The dragon bone of the Gods and Demons Black Ship gave off a dry grinding sound within the heavy river water.
Chu Qing stood barefoot on the icy deck. Every time his toes spread and curled, he could feel the faint tremor transmitted by that Gods and Demons Spine Dragon Bone.
"Lord, is that the 'exit'?"
Ye Wushuang stopped three paces behind Chu Qing. He gripped his sword hilt so hard that his knuckles turned deathly white, while beads of sweat at his temples fell onto the planks with a soft tap.
Chu Qing did not turn around.
(Motive): He sensed an extreme dryness—the smell of life being forcibly baked dry.
(Micro-expression): The corner of his mouth pulled downward, his jawline tightened in an instant, and his gaze turned as cold as a blade slicing across ice.
"Whether it's an exit or not, we'll know once we go in and tear it apart."
Chu Qing leaped into the air.
Without a sound, his entire body became a purple afterimage, racing up the lighthouse's outer wall.
The top floor of the lighthouse.
The wind here stood still, while fine white dust floated through the air like stars ground into powder.
Chu Qing landed on the platform at the tower's peak.
At the center stood a crooked stone chair. Someone sat upon it.
It was merely an ancient corpse, shriveled until nothing remained but a layer of gray skin. It wore what had once been a magnificent robe patterned with clouds, now thoroughly rotten. Its head hung to one side, its hands withered like dead branches, its fingertips still clutching the armrests with all their strength, gouging ten deep marks into the stone.
Chu Qing walked over.
(Action): His bare feet stepped onto the dust, leaving behind a clear trail of footprints.