Qing Chen stared at the lamp for three breaths.
An indescribable feeling welled up from the depths of his heart-bitterness.
Not bitterness in his mouth, but in his heart. It was as though something pressed against his chest, leaving him unable to breathe, unable to swallow it down or spit it out.
At that moment, standing on this battered boat adrift on this dead sea, surrounded by nothing but blood and darkness, with no shore ahead and no way back behind, he suddenly understood what "the sea of suffering knows no bounds" meant.
Thud.
A muffled sound came from the stern, and the entire boat lurched violently.
Qing Chen's gaze sharpened. He held the Blood River God-Slaying Spear across his body, its tip aimed straight at the source of the sound-then he saw a man tumble out of the shadows at the stern.
The man wore a brocade robe with dark patterns. Qing Chen recognized the markings on it: they belonged to the Qing Household. Disheveled hair, a thin face-the Qing Household's Third Elder, Qing Sanxiao.
This veteran Great Cultivator of the Nascent Soul Late Stage was now a complete wreck as well.
His brocade robe was covered in dark red slime, as though he had just been fished out of bloody water. Who knew where his hair crown had flown off to? Something that might have been sweat or blood smeared his face. Bracing himself against the side of the boat, he gasped for breath, his eyes bloodshot, as though someone had forced a whole pot of seawater down his throat.
"Cough, cough, cough-" Qing Sanxiao coughed violently several times, raised his head, and immediately spotted Qing Chen.
Their eyes met, and it was as though the air had been sucked away.
Qing Sanxiao's gaze changed three times within