It was hard to tell how much time had passed, but the rain had become lighter, the wind had also calmed down, and the sounds of fighting were no longer heard. Zhang Xiaohua's body gradually stopped moving. However, at this moment, the wooden planks floating quietly beside his body appeared to have fallen into a turbulent river, one by one accelerating and quickly flowing in a particular direction. This was even faster than the wind blowing before, and his body also went along, drifting rapidly into the depths of the ocean.
This was the rare undercurrent in the middle of the ocean.
The next day, shortly after the storm had passed with a few dark clouds still remaining, the early morning sun had barely risen, tinting the edge of the dark cloud with its orange hue.
