Black Sail

The salt collecting ship is docked with a little distance from the shore, