The sleeves of Yun Ya's robe flapped loudly in the salty sea breeze as he gripped the railing of the Spirit Boat, gazing at the space rift in the distance that was closing.
The fissure stretching across the horizon was like the gaping jaws of a ferocious beast, with the lingering Gang Wind stirring the seawater into a vortex, pieces of broken ice spinning at its edge, reflecting shimmering silver lights.
"Master." Yun Ya's Adam's apple bobbed as his fingertips unconsciously picked at the defensive formation patterns engraved on the railing. "Can we really get through that?"
Si Lingle glanced down, wiping the Qingchu Sword, its blade reflecting her fierce face, "Afraid?"
As the sword blade returned to its sheath, it emitted a clear and resonant dragon's roar, and she saw Yun Ya's back straightening instantly.
