Outside the small cavern in the sea area, there was a scene of rivers boiling and the sea steaming with rising water continually exploding upwards.
Huge waves kept crashing, fog instantly enveloping dozens of miles, casting indistinct shadows that appeared so faint and ethereal.
"The Central Continent is still so barren!"
After taking a deep breath, the silhouette exhaled a turbid breath, instantly dispelling all the fog.
The Daoist appeared middle-aged, his long black hair hung down, loosely tied in a bun atop his head, his face emotionless, indifferent to the extreme.
Beside him were four figures: one with a square face and a tall stature, exuding authority without anger, holding a pagoda in his hand.
One with a smiling face, round cheeks, yet giving off a distinctly false sense of happiness, holding a jade flute that seemed to create a melody of its own.
