Shen Le cautiously looked at the wooden boat placed inside the box, which Qing Li carefully carried over.
Dark brown, its surface slightly rough, its texture seeming somewhere between wood and bark. It was palm-length and three fingers wide, pointed and upturned at both ends, with no oars, no sails, and no canopy.
At a glance, it looked like a child's handmade canoe. Compared with Cloud Kun, its refinement—or rather, its complexity—fell far short:
Yet upon closer inspection, the little wooden boat immediately gave him a heart-stopping sensation. Whether it was the crack along the left side or the large hole in its bottom, the moment his spiritual power drew near, he could sense roaring turbulent currents within:
Just one look made him feel as though everything from his mind to his soul would be sucked straight in and torn apart on the spot.
But Shen Le was no longer at the level he had been when repairing Cloud Kun. He reined in his senses and, instead of extending threads of spiritual power, circled the box once, inspecting it carefully from every angle.
"What material is this boat made of? It doesn't feel quite like wood—or rather, not entirely wood..."
His gaze swept through half a circle, shifting from Qing Li, who stood by the table and leaned slightly toward the box, to the Dragon Lord, who stood by the railing gazing down, seemingly giving all his attention to the spaces between the white jade balusters.
Qing Li's expression remained rigid and proper as he gave a slight shake of his head, looking as though he had been born too late and had never heard of it.
The Dragon Lord, however, did not turn around. Seen from behind and to the side, the corner of his mouth seemed to curl