Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The wooden cabinets were opened one by one.

The chill, the smell of decay, and a faint, fishy odor of corpse oil quickly mingled together.

Xilun checked the materials one by one and paid after confirming that there were no problems.

Six hundred and seventy pounds.

With the addition of subsequent ship and registration fees, as well as spare medicines, this nearly emptied his remaining banknotes.

The middle-aged monk put away the banknotes and couldn't help but remind him, "You can't use more than five Drowned Silver Coins at the same time. The death aura is too high, which will attract things from the deep water."

"I know."

"One bottle of Moon Spring Potion per day is allowed."

"clear."

"Also, if you see a dead person promising you power, do not answer."

Siren packed the materials into a deep-sea water bag and a leather suitcase, and said calmly, "I'm not interested in what the dead promise."

The middle-aged cultivator watched his departing figure and muttered something under his breath.

"That's what everyone who goes in initially says."

For the next two days, Xiren did not immediately head to the Sea of ​​the Dead.

In his cave, he re-examined the operation of the Styx Breath and reviewed several cultivation notes on the invasion of death energy.

When Swain learned of his plan, he did not stop him, but only gave him a red gun charm the size of a thumb.

Once the spirit is corrupted by death energy, crushing the spear talisman will cause the remaining spear intent within to instantly pierce the consciousness, forcibly waking the person from the illusion.

But the cost is equally obvious.

That intent to fire doesn't distinguish between friend and foe, and could very likely damage one's spirit.

It must not be used unless it is a matter of life and death.

At dawn on the third day, Siren once again stood before the iron gates of the Sea of ​​the Dead.

The old monk with gray eyes was still guarding the gate.

After several months apart, the other person seemed to have aged even more than before, with skin like tree bark that had lost its moisture, and barely any movement of the body could be seen under the wide gray robe.

He looked up at Xilun.

"You've been here."

"I've been here before."

"Last time I stayed for seven days."

"Yes."

The old monk's gaze lingered on Siron's right arm for a moment.

"This time, don't believe anything that grows in the water."

Xilun's eyes flickered slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"Literal meaning."

The old monk offered no further explanation, turned around, and pulled the iron chain on the wall.

The sound of gears grinding slowly rose as the heavy iron gate opened to both sides.

The stench of rotting wood, seaweed, and corpses assaulted the senses, while a cold mist rose from the ground, quickly causing a thin layer of frost to form on the stone slabs outside the door.

Behind the door was still that gray-black bay.

The sky was shrouded in low, dark clouds, and the sea was littered with rotting planks and fish carcasses that had been dead for an unknown period of time.

From the depths of the thick fog in the distance, the occasional groan of a shipwrecked wooden beam breaking could be heard.

Xilun crossed the iron gate.

The old monk's hoarse voice came from behind.

"Dead men lie."

"Even living people can do that."

Xilun did not turn back.

The iron gate slammed shut.

He rented a small boat covered with tin on the shore, loaded the materials into the hold, and then poled off the shore.

There were seven or eight ships anchored on the outskirts of the Sea of ​​the Dead.

Some inner court disciples sat cross-legged at the bow of the boat, surrounded by lit gray candles; some ground the bones into powder and sprinkled them into the water to attract the lingering thoughts of the dead; and two extraordinary beings dressed in black robes simply submerged half their bodies in the sea, their skin so pale it was almost transparent.

Siren did not speak to them.

He drove for more than a mile and dropped the anchor near the middle of the course.

Five drowned silver coins weighed down the rotten wood of the cold swamp, while sediment from the underground river was scattered into the water along the ship's side. The moment the materials touched the seawater, circles of gray-black ripples spread silently.

Underwater, faces swollen and pale from being submerged slowly opened their eyes.

Xilun sat down cross-legged.

The power of the Overturning Sea Technique flows through the meridians, and the breath of the Styx River circulates accordingly.

The surrounding gray mist seemed to be drawn towards his mouth and nose.

Icy.

Dead silence.

Countless broken emotions mingled with the deathly aura.

Fear, despair, resentment, and hatred.

If an ordinary person were to inhale this indiscriminately, their spirit would be torn to shreds in an instant.

Xilun, however, used the Moon Memory Meditation method to compress his consciousness into a cold and clear point.

The lingering resentment of the deceased brushed past the edge of his mind.

He only takes the death energy from it, while the remaining impurities are dispelled layer by layer by the Overturning Sea Technique.

Time passes little by little.

The experience gained on the panel is slowly increasing.

[Breath of the Styx Experience +2]

[Breath of the Styx Experience +3]

[Breath of the Styx Experience +2]

The first few days were very calm.

Every six hours, Xilun would stop his meditation, drink hot water, and eat heavily spiced dried meat to stimulate his senses.

