By the River of the Dead, in the West Sea of the Heaven Patrolling Zone.
An older and a younger rogue cultivator waited patiently by the riverbank for the "trash" flowing from the River of the Dead.
The young rogue cultivator appeared to be in his early twenties, but his true age far exceeded his youthful appearance.
He had a somewhat roguish, carefree air about him. He sat cross-legged on a broad magic sword, holding a fishing rod-like magic artifact in his hand. Instead of bait, its line ended in a meticulously refined hooked grapnel.
The older rogue cultivator emanated a faint spirit light, standing in mid-air without relying on any magic artifact. Clearly, having already established his Spirit Sea, he no longer needed a magic artifact to fly.
In his hands, he held a fishing net woven from golden threads and iron chains.
"Second Uncle, for the past two years, all we've found is useless junk. Even the treasure-seeking merchants can't be bothered to take it."
