Starting as the heir of a marquis's mansion, I gained access to a summoning system.

At 3:45 AM, the sea fog had not yet dissipated.

At the Wanshe Island pier, three armored warships were ready to depart. Song Que stood with his hands behind his back at the bow, his blue robe stretching out its cold, hard lines in the sea breeze.

Tie Zhongtang stood on the port side, the flag wrapped around his back, the newly patched tear in the cloth revealing a faint, blood-red sheen. Jue Wushen boarded last, his right arm hanging motionless in his sleeve, his left fist clenched and unclenched, his face ashen.

Shi Zhixuan did not board the ship.

He said he was in the shadows.

Behind the three kings stood a hundred elite armored soldiers from the underworld, all of whom were at least at the initial stage of the Grandmaster realm.

The invitation from the King of the East Sea last night specifically stated that "guards may be brought," and this generous attitude only made Song Que more certain—what the other party wanted was for the entire Underworld to come out.

"set sail."

The armored warships cleaved through the thick fog, heading southeast. The three ships were arranged in a triangular formation, their hulls adorned with ghost-head patterns that shimmered faintly in the morning light.

Shi Zhixuan stood on the dock watching the fleet disappear into the fog until the last mast was swallowed up before turning to walk towards another small boat moored on the shore.

Before boarding the boat, he bent down and scooped up a handful of seawater. After wetting his fingertips, he drew a strange rune on his palm. The rune flashed and disappeared, as if it had been absorbed by his palm.

"Let's go," he said to the old man poling the boat, "follow them for thirty li."

The old man nodded, pushed off with his bamboo pole, and the small boat glided silently into the mist.

Penglai Island is closer than anyone imagines.

The ship had been sailing on the East China Sea for less than two hours when the thick fog was suddenly lifted like a curtain.

Everyone saw the island—it wasn't large, only about ten miles in circumference, but the outline of the entire island was suspended about three zhang above the sea, as if it were being supported by an invisible hand.

Countless gray-white stalagmites hang down from the bottom of the island, deeply embedded in the seawater, and the splashes of water from the waves hitting the stalagmites are dark red.

"A floating island." Tie Zhongtang squinted. "Only the tombs of ancient celestial beings could be constructed like this. The deceased did not wish to decay with the dust; they wanted to remain aloof from all living beings even in death."

Three large ships stopped three miles off the island. Ahead, a huge golden ship was already anchored, its prow carved with a dragon head and its hull covered with water-patterned symbols unique to the East China Sea.

Dozens of people stood on the deck, the leader dressed in a black robe with gold patterns. His eyes seemed to have been worn smooth by the sea wind for a hundred years, his gaze both sharp and gentle, extremely contradictory.

King of the East Sea.

Seeing the approaching fleet of the underworld, he rose and walked to the side of the ship, clasped his hands in greeting across the vast sea, and said loudly, "King Taishan, King Chujiang, and King Wuguan—the three of you have come from afar, and I have been waiting for you for a long time."

Song Que returned the greeting: "You're too kind, King of the East Sea."

The two fleets drew closer and formed a metal passage. The King of the East Sea personally boarded the ship, accompanied by only a dozen or so followers, each exuding a calm and composed aura, the weakest being a Grandmaster Level Two.

Song Que glanced at them and immediately understood—these dozen or so people must be the core fighting force of the East Sea Prince's Mansion. They are usually scattered in various corners of the seventy-two islands, but now they have all been brought out at once, which means they obviously do not intend to hide their strength this time.

"please."

The group abandoned ship and went ashore. The beach on Penglai Island was made of rare black sand, which made a rustling sound when stepped on, and each grain of sand had a faint metallic sheen.

The island's vegetation had long since died out, leaving only jagged gray rocks with fine cracks on their surfaces. Pale red sap seeped from the cracks, and there was a faint smell of rust in the air.

The King of the East Sea walked at the very front, his steps extremely confident, as if he had traversed this path countless times. Song Que and Tie Zhongtang exchanged a glance, neither of them saying a word.

After crossing the beach, there is a natural stone staircase that spirals upwards, with a total of 999 steps.

Every ten steps along the stone walls on both sides of the steps, there is an ancient bronze lamp, its oil still burning and its pale blue flame never going out.

Upon reaching the 300th step, the first layer of restriction materialized. Countless pale golden chains suddenly condensed in the air, densely stretching across the stone steps, each chain engraved with runes so small they were almost invisible to the naked eye.

