Jaxon stood on the deck of the Azure Eagle. The wind was weak and smelt of nothing but salt and emptiness. He hated this place.
The Endless Ocean was a vast, boring expanse of blue, a dead zone that separated the real world from the forgotten lands known as the Wastelands.
For some reason, the ocean did not have any life forms capable of using spiritual energy.
A team of outer disciples, weak and useless but still bearing the sigil of the Azure Sky Palace, had been sent to investigate a strange energy pulse.
They had all died. Their life tokens had shattered. How could they die? Something, or someone, in the Wastelands had the power to kill cultivators from the Mainland.
Jaxon found the idea ridiculous. The Wastelands were a joke, a primitive backwater filled with weaklings whose cultivation barely reached the level of a fool soldier back home.
For an entire team to be wiped out was an embarrassment to the sect.
