Everything on the Xiaoyu Continent seemed to have nothing to do with Xiao Hua anymore—neither hatred nor longing.
He was now in the depths of the sea, amid surging waves. His eyes were tightly shut, and his face bore no expression, neither sorrowful nor joyful. His entire body was slightly curled, his hands clenched into fists. The waves carried him up and down; at times they hurled him high into the air, and at others, giant swells slammed him into the seabed. Yet no matter what, Xiao Hua's body would always drift back to the surface soon afterward, like a bird feather that neither flew nor sank.
No one knew how many days passed like this. The tranquil Qiang He Sea gradually became lively. There had previously been few fish, but now seabirds were steadily increasing as well. Fish far larger than Xiao Hua burst from beneath the sea, leaping joyfully through the air as though chasing one another. Fountain-like columns of water shot from atop their heads, while the green scales across their bodies gleamed beneath the blazing sun, sparkling bit by bit. The seabirds circling overhead let out cries. Dozens, perhaps scores, swooped low, intending to approach the fish, but the rising water columns struck their wings. Crying "chirp chirp," some nimbly landed atop the fish and tore away several scales. Others were struck by the water columns and fell into the sea with fluttering splashes, only to rise again the instant they touched the water, crying "caw caw" in alarm as they flew high into the sky.
Every so often, a thunderous boom rang out as a colossal black fish, dozens of zhang long and mountain-like in size, surged from the azure waters and shot into the sky. Waves followed in its wake, and that rumbling cry