The Black Ship drifted through the black miasma, slow as a frozen shadow.
There was no sound of oars cutting water, no creak of wooden planks rubbing together. Even the seawater around the hull raised not the slightest ripple, as if it was not floating on the sea but embedded in the miasma like a painting.
Seaweed hung from the ship's rails, withered and black like a corpse's hair. It swayed lightly with the hull, yet made no sound against the water.
The strangest thing was its sail.
From afar, it had looked like nothing more than a tattered sheet of black cloth. Now that they were closer, they could see dark-red patterns on its surface—not embroidered, but more like dried bloodstains that had seeped into the fibers, faintly radiating heat in the dim light.
The sea wind seemed to have frozen solid.
A moment ago, it had still whipped their robes about with its salty stench. Now it abruptly stalled, making even breathing feel sluggish.
The five of them hovered in midair, hearing nothing but their own heartbeats, each thud heavy enough to seem ready to smash into the sea.
Demonic Essence gathered faintly at Qin He's fingertips as he spread his divine sense with all his strength.
Yet the ship seemed not to exist in this world. There were no spiritual energy fluctuations, no Resentful Energy leaking out, not even the sensation of a "physical body." When his divine sense swept across the ship, it passed straight through, as though what lay before him was merely an illusory patch of light and shadow.
"It's a projection..." he murmured, his brows knotted tight. "A projection from another realm, yet it can manifest in these waters."
"Who cares what it is? Run!" Zhou Shan's roar shattered the dead silence.
Gripping