We need more folks like you," the owner said, shaking his head at the rowdy crowd across the room. "All they want is to grind and power up, missing life’s little joys… Frostbrews are up. Cheers."

Jing Rong sipped. Fire in his throat, then a wave of barley sweetness.

626 gulped down a mouthful. "Hell yeah, this slaps."

They camped outside, dodging the crowd.

Jing Rong swirled his glass as the same team that bought herbs earlier entered the tavern, mobbed by fans, drowned in cheers.

"Put your hands up for the world’s top squad! Tonight’s all yours! The girls are fawning, the guys are jealous—it’s all for the Warriors!"

"Ten days back, they downed the Wild Mud Colossus world boss—smashing a thousand-year record!"

"Look at their weapons! The finest in the world—Breath of Life, Proof of Valor… Never seen gear this insane!"

The crowd went wild. Doves got loose, toppling a champagne stack. The drummer whooped, jumping into a hype track.

A buzzed Reinhardt was riding high. His eyes landed on the top of the tavern’s bulletin board.

Nine world boss first kills down, one to go.

Next up: an even bigger, tougher—but way juicier—quest loomed.

Reinhardt vaulted effortlessly over tables and chairs, his strong arms raised high for all to see as he claimed the quest that no one had dared to accept for thousands of years.

Amid the crowd’s eager eyes, Reinhardt’s eyes burned with excitement: "We’re going to slay the World Dragon! I will become the greatest hero in the world!"

The moment these words were spoken, the entire tavern went dead silent for a heartbeat before erupting into even louder cheers!

A system alert also flashed in the world channel.

"Reinhardt’s Hero Party has accepted the quest: Slay the World Dragon. Quest Difficulty: Legendary Seven-Star."

The world chat exploded.

"Holy shit, a hero’s party has finally decided to take on the World Dragon! That’s a quest no one has completed in three thousand years! Whoever accomplishes this will truly be the world’s greatest champion!"

"I believe they can do it! They’re the best hero party to date!"

"What are we waiting for? Let’s ride their coattails—rally the troops, assemble a thousand-strong legion, and head to Windmill Town!"

This news spread like wildfire, and soon, everyone was talking about it.

"That thing is more terrifying than anything else… It dwells in an abyss no mortal can gaze upon, ruling over the depths of hell. Its very breath shakes the earth and blights all life… No human has ever seen its true form, for those who have vanished into the abyss never return…"

"Its wrath is mercurial, but every seer will warn you: do not dare challenge it with the sharpest blade, for it will repay you a hundredfold…"

Jing Rong’s glass of pale wheat ale was empty. An old woman in a purple cloak hovered near him and asked, "Sir, would you like a divination?"

Jing Rong shook his head, and the old woman moved on to others, offering potions to enhance fortune.

626 had long since passed out drunk.

Jing Rong watched the lively crowd before making his way past the bar to the bulletin board.

The number of participants for the World Dragon quest was ballooning—in moments, it had already reached ten thousand.

And this number would continue to grow without limit. This might become the largest raid attempt ever.

By the bulletin board, the hero party’s minstrel, Finn, was registering and handing out commemorative items. When he saw Jing Rong, he first glanced at his equipment, then slowly twisted into a sneer, as if he didn’t recognize him. "Sorry, sir. Though we’ve set the entry level at 100, your gear score must reach at least 10,000 to join our party."

His words drew the attention of those nearby.

Most people in this max-level town were already among the world’s top-ranked elites.

Jing Rong, whose total equipment attack power didn’t even break 100, was like a lamb among wolves.

Fortunately, Windmill Town was a sanctuary town—violence wasn’t permitted here.

But someone like Jing Rong appearing near the bulletin board was enough to draw sneers.

"That’s the human champion with zero combat power? My god, what a loser."

"I heard he’s the trash Reinhardt’s party kicked out…" someone muttered. "If it were me, I wouldn’t tolerate that kind of garbage in my team either…"

"Why would a human even try to be a champion? He should just go find a spouse and quit."

"Hey, buddy, watch your back." A burly giant stinking of booze clapped Jing Rong on the shoulder with a sneer. "Some folks don’t care about killing naked noobs, but you should know—some people just love killing, especially squishy humans like you…"

The giant’s palm came down with enough force to crush an elephant.

Amid the crowd’s gasps, the giant lurched forward—his strike had hit nothing but air.

He stared at his own hand in confusion.

Jing Rong stood unfazed in the corner by the bulletin board, as if nothing had happened.

For a brief moment, he had simply blinked out of existence.

Unfazed by the provocation, Jing Rong reached out and, without stirring any reaction, said, "Sorry, I’m not here to join the quest."

With a crisp *tap*, he pinned a marriage ad onto the board.

Amid the sea of battle-hungry posters, his pink marriage ad stood out like a sore thumb.

The crowd fell into dead silence: "…………"

A message from Jing Rong appeared in the world channel.

The content was straightforward: "Looking for a wife. Interested parties may contact Mr. Jing Rong at Windmill Town, No. 151."

Marriage notices were common at night, and Jing Rong’s was totally generic—it was quickly buried under the flood of messages.

