The sea cloaked in pale mist surged with thunderous waves. Angry tides collided and crashed like a legion of sea beasts roaring in fury.
There, a towering, broad-shouldered figure stood upon the turbulent sea, like a living reef.
He was clad in jet-black armor, forged as though from ten-thousand-year-old black iron, his face as fierce as crashing waves, eyes deep and dark like the abyss—his presence overwhelming.
His thick arms, coiled in blue-golden chains, cradled a massive, pitch-black pillar. Coral reliefs and spiral engravings covered its surface, and the souls of slain demon kings and sea beasts flickered faintly within it. As seawater washed over the pillar, it refracted a dreamy, ghostly blue light, radiating a heavy, oppressive aura.
Waves roared and churned around this giant like a storm made flesh.
Yet amidst this chaos, a lone skiff drifted calmly, completely unaffected.
Atop the skiff stood a white-haired old man, youthful in face, dressed in violet-blue Daoist robes.
