With a "thud," the master of the seaturtle race knelt on the ground.
"Grandfather, please spare your grandson."
Owen looked at the sea turtle and laughed.
So straightforward?
"You handle it yourself," Owen said dismissively, continuing to walk forward.
Soon after, Finn, wielding his sword, caught up.
He was covered in blood, and around him, there seemed to be faint ghostly presences of a turtle, seahorse, and shark entwined.
Owen understood that Finn had definitely been forced to kill.
"What about the others?" Owen wasn't concerned about the lives of those sea races.
"When we reached this mountain peak to regroup, we were surrounded by those sea races. They were after our lives, so we scattered in different directions. I don't know where they went; they might already be dead."
Finn's face was etched with distress and extreme frustration.