Three days later, he returned to shore, rested for a night, and then went back in.

This process was repeated over and over.

The breath of the dead accumulated deeper and deeper within his body.

Every time he exhales, a thin layer of black mist appears between his lips and teeth.

The surrounding temperature also dropped, and even ordinary disciples several feet away could feel the chilling aura of decay.

On the ninth day, Xilun encountered a third-tier undead.

The creature was dressed in rotten crew clothes, with half of its body hanging over the ship's side, and its empty eye sockets filled with wriggling white worms.

It pounced silently.

Xilun didn't even open his eyes, only exhaling a wisp of Styx breath.

The black mist touched the undead.

The rotting crew member froze instantly.

It was an inanimate object, but the remaining power that supported its body's movement rapidly decayed under the breath of the Styx.

In the blink of an eye, the bones turned into grayish-white powder, which drifted onto the water's surface with the sea breeze.

On the fourteenth day, Siren began to hear Lund's voice.

The voice came from underwater, repeatedly telling him to return to the Southern Continent.

Xilun did not respond.

On the eighteenth day, in his hallucination, Duke Storm stood at the bow of the ship, coldly scrutinizing him and calling him forever a lowly bastard.

Xilun still did not open his eyes.

Hatred can be a source of strength, but it cannot be a rope that allows others to control you.

On the twenty-second day, the circulation of the Styx Breath within his body gradually approached a certain critical point.

With each breath, the death energy no longer merely resides temporarily in the lungs, but seeps into the fascia along part of the Overturning Sea Technique, forming an invisible dark river deep within the flesh and blood.

Only one final step of accumulation is needed to reach the expert level.

However, on the evening of the twenty-fourth day, the Sea of ​​the Dead suddenly began to stir.

At first, there was only a slight tremor on the water's surface.

Then, a faint blue light appeared in the depths of the dark gray sea.

The light was located at the boundary between the middle and deep layers, and was still clearly visible through the thick fog.

The deathly aura from all around converged there like a tide, and the floating corpses and broken trees on the sea were also slowly drawn towards it.

A long, drawn-out bell rang out from deep within the shipwreck area.

thump—

The sound echoed throughout the entire bay.

The disciples who were cultivating were all awakened.

"What happened?"

"The undead tide has arrived early?"

"No, the deathly aura underwater is all converging in one place!"

The people on the small boats stood up and looked warily toward the source of the blue light.

Xilun also opened his eyes.

He could clearly feel that the chaotic death aura around him was rapidly decreasing, as if it were being devoured by something.

Several disciples who practiced necromancy gathered around a large ship and discussed in hushed tones.

"Could something extraordinary be brewing?"

"The last time a Tier 3 Yin Spirit Bone appeared was seven years ago."

"This aura is much purer than that of the Yin Spirit Bone."

Greed quickly overwhelmed vigilance.

A gaunt disciple was the first to jump into the water. Gray scales appeared on his skin, indicating that he possessed some kind of talent suited for underwater movement.

Seeing this, the others were not to be outdone.

Some people put on scuba masks, some took underwater breathing agents, and some directly used hydrophilic techniques to plunge into the gray-black seawater.

Xilun stood at the bow of the ship, not taking immediate action.

The old monk with gray eyes still echoed in my ears with his words, "Don't believe anything that grows in water."

But the scent coming from underwater was extremely pure.

It was not the remains of an evil god, nor was it obviously spiritually polluted; rather, it was a condensed, almost tangible, aura of death from the underworld.

If this item can be obtained, the time required for the Breath of the Styx to break through to the expert level will be greatly shortened.

Xilun pondered for only a few moments before coiling the Thunder Spear around his waist.

Fortune favors the bold.

Caution does not mean shrinking back from opportunities.

He took a breath of air, his affinity for water activated, and his figure quietly disappeared into the sea.

The waters of the Sea of ​​the Dead are icy cold.

The light could only illuminate a distance of a few feet, and scattered corpses and dark green water plants floated all around.

The further they went, the denser the deathly aura became, and wisps of eerie blue light rose from the bottom of the water like threads.

After swimming several hundred feet, a sunken underwater trench came into view.

In the center of the valley, a lotus flower grows.

The lotus stem is jet black, and the leaves are a deep blue with dense silver-white veins on the surface.

The flower buds, not yet fully open, were as big as washbasins, and dozens of skeletons floated around them, like worshippers kneeling before them.

"Netherworld Lotus!"

Someone is making a sound by vibrating their breath underwater.

The surprise was almost impossible to hide.

The Nether Lotus only grows in places where death energy and magic are extremely concentrated. It takes a hundred years to take root, a hundred years to grow leaves, and another hundred years before it can bloom.

