---
title: "Chapter 908: Mysterious Monk"
slug: "ch-914"
novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
number: 914
views: 0
likes: 0
wordCount: 1006
createdAt: "2026-04-15"
---

His pace quickened, and with each step he formed strange hand seals in front of him. But they were not Buddhist seals. Instead of warm, golden Buddha light, an ominous black radiance oozed from his fingers, chilling the surrounding air even further.

If anyone who knew him as a ’monk’ had seen this scene, they would have been horrified—because what surged through his body was not holy power, but corrupted Yin force. The big-bellied monk, however, seemed perfectly comfortable with it.

As he advanced, the swirling tendrils of Yin energy that would normally corrode flesh and bone were drawn into his hands, sucked into his body through the black seals he weaved like a man greedily drinking water after days in a desert.

Soon, his entire body was shrouded in a veil of black mist, and a piercing cold aura radiated from him in all directions, warping the air and making him appear less like a monk and more like some sinister devil whose hands were stained with blood.

The natural hum of the Yin energy grew louder around him, "buzz, buzz, buzz," resonating with the unnatural rhythm of the hand seals he continued to produce. His gait took on a strange, deliberate pattern, his feet tapping the stone in a measured zigzag motion, an esoteric footwork meant for sensing spatial flow.

He was tracking something—a convergence, a nexus point, the true source of the Yin energy within these caves.

For a full cup of tea’s time, he walked twenty miles into the abyssal network before the cave suddenly opened up into a massive chamber. The walls spread outward into a cavern so wide it felt almost like entering another world. Countless smaller black caves fed into this one central space, like rivers pouring into an ocean.

And there, right at the heart of it, waves of Yin energy surged and rolled like dark tides, spilling an endless stream of malevolent chill that blanketed the chamber in a deathly stillness.

The big-bellied monk stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he peered through the roiling black haze. "What... is that?" he muttered, his voice trembling slightly, whether from fear or awe he couldn’t tell.

The sight before him came into focus—a massive black stone about ten feet high, its surface unnaturally smooth and shining as though sculpted from obsidian. But what made it terrifying was not its appearance, but the power radiating from it.

It was suffocating.

This stone was the source—the heart of the Yin energy flooding the entire Black Dog Abyss.

A strange smile curled the monk’s lips as he stared at the monolithic stone, his eyes glowing faintly red from the reflection of the dark light. "So... this is it. The origin of everything. The true source of Yin."

After uttering those words with barely restrained excitement, the big-bellied monk’s trembling hands reached into his storage ring and drew out a strange object—a black card unlike anything one would expect to see in such a desolate abyss.

The card was perfectly flat yet strangely organic, its pitch-black surface gleaming faintly as though polished obsidian had been infused with living energy. Upon closer inspection, its texture was indescribable—it looked like wood, yet it was harder than iron, colder than copper, and at the same time possessed an unnatural flexibility, almost as if it were carved from the flesh of some primordial creature.

Its edges were jagged and irregular, like it had been torn or broken away from something much larger and far older than the monk himself could comprehend.

The monk’s breathing quickened, and a feverish gleam burned in his eyes as he caressed the strange card with his thick, calloused fingers, his thumb slowly running along its ridged edges as if he were touching the most sacred relic in the world.

His lips curled into an almost reverent smile, and he whispered with unrestrained fervor, "Go."

With a gentle but deliberate flick, he released the card into the air, and it floated weightlessly above the surging tides of Yin energy like a leaf carried by an invisible wind.

Immediately, he began weaving a sequence of complex hand seals, his fingers moving so fast they blurred, each gesture flowing seamlessly into the next as streams of mana coursed through his meridians and rushed toward the card.

With every completed seal, he sent a pulse of force into the card, the air buzzing and humming with spiritual tension.

"Buzz..." The cave itself trembled as the black card suddenly resonated, emitting a deep and echoing vibration, before bursting into a spreading arc of pure black light. The surrounding Yin energy, previously wild and chaotic like a churning storm, responded instantly to the card’s call, twisting into torrents and spiraling upward before being violently sucked into the black arc of light.

As the card greedily devoured the Yin energy, its once-dead surface came alive, shedding waves of shadow that rolled like liquid night.

Then came a sound—a sharp, crystalline clang like struck jade—rising from the card, crisp and almost melodic, echoing throughout the entire abyss. Its tone was so pure, so hauntingly beautiful, it seemed to touch the hearts of anyone who heard it, resonating with their souls like some celestial artifact awakening after eons of slumber.

Under the violent tide of Yin energy, the card began to change color. Slowly, almost reluctantly, its dark surface emitted a faint but distinct bronze glow that cut through the oppressive blackness. It was faint, like a dying ember, yet in the sea of overwhelming Yin, it stood out sharply, impossible to ignore.

At the same time, the melodic clang grew louder and steadier, as though something ancient was unlocking within it.

Stranger still, intricate markings began to appear across the card’s surface. At first, they were faint outlines—tiny, densely packed shapes that hovered somewhere between language and art, words and diagrams, mysterious glyphs interwoven with geometric patterns.

The markings pulsed with a life of their own, complex and unfathomable, a script from an era long forgotten by men or gods.