The fierce wind didn't last long. After arriving in a certain area, it calmed down.
This was a quiet area—no fierce winds, no singing, like sailing on a calm lake.
Yet the quieter it got, the more uneasy they felt, and the white-haired old man's face was full of severity.
He gestured for everyone to stay silent and leaned over to look underwater. The sea was pitch black, nothing could be seen.
But he could sense something lurking below, seemingly aware of them.
The small wooden boat quietly slid forward, very gently.
"What is that!"
Someone exclaimed softly.
A slender, tentacle-like object rose slowly from the sea, not large, as tall as the boat, with a round, fleshy eyeball at the tip, continuously contracting.
The eye twisted as it scrutinized them, seemingly curious.
The person next to him raised his gun, but the white-haired old man held him back: "Don't act rashly, it apparently harbors no hostility; if we anger it, we won't escape."
