The waves surged, extending into a deep blue expanse.
The fishy smell of the sea breeze blew over, and Mo Li stood at the bow, his face etched with the traces of wind and frost.
He gazed at the unchanging waters in the distance, and at the several dozen ships floating upon the sea, his eyes filled with deep concern.
It had already been a year and a half since they had set out to sea, sailing against the waves. Along the way, they didn't know how many storms, thunderstorms, and whirlpools they had encountered.
At one point, they even experienced a great cold wave where a thousand miles of sea surface in one region froze into an ice field, trapping their fleet in a world of ice and snow for half a year, unable to move.
Under extreme cold, even though they were cultivators with magic power at their disposal, the closer they approached the North Pole, the colder Heaven and Earth became.
