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Chapter 165: Overseas Perils
Chapter 165: Overseas Perils
Amid boundless seas cloaked in endless gloom, a golden vessel blazed through stormy waves, its radiance parting the turbulent waters like a celestial guardian.
No matter how thunder cracked across the skies or waves surged from the depths, the ship remained unshaken.
A mid-tier Spirit Treasure—the Void-Crossing Golden Ship! Forged by a Chongguang True Man, this artifact proved invaluable in the chaotic spiritual energy of the open ocean, slicing through storms with unmatched prowess.
At the bow stood Lv Yang, hands clasped behind him as he gazed into the distance.
“The spiritual energy here is too violent,” he murmured. His cultivation allowed him to see clearly—those endless clouds, crashing waves, and roaring thunder were all manifestations of wild, untamed spiritual power.
“Unlike the continent’s stable currents, the ocean’s spiritual energy is wildly unstable. Ordinary cultivators can’t even contain it. This chaos births monstrous storms, and combined with the sea’s natural ferocity, creates an insurmountable barrier.”
The overseas realm was no place for the unprepared. Even the ten-thousand-mile Thunderous Maelstrom here rivaled Lv Yang’s Twelve Heavens Divine Malevolence Secret Demon Calamity Light in raw might—and it never ceased. Being trapped inside was near-certain death for even Refining Qi Perfection adepts.
Fortunately, while the storms held terrifying power, they lacked sentience. Foundation-Building cultivators could still brave the crossing. Otherwise, even they’d be helpless.
“My opportunity,” Lv Yang mused, fingers tracing calculations in the air. Activating his Ultimate Heaven Instrument, his forehead’s third eye snapped open, unleashing a golden beam that pierced the gloom. The light revealed a distant vessel—tiny compared to his own.
“Other overseas cultivators?” His eyes sharpened.
Above, a thousand golden serpents of lightning lashed the skies, while below, surging currents threatened to swallow the sea. A three-masted ship—the Azure Dragonship—bucked wildly in the maelstrom.
“Hold steady! Come on, hold steady!” Chen Xinghai, the ship’s helmsman, gripped the wheel with white-knuckled desperation. He’d expected routine salvage work near the border, but returning home, they’d blundered into the legendary Ethereal Maelstrom. Now, no matter his efforts, escape proved impossible.
As a child, his father had spoken of a golden paradise beyond the storm. Back then, Chen dismissed it as nonsense—no one ever survived the Maelstrom. Now, he prayed his father’s tale held truth.
Crack!
A sickening snap echoed. Chen turned to see a crewman’s face ashen.
“Captain… we’re done for.”
“Silence!” Chen barked, though dread clawed at him too. The Celestial Sea-Warding Talisman etched by an Immortal Alliance cultivator—once glowing brightly—now bore hairline fractures. Its protective light dimmed, nearing collapse.
In the Maelstrom, a shattered talisman meant annihilation.
“Get the immortal master!” Chen roared. A paid guardian from the Immortal Alliance still slumbered below. But when the cultivator arrived, hope crumbled—his face slack, eyes vacant, lost in some unseen trance.
“Possessed!” Chen realized. The Maelstrom’s horror: a battlefield of ancient cultivators against invading fiends. The dead’s lingering souls now fueled these storms, ensnaring the strong-minded first.
“Captain! What do we do!?”
The crew’s cry snapped him back. What could he do? A mere fisherman without the Azure Dragonship’s protection, he’d already be ash.
He slumped, laughing bitterly. “No hope. Just wait for death.”
But then—the Maelstrom’s endless gloom rippled.
Golden light tore through it like a blade, and the storm parted.
From the rift emerged a thirty-six-tiered golden ship, its sheer mass dwarfing the Azure Dragonship. It cut through the chaos like a divine mountain, waves flattening in its wake.
Chen’s eyes widened. The Maelstrom had met its match.
In a flash, he sprang upright, shouting to the heavens. “Immortal Sage! Save us!”
The world spun.
When Chen looked again, the Maelstrom was gone—replaced by calm waters and clear skies. Before him stood the ship’s savior: a figure radiant as morning sun.
“Chen Xinghai of the humble folk greets Sage!” Bowing deeply, he rushed forward. “Thank you, Sage, for rescuing us!”
Lv Yang arched a brow. He’d saved Chen to learn about the overseas lands—but the man spoke perfect True Words, the official dialect recognized by Holy Sect, Sword Pavilion, and Pure Land. No ordinary foreigner learned this tongue. Either Chen had ties to the mainland… or his people did.
(End of Chapter)
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