The lotus itself can purify the power of the dead.

Lotus seeds are equally precious. Consuming them can enhance the spirit's resistance to death, making them a treasure for those who practice meditation and Yin-based methods.

The news spread quickly.

People on the sea began to gather here.

In just a quarter of an hour, more than twenty third-tier extraordinary individuals had appeared nearby, and even second-tier disciples who had only recently entered the Sea of ​​the Dead were following far behind, trying to take advantage of the situation.

Siren surfaced and stood on a bare, sunken ship mast.

In the distance, a small, pitch-black boat broke through the gray fog and approached.

A familiar figure stood at the bow of the ship.

Samuel.

After several months apart, his aura was even more refined than during the qualifying matches.

Even in the Sea of ​​the Dead, the perfect physical strength and vital energy could not be completely concealed. Before the gray mist around him could even get close, it was pushed away by the heavy force.

He was followed by three people, all of whom were third-tier extraordinary individuals.

Samuel smiled as he watched the faint blue light gradually emerge underwater.

"Netherworld Lotus".

"Looks like I'm having a lucky day."

When the people nearby saw his appearance clearly, their expressions all changed.

"It's Samuel."

He has reached physical perfection.

"We still have three helpers; it seems we won't get the lotus."

Samuel clearly thought so too.

He paid no attention to those around him, his hands behind his back, calmly waiting for the Nether Lotus to mature, as if the creature beneath the water already bore his name.

Until a thin-faced young man next to him saw Xilun.

"Senior Brother Samuel, isn't that Elder Swain's newly accepted disciple?"

Samuel turned his head.

His gaze pierced through the gray fog and met that of Xilun.

His expression immediately turned cold.

He kept the conflict before the Star Ring qualifying race in his heart.

Moreover, the close relationship between Siren and Elena had already greatly displeased him.

If it were in the inner courtyard, he would be wary of Swain and would naturally not be able to make a move.

But this is the Sea of ​​the Dead.

In the struggle for extraordinary items, injuries are perfectly normal.

Samuel didn't even need to take action himself.

He waved his hand casually.

"Stop him."

It was as if he were merely instructing his henchman to shoo away an eyesore of a fly.

The thin-faced youth grinned and walked across the water to the front of Xilun.

"Junior brother, Senior Brother Samuel is in a good mood today and doesn't want to argue with you."

"Retreat to the outer perimeter; the Nether Lotus is none of your concern."

Xilun glanced at the lotus flower that was slowly blooming.

Then he looked at the person in front of him.

"Get out of the way."

The smile on the thin-faced young man's face disappeared.

"You think you can act arrogantly anywhere just because you've become Elder Swain's disciple?"

"This is not Thunderclap Cliff. In the struggle for treasure, swords and spears have no eyes. If you don't know when to advance and retreat, you can't blame anyone else if you get injured."

Xilun's expression remained unchanged.

He reached out and unfastened the Canglei Spear from his waist.

The gun barrel, coiled like a belt, fell into my hand. I poured my strength into it, and the barrel suddenly straightened.

The low, guttural sound of gunfire echoed through the fog.

"The last time."

"Get out of the way."

Anger flashed across the thin-faced youth's eyes.

"court death!"

He suddenly spread his arms wide, and a black bone blade shot out from between his ten fingers.

The aura of death coiled along the bone blade, instantly transforming into ten cold, black beams that sealed off Xilun's escape route.

Xilun took a step forward.

Canglang Step.

A ripple spread across the sea beneath my feet.

All ten bone blades missed their mark.

The thin-faced youth's pupils contracted. Before he could even see Xilun's movements, a thunderous roar rang in his ears.

The Thunder Spear did not thrust out.

Instead, it swept across the land.

The water surges ahead, while the thunder's power lies hidden behind.

The gun barrel slammed heavily into the thin-faced youth's waist.

The nine tidal energies of the Nine Dragons Covering the Sea overlapped in an instant.

boom!

The protective energy shattered like thin paper.

The thin-faced youth's body bent into an exaggerated arc as he flew sideways, breaking two rotten masts before crashing into the sea.

The blood quickly stained the surrounding water red.

He struggled to get up, but the bones in his waist had been shattered by the gunshot, and his legs drooped limply, making it impossible for him to move.

All around was silent.

Samuel's composure gradually disappeared.

Just a few months ago, Xilun was, in his eyes, a newly recruited inner court disciple who relied on his teacher's protection.

But that shot just now...

Its speed, strength, and techniques all far surpass those of ordinary third-tier individuals.

With a gun in one hand, Xilun stepped across the water and walked past the thin-faced youth.

"He can't stop me."

Samuel stared at him, his eyes gradually darkening.