Three humanoid stone statues, each over ten feet tall, stood in front of the barrier. Their bodies were covered in bluish-gray rock armor, their faces were indistinct, and only two points of cold, eerie blue light shone in their eye sockets.

Each of the stone statues held a stone sword. As the East Sea King and his entourage stepped into the restricted area, the three statues turned their heads simultaneously—their movements were stiff yet perfectly synchronized, and the deep blue light in their eye sockets suddenly shone brightly.

"Tomb-guarding puppets." The King of the East Sea remained expressionless. "The guardians attached to the first layer of restrictions are roughly at the third level of the Grandmaster realm. But they feel no pain, are fearless of death, and will not stop until their core is shattered."

Song Que drew his sword directly, and with a flash of light, he slashed at the neck of the nearest puppet.

Stone chips flew everywhere, and the puppet's head rolled off, but its body still swung its sword, the momentum of which was 30% faster than before. Song Que frowned, and his second slash pierced the puppet's chest cavity. The sword intent penetrated the stone armor and hit a fist-sized blue crystal core inside—with a crisp "crack," the puppet shattered into a pile of rubble.

"Only by destroying the core can it be completely annihilated."

Song Que sheathed his sword and looked back. Tie Zhongtang and Jue Wushen had each dealt with the remaining two puppets. Tie Zhongtang's flagpole pierced through the puppet's breastplate, while Jue Wushen's left fist smashed into the puppet's chest cavity, shattering the crystal core with his fist energy. His methods were more domineering and direct than Song Que's.

The King of the East Sea watched all this with a smile, a barely perceptible hint of satisfaction flashing in his eyes.

He formed a hand seal and pushed forward, a layer of silvery-white energy surging from his fingertips, cutting into the densest part of the chain net as easily as cutting tofu.

The chains vibrated violently, emitting a piercing metallic scraping sound, and then split open in the middle, creating a gap wide enough for three people to walk side by side.

"please."

As Song Que sheathed his sword, he glanced at the ground—the rubble from the three puppets was melting away on its own, turning into gray powder that seeped into the cracks of the stone steps. The King of the East Sea, however, was completely unsurprised by all of this.

The second barrier, located at the four hundredth step, is a gray wall of mist. Countless phantoms can be vaguely seen within the mist, and cries, battle noises, and the clashing of weapons emanate from it, disturbing the mind.

Before the wall of mist stood five more exquisite stone statues. These statues were covered with silver runes, their eye sockets burned with crimson flames, and their joints showed obvious signs of movement, clearly making them more flexible than the three statues in the first level.

The King of the East Sea took the initiative to speak this time:

"These are wandering soul puppets, their cultivation level between the fourth and fifth levels of the Grandmaster realm. They can manipulate phantoms in the mist to solidify into physical attacks, and their attack methods are far more complex than those of the first level."

Before the words were even finished, the five stone statues opened their eyes simultaneously. Crimson light shot into the wall of mist, and sure enough, dozens of gray, semi-transparent figures materialized within the mist, wielding various weapons, and silently roaring as they pounced towards the group.

Song Que's green robe billowed, his sword intent cascading like a waterfall, cleaving three figures in two before heading straight for the puppet's main body.

Tie Zhongtang unfurled his banner, and a wisp of blood-red light from its surface instantly purified the illusions of half the misty wall. Jue Wushen unleashed a barrage of left fists, each punch striking a puppet, shattering its crystal core while simultaneously denting and deforming its body.

Song Que, Tie Zhongtang, and Jue Wushen each dealt with one puppet, while the remaining two were surrounded and killed by the Grandmaster followers behind the East Sea King. After the five puppets shattered, the fog wall thinned considerably, and the East Sea King once again broke the restriction, opening the passage.

As Tie Zhongtang lowered the flag, he whispered to Song Que:

"That old fox knows everything about the puppets' cultivation level, number, and weaknesses; he even told them the fighting strategy in advance."

Song Que nodded silently, rubbing his thumb on the hilt of the knife.

The third barrier is at level 600—a dark red crystal wall blocks the way. The surface of the crystal wall is as smooth as a mirror, reflecting everyone's faces, but the eyes of the people in the mirror are all closed.

Instead of puppets, there was a stone coffin in front of the crystal wall.

The stone coffin was upright, with the lid facing outwards, and a complete sword mark was carved on its surface.

The sword mark penetrated three inches into the coffin, its edges gleaming with a faint golden light, as if the person who left the mark had infused it with a wisp of sword intent that had lingered for a thousand years.