In the prison, Carson Flores wasn’t the only one locked up; there were more than a dozen people.
These people were all dressed as Sea God Sect disciples, their eyes all falling in unison on Carson.
"Brother, what are you in for?"
Carson replied, "Went out to run so errands, got so benefits, and soone ratted out."
"How long are you in for?"
"One year!"
The crowd withdrew their attention, as if suddenly losing interest in Carson.
Isn’t taking benefits while doing outside work sothing everyone does?
This guy was just unlucky to get reported.
Clearly, this guy isn’t soone impressive, has no background, otherwise, with a little activity, a year’s sentence could be easily waived.
An ordinary small figure, nothing worth noting.
The cell was simple, neither made of special materials nor covered by a powerful formation, just a plain prison, yet everyone stayed inside the cell, not daring to step out of the wooden bars that a finger poke could break through.
This is the headquarters of the Sea God Sect, even if you got out of this cell, would you be capable of escaping?
As the prison guard said, none of us were serious criminals; although Suffering Pray Sea is hard to endure and sowhat dangerous, with patience, you get through it, but if you dare to escape, getting caught will lead to a more severe punishnt.
Carson proactively struck up a conversation: "I’ve heard Suffering Pray Sea is tough to endure. Is that true?"
A middle-aged man responded, "Sure, it is tough! The spiritual tide makes the body stiff, like thousands of small knives slicing at you. If you’re strong enough, with a more resilient Immortal’s Body, it might be better, but if you’re weaker, it’s a fate worse than death."
Soone added, "It’s said that many who enter Suffering Pray Sea can’t bear the continued pain of the spiritual tide and choose to take their own lives."
"It’s all an ordeal. Those who commit suicide are the ones who can’t hold on, who snap ntally."
"If you want to get out early, work hard to find more clam pearls, which can reduce your sentence ti."
"Clam pearls aren’t that easy to find! Forget about reducing your sentence; if unlucky and you don’t gather enough pearls, even with a full sentence, you won’t leave until you find enough pearls to go free."
"I have a friend who’s been there. He says staying is worse than death, and as a place of exile, Suffering Pray Sea is chaotic—if you’re not careful, forget about clam pearls, you could beco prey for others. Were it not for the rule against killing, it would’ve been a bloodbath. Even so, robbery is common."
"Then wouldn’t those weaker ones never be able to gather enough clam pearls?"
"Not really. If you manage to collect pearls, you should hand them over to the Guardian imdiately to avoid being robbed. Of course, if confident in your abilities, you can keep them."
The crowd chattered about matters in Suffering Pray Sea, and Carson gleaned a lot from their talk.
Carson watched the lively discussion, his gaze fixing on a corner of the cell.
A stern-faced middle-aged man sat cross-legged against the wall, hands on his knees, eyes closed, seemingly uninterested in the conversation.
Soone asked, "I have a close brother who’s been in Suffering Pray Sea for years. How can I find him?"
Carson suddenly turned his head, for he wanted to ask the sa question.
"Spiritual tide sses up everything in Suffering Pray Sea. Even with a Spiritual Imprint, you might not sense anything; using the Bloodline Traction Technique could work, but if you can’t or don’t have the person’s blood, you’re out of luck. You’d need to inquire inside Suffering Pray Sea, hoping for the best."
Carson frowned.
He could use the Bloodline Traction Technique, but he didn’t have Lorvian Randall’s blood.
This path was clearly blocked!
Soone asked excitedly, "There’s a marketplace in Suffering Pray Sea? Where is it?"
"Reportedly on a small island, a self-ford trading market by strugglers there; it’s a place of barter where clam pearls are the hardest currency, always in high demand."
Looks like he’ll have to go there to inquire about Lorvian Randall. As a Saint Heir, his unique status should make him easy to find, right?
Carson turned his head, his gaze stopping abruptly.
The middle-aged man with closed eyes was staring at the speaker. Sensing Carson’s gaze, he shifted his focus, their eyes clashing in mid-air like two invisible blades colliding.
Carson, not wanting trouble, bowed slightly to the man and averted his gaze.
The middle-aged man eyed Carson with a hint of peculiarity in his gaze.
Carson sensed the oddity in the man’s gaze, his heart skipping a beat, worried he’d given sothing away.
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