Zhang Yan narrowed his eyes and poked the bonfire before him.
In the dark waters one hundred and fifty miles deep, doing such things seemed absurd, yet it was actually quite normal. Because in this expanse of water, there also existed magical formations and restrictions. Some were complete and impassable; some were broken and useless; but his luck was good, and he had found a long-abandoned formation area.
The formation was built against the underwater mountain range, carving out a cave dwelling in the cliff and propping up a space of about an acre. Inside, it was dry and slightly cool, and there were even lingering ashes from old fire pits—probably a temporary sanctuary for cultivators who frequently came down to travel and adventure.
The best part was that this cave-like water-repelling zone had four exits in total, and each exit had warning systems or basic defensive layouts, allowing him to advance or retreat. After rearranging everything, he was finally able to catch his breath.
In this nearly full day, he had been through a very difficult time.
Wandering in waters a hundred or so miles deep, with a pressure of tens of thousands of catties bearing down on him at any moment, even an iron block would be crushed flat, not to mention that he also had to fight frequently. Every movement was a challenge to his limits. If it were only himself, that would be one thing, but he also had to take care of someone else, making his situation truly wretched.
He smiled self-deprecatingly. Stubbled, his hollow, bone-thin face reflected the warmth of the fire, covering up the somewhat unhealthy grayish-green hue.
Even swords forged a hundred times had moments when they snapped. Where his true limits lay, he knew in his heart. Being able to find