Just then, the eerie light on the seabed suddenly intensified.

The Netherworld Lotus, which had waited hundreds of years, finally bloomed slowly under the watchful eyes of countless people.

one slice.

Two pieces.

Nine deep blue petals unfolded one after another.

The dense death energy transformed into a visible black beam of light that shot out of the sea.

Someone suddenly shouted:

"The lotus seeds are about to sprout!"

Before the words had even finished, dozens of dark blue streaks of light shot out from the flower's heart and scattered in all directions toward the Sea of ​​the Dead.

The crowd, who had been observing, suddenly turned red in the eyes.

-

The moment the azure lotus seeds scattered, the calm sea surface boiled over.

"Rob!"

Someone shouted.

A dozen or so less powerful extraordinary individuals immediately turned around and chased after the scattered lotus seeds.

They knew very well that the real Netherworld Lotus would not be theirs.

There is only one lotus flower, but among the contenders are several third-tier experts, and even Samuel, whose physique is at its peak. Rather than staying and risking danger, it's better to pursue the lotus seed.

A single Netherworld Lotus Seed is worth at least several hundred pounds.

If one can break through the barriers through this method, its value cannot be measured simply by money.

A series of powerful lights appeared on the sea surface.

Some people leaped after the ghostly blue light and used a specially made jade box to trap it; others had just grabbed a lotus seed when they were punched into the water by their opponents from behind; and several people fought fiercely around a lotus seed, their blades tearing through the gray mist, their blood mixing with the seawater.

Xilun did not pursue.

His gaze remained fixed on the center of the underwater trench.

After the lotus seed is separated from the body, the petals of the Netherworld Lotus fully unfold.

The nine petals are as thin as jade, and a nearly pure black mist rises from the lotus heart.

The mist contained neither the lingering thoughts of the dead nor any noisy murmurs; it contained only the purest necromantic power.

The Styx Breath within his body surged instinctively.

If we can take the entire Nether Lotus with us, we'll be close to becoming an expert.

After most people left, only four people remained.

Samuel.

Weston.

A tall man, shirtless, with skin covered in bluish-gray lividity.

There was also a short-haired woman with a curved knife and burn scars on her face.

All four of them were confident that they could compete for the entire Netherworld Lotus.

After a brief silence, the tall man suddenly laughed.

His voice was low and hoarse, like two bones rubbing against each other.

"Samuel, you stole my Shadow Bone last time, shouldn't you return something today?"

Samuel glanced at him.

"Dead ghost, if you hide in the outer courtyard, I might not have time to look for you."

"Now that it's been delivered to my door, it's saved me a lot of trouble."

The tall man, known as the Corpse Demon, sneered, and lividity rapidly spread across his body.

A foul, black odor emanated from his pores.

His grudge against Samuel was clearly deep, and he had no intention of testing him. He smashed the ship's planks with both feet and shot out like a cannonball.

Gray mist swirled around Samuel.

His right palm turned iron-blue, and the faint sound of ocean waves could be heard between his five fingers.

The two collided instantly.

boom!

The force of their collision caused the sea surface to suddenly sink.

The circular wave spread in all directions, causing several empty boats nearby to rock violently.

The corpse demon's body was exceptionally tough, and a metallic scraping sound could be heard when its fists and arms collided.

Samuel's strength was even more profound; each palm strike was imbued with layers of surging energy, constantly impacting his opponent's body.

After exchanging only a few blows, the two sides quickly became truly enraged.

The short-haired woman glanced at the two of them, lightly touched the water with her toes, and darted straight toward the Nether Lotus.

She has no interest in getting involved in personal feuds.

As long as she gets the lotus first and leaves the Sea of ​​the Dead, the outcome of the battle will be irrelevant to her.

But after rushing out for more than ten steps, a point of bluish-white lightning lit up in front of him.

The Thunder Spear pierced through the gray mist, precisely blocking her path.

The short-haired woman leaned back, her scimitar brushing against the spearhead as she tried to use the momentum to get around Xilun.

"Get out of here!"

A dark cyan aura surged from the scimitar.

The blade flashed like a crescent moon, slicing across the sea towards Xilun's legs.

The water surged at the feet of Siron.

With a slight shift in his Canglang Step, his body moved three feet to the side in an uncanny way, dodging the blade while the end of his spear emerged from under his ribs, aiming straight for the woman's wrist.

The short-haired woman sheathed her knife and slashed downwards.

clang!

Swords and spears clashed.

A burst of blue-white lightning suddenly erupted.

She felt a numbness in her right arm, and her five fingers almost lost all feeling. Her heart skipped a beat.

The young man in front of her was not as strong as she was, but his marksmanship was far more solid than she had expected.