The route to Wu Shui was a mystery wrapped in the murk of the ocean depths. There were no maps pinned to the cabin walls, no helpful guides to point the way. Xiao Ming was navigating on little more than blind faith, banking on the hope that fate—or perhaps a coincidental association with a fellow passenger—would steer him true.
Commerce in this underwater domain was a game rigged against surface dwellers. Maps were rare commodities, priced in figures that made Xiao Ming's depleted spirit stone pouch feel even lighter against his hip. He had hoped the storage bags looted from the Tai Brothers would offer some reprieve, but a quick rummage had yielded nothing but disappointment. Their "treasures" were scraps, and their weapons were of such low grade that the Moon Devourer Sword in his possession didn't just ignore them; it seemed to hum with palpable disgust at being near such trash.
"Pathetic," Xiao Ming sneered, the word barely audible over the creaking of the ship's hull.