After posting the notice, Jing Rong returned to his table under the crowd’s bewildered, mocking, or simply strange stares. He plucked the wasted 626 from his glass and tucked him into his pocket.

The seer slowly made her way back from the opposite corner. "Sir, want your fortune read? Just five copper coins."

Jing Rong had been about to leave, but he paused and handed the old woman five coins before sitting back down.

"Welcome to the Seer’s humble stall. What would you like to ask?" the old woman inquired.

Jing Rong replied, "I’m searching for my lover. I’d like to know where they are now."

His tone was calm, his demeanor serene—an island of calm in this chaotic, noisy world.

The old woman nodded knowingly. "Love, is it? In a world drunk on power and battle, your pursuit is unlike anyone else’s… Let the cards guide you…"

She spread the divination cards across the table, their surfaces worn with age.

"Oh my…"

The old woman put on her glasses and leaned in for a closer look before whispering in astonishment, "The cards say… you are not of this world… Your power is beyond comprehension… The signs lead you west—if you journey westward, you will find the love fate has destined for you."

Jing Rong said, "Thank you."

He put on his hat and left the tavern.

By three in the morning, the streets had finally emptied, and the attic at home was quiet once more.

After washing up, Jing Rong lay down on the small bed in the loft and idly flipped open a scroll to read.

The Executor of the greater world understood the laws that governed reality—how everything was interconnected, how many things required time to unfold.

Until then, all he had to do was carry on as usual.

*

After Reinhardt’s party accepted the quest, Windmill Town was soon jammed to the rafters, the streets nearly bursting at the seams.

Jing Rong raised the price of his potions 200 times—yet they still sold out by dawn.

626 said, "Bro, you’re a damn shark. We’re gonna be rich."

Jing Rong replied, "Sometimes, I just go with the flow."

He divided the obtained gems and gold coins in half with 626, which was met with 626's delighted praise.

Outside, the streets were filled with warriors and priests in all manner of costumes, all drawn by the unprecedented quest.

Jing Rong threw on his hunting gear, strapped on his iron sword, and turned the key in his shop's lock.

He wasn't yet fully familiar with this land. With the shop’s medicine sold out, he seized the chance to gather herbs while scouting the area.

Carrying his backpack, Jing Rong stepped into the town, where many low-level adventurers stood at the gates, calling out enthusiastically: "Hey there, friend! Want to join our party? We’re heading to slay the World Dragon!"

Jing Rong did pause.

He lowered his head, unfurled his parchment map in his hand, and replied in a calm, polite tone, "I’m heading west. Are you going in the same direction?"

The recruiters wore expressions of regret.

"No, the Dragon’s Abyss lies in the eastern Hell's Lava Fields—uncharted territory without waypoints."

"Then our paths diverge."

Jing Rong rolled up the map, nodded politely, and strode alone against the tide of the crowd.

*

As days passed and constellations wheeled.

The first wave of adventurers had already arrived at the Hell's Lava Fields.

They were not Reinhardt’s party.

The world’s top-ranked adventurers treated such quests with measured caution, never risking their vanguard as probes.

They would first regroup, study the dragon’s attack patterns and habits, and then devise a battle plan.

Most of these first-wave adventurers were ragtag bands of mercenaries, disorganized but numerous.

World Channel: "The first wave has entered the World Dragon’s territory."

Everyone held their breath, awaiting the outcome.

The usually bustling World Channel fell into hushed anticipation. Every second stretched like a century.

In the wilderness, Jing Rong harvested a common medicinal bloom as 626 breathlessly reported the events.

"Total wipeout! I hacked into their party channel—they vanished in an instant!"

Jing Rong tucked the flower away just as the World Channel updated.

"First wave wiped out."

"Cause of death: Dragon’s Breath."

"Dragon’s Breath: The scorching breath of the World Dragon during slumber. No living thing survives such scorching flames. Some protection must be arranged first."

The World Channel exploded with profanity.

"Half an hour’s march, just to be roasted alive by a sleeping dragon’s breath? Terrifying!"

"What kind of damage is this? True damage? How did thousands get wiped out instantly? What even is this attack type?"

"Maybe… it was just sleeping?"

626 crowed, "Now this gets my blood pumping! Brother, should we give it a shot too?"

Jing Rong switched the channel to "Nearby" and snapped the neck of an approaching lizardman with his bare hands.

He shot down the suggestion flatly: "I have no interest in boss fights."

Jing Rong had always been indifferent to boss battles. In this world, he usually took on local favor quests—rounding up runaway poultry or healing a child’s injured father.

The creatures here were largely uninspiring, and he had no desire to fight ugly world bosses.

Especially the last one, rumored to be a bog-born abomination.

Just then, the fallen party regrouped and set out again.

The footsteps of thousands sent rippling tremors through the earth, reverberating through the superheated earth into the depths of the abyss.

At the bottom of the endless black chasm, the rhythm of slumbering breaths shifted.

A soft pillow slipped from the dragon’s claw.

Those were magnificent talons—crimson and obsidian, scales gleaming like flame-polished obsidian.

He had been sleeping peacefully atop a hoard of gold, clutching the small pillow, but the tremors dislodged it.

Awakened from the darkness.

Twin golden beacons flared in the darkness. Noble and cold.

The dragon opened his eyes.