Time flowed on, and another two years passed in the blink of an eye.
The world remained as it had been, with little time for much to change.
The Netherworld was quiet. No trace of soul fire had been seen beneath the sunlight for a long time.
The Snow Nation was silent too. It seemed that after successive great battles, even the ice-and-snow monsters famed for their bloodthirsty brutality needed to catch their breath.
The soldiers and civilians of the northern commandery, and the man whose lone saber held the wind and snow at bay, finally welcomed a full year without war.
Nothing much happened overseas either. There was only word that a divine ship from Penglai Island, while exploring the Mingquan Secret Realm, one of the three great maelstroms, had suddenly encountered a sinking Gang Wind. Though it had narrowly escaped being swallowed by the great maelstrom, it had collided with an iceberg.
Had a certain hero from another continent not crossed the ocean to rescue it, the divine ship would likely have sunk to the icy seabed.
After the story reached the Chaotian Continent, many denounced it as an absurd falsehood, for no one except those mighty cultivators above the Sea-Breaking Realm could understand many of its details. What did it mean, for instance, that the hero had crossed the ocean? And how could one person save a divine ship as heavy as mountains and rivers?
This was nothing unusual. People often believed only what they wanted to believe.
Even now, some mortals still insisted that Daoist cultivators did not exist in the world. The principle was the same.
Whether people believed or not, some things would happen regardless.
Haizhou City, for instance, was about to welcome another Four Seas Feast hosted by the Western Prince.
Meanwhile, a