A chilling wind hung over Victore Port, and every household had its windows tightly shut.
Such a sight was truly abnormal for this city. Normally, the tropical monsoon from the Floating Vine Sea brought abundant moisture, and with the ample light of the Sun-Supporting Tree, Victore Port had always enjoyed a pleasant tropical maritime climate. Overcast skies and dry cold had nothing to do with it.
Quinn Mahamut held a pipe, his gaze passing beyond the window. Purple, murky Void light surfaced in his eyes, as though he wished to pierce the lead-gray sky and monitor the route's course.
Yet even with the power of the Void, all he could see was the thick fog rising from the sea, blocking the fleet his elder brother had taken south.
"The situation doesn't look good, Young Master."
The butler, Maihe Te, approached him and said worriedly, "This dry, cold wind is extremely strange. Quite a few sailors and captains say there's dense floating ice beneath the sea. Many ships have suffered for it, and now Viktor's shipyards are all backed up with repairs."
Quinn shook his head. "It's no big deal. The Abyssal Realm's environment changes constantly. Heat can dissipate for no reason at all; a block of ice can even boil a cup of water. It isn't strange for this dry, cold wind to freeze seawater."
"That is true. The Abyssal Realm contains every kind of strange environment."
The butler glanced at Quinn and said:
"But coincidentally, Aisher and his thugs vanished on the very day that the chilling wind appeared."
Hearing this, Quinn Mahamut raised his pipe as if to take a puff. His brow furrowed tightly before he finally said, "Aisher led the sixth squad, the one that kept watch on outsiders. He should have been fairly capable. Although