Like a ferryman of the Yellow Springs, the old woman had appeared before them many times since the Nether King's Demon Vault emerged.
She seemed to be everywhere.
On the pitch-black marsh, the fifty-foot Ghost Ship approached slowly, drawing near the shore.
Xu Yan and the others exchanged glances, then rose into the air and landed firmly aboard.
"Senior, sorry for the trouble."
Xu Yan glanced sidelong at her and cupped his hands.
The old woman said nothing. Her face was indistinct beneath her black veil. She extended a withered hand, releasing a surge of deathly cold mystic qi to propel the Ghost Ship.
The green Spirit Lamp at the bow flickered as the Ghost Ship sailed into the depths of the marsh.
Ripples spread in rings across the still, ink-black waters.
Xu Yan and the others realized they could not seem to tell how fast the Ghost Ship was moving, because there was nothing around them to serve as a reference.
As far as their eyes could see, there was only the boundless black marsh.
Dense mist shrouded the sky as well. Even time seemed to have stopped here. It was a strange sensation.
For a while, silence hung over the Ghost Ship.
Even the usually talkative Yan Rulong held her tongue. Xu Yan and the others had all sensed something chilling.
They were being watched.
It was as though countless eyes were staring at them from every direction.
Netherworld Land was the Nether King's cultivation ground. During the Primordial Era, that heaven-reaching figure had stood second only to the Three Lords. Heaven alone knew what heights his cultivation and mystic arts had reached.
The black ship sailed deeper. After a long silence, Yan Rulong finally could not bear it anymore and spoke first.
"Senior, how much longer until