Every step he took fell like a heavy drumbeat, stirring the water with a rushing sound, like a sinister cold lody.
At this mont, Wen Yan could distinctly feel the rules of the Netherworld.
He also sensed that the Netherworld was laying out a path for him.
He understood, too, that this feeling wasn’t the first ti.
The first ti was when he had just entered the Netherworld—back then, he’d gotten drunk at Lord Zhu’s manor, and woke up in the Netherworld.
That ti, the Netherworld had already paved a road for him, giving him the identity of an NPC.
After all, it made perfect sense for there to be a living NPC in the Netherworld, soone who could help players recover their stamina.
This ti, since he was leaving, the Netherworld had no choice but to pave another road, patching up the bug.
Once Wen Yan truly felt all of this, his anxiety faded; he moved at a steady pace, step by step, following a fixed rhythm to write out this lody.
Knowing now that he could leave the Netherworld, he actually started missing those days there.
So naturally, he couldn’t afford to ss around.
The glow beneath his feet slowly expanded, and this river grew ever wider—so wide it seed to turn into an endless sea.
He walked on the seabed; gradually, the Netherworld behind him disappeared completely, and there was still no exit ahead in sight.
He walked on, step by step, in the direction his heart told him was right.
After who knew how long, fragnts of Nether Souls began to appear amid this vast sea.
Just a few steps further, and those scattered Nether Souls thickened, crowding together—countless souls sinking in this place.
Those souls sensed the aura of a living person and surged toward him as one.
Wen Yan couldn’t help but chuckle. What was this supposed to an?
The Netherworld isn’t doing this on purpose, is it?
No way, right?
No way just those Nether Souls could wear him down to death, right?
No way that if he died, that’d count as a little bug getting patched outside the system, right?
After thinking it over, Wen Yan shook his head. The Netherworld’s not exactly sentient—no need to get so paranoid. At worst, it was just the rules of the Netherworld picking the most ’optimal’ solution.
Staring at the swarming Nether Souls, Wen Yan smiled slightly. The Scorching Sun’s Blessing flared around him, setting him aglow as if wreathed in flas—hot waves seething in the water, forcing back every soul that approached.
Not a single Nether Soul could get within fifty ters of him.
He walked on, step by step; the riverbed gradually sloped upward. Bearing a rope on his shoulder, dragging a massive fire basin, he started toward the slope.
In the Nether Soul Realm, that endlessly cycling river now raged and thundered.
Near the edge of the river, Nether Souls boiled up, and the Yang Energy radiating out looked just like leaping flas, surging overhead.
From a distance, it all seed illusory—almost unreal.
Wen Yan continued dragging the Big Fire Basin, heading up the slope beneath the water, but as he walked, he began to sense that sothing felt off.
Everything ahead seed a bit surreal, a little out of focus, like a weird dream.
The feeling of being about to go ashore—strangely, the further he walked, the more that feeling faded, drifting rapidly out of reach.
For a mont, he thought he saw the riverbed ahead growing thicker with silt, making each step harder.
He adjusted his direction just a little—and the water instantly cleared. He could just about make out, in the distance, massive iron chains sunk below the current, and a heavy oppressive force slumbered there.
He pondered a mont, feeling it out carefully. Nope—his direction was off.
He could go ashore if he wanted, but the place he’d reach would be the bank of the Nether Soul Realm.
Not any other place.
With that realization, the sense of direction in his mind imdiately shifted: he should follow the current, heading upstream, not crosswise to go ashore.
Going ashore sideways—no matter how real it seed—it wasn’t the way he needed to go.
Just as he was turning, he suddenly heard the clanking of iron chains. A golden light exploded into view; just a glance—and his eyes stung with pain.
He instantly corrected course, moving along the current, heading upstream.
With a single step, all the clear water vanished from sight, and countless Nether Souls suddenly appeared around him again.
Wen Yan pressed on, nerves taut. He was pretty sure he’d just seen a pair of golden eyes—enormous ones, at that.
As he spun around, he seed to hear a roar, distant as thunder from the ends of the world.
The two words in that roar, though not in modern Mandarin, were unmistakable to Wen Yan: "Scorching Sun."
Wen Yan’s face went pale as ash; without hesitation, he followed the river upstream.
He didn’t understand why his sense of direction compelled him this way—but he was certain he couldn’t go wrong if he followed it.
That brief mont just now, he’d guessed where he’d almost ended up going ashore.
Huge iron chains, golden eyes, an imnse shape—that creature could recognize the Scorching Sun’s blessing on him with a single glance, and was obviously well acquainted with it... and seed to seriously dislike it.
The words Aunt Gan had once warned him with echoed in his ears.
"Rember—never enter the Yellow River or the Huai River."
Wen Yan was so scared he nearly wet himself. What the hell—had the Water Monarch already woken up?
That was the Water Monarch, wasn’t it?
If he’d gone ashore just now—right onto the bank of the Huai River—would he even need to pick a gravesite?
He’d be buried right on the spot in the belly of a Water Monkey—hasn’t happened in thousands of years.
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