Mei Ziyu's rain was light and sporadic, causing the surface of the Weishui River to sparkle like countless tiny stars.
The giant ship, nearly a hundred zhang long, sailed on—the Magic Artifact emitted a sound like the chirping of cicadas, propelling the vessel forward.
Deep within the Weishui, numerous Strange Spirits lay hidden, but in the face of this colossal ship, none dared to act rashly.
Tu San's young master stood on the deck, gazing at the vast river waters and mused, "Life... is so unpredictable."
He felt that the recent events were just too twisted and bizarre.
First, there was the stroke of luck when he found the Light Sword.
Then there was misfortune, having been blackmailed by Thornblood not once, but twice.
He had managed to avoid danger the first time, the second... left with no option, he had to give up his silver.