One Unreliable Character After Another

The waves crashed against the shore, rolling up a thousand layers of spray.

A sea of blood churned and surged, killing intent soaring into the sky. A vast figure loomed indistinctly within it, radiating a terrifying presence.

The sea of blood stretched for hundreds of miles. Its waters were thick and scarlet, and blood mist shrouded it in an eerie gloom. The cries of ghosts and howls of spirits seemed to rise from within. It had no source or origin, and no one knew how many years it had existed, yet it never dried up.

Hundreds of people had gathered on all sides of the sea of blood. The weakest among them had reached the Grandmaster realm. Anyone who had made it this far was no ordinary person.

Apart from a few scattered individuals, the hundreds gathered around the sea of blood had formed five distinct groups.

On a cliff east of the sea of blood, dozens of people watched the churning waters, their gazes wild as hungry wolves.

Most of them wore leather armor and had curved sabers at their waists. Any hint of movement around them drew a blade-sharp stare, while a chilling air of military discipline hung faintly over the group.

Two people stood side by side at the front. One was a young man, around two meters tall, with sleek, powerful muscles and a metallic sheen that seemed to glimmer across his skin.

He wore only a pair of leather trousers, his upper body bare. Two sheathed curved sabers were strapped to his back, and his long brown hair was braided into small plaits, giving him a distinctly unconventional appearance.

Beside the young man stood an old man clad in a robe of animal hides.

The old man was so aged he seemed close to death.