Blood Sea.
Two stools stood on a floating wooden plank.
Gu Qingshan sat on one of them, holding a fishing rod. He threaded the bait back onto the hook and cast it into the water.
"Ah—"
He let out a huge yawn, his face filled with boredom.
Sitting beside him was a middle-aged man with an imposing air and a handsome, dashing face.
The man held a pen and paper, scribbling away.
"So you're trapped here?" the man asked.
"Yeah. My master said Blood Sea is the only place I can rely on. I have to settle down here for a while and deepen my connection to the world before I can do anything else," Gu Qingshan said.
"That really does sound boring."
The man shook his head with a sigh, his pen flying across the page.
"Tell me about it. By the way, I killed a Historical Recorder not long ago. How come you still dare to come see me?" Gu Qingshan asked, glancing sidelong at him.
"You killed one?" The man grew wary and pressed him. "That can't be right. I should be the only one recording your story. What was his name?"
"I think it was Yan... something. I killed him before he could finish writing his name," Gu Qingshan recalled.
"Oh—that must have been Yan Henggang!" The man suddenly understood and bent back over his writing.
Now it was Gu Qingshan's turn to be curious.
"You really don't care that one of your fellow recorders died?" he asked.
"He was writing a bootleg. I'm the real Historical Recorder," the man said expressionlessly.
"I see. What's your name?" Gu Qingshan asked with a sigh.
"My name is Yan Huo."
After saying that, he put away his pen and paper, conjured two buckets of instant noodles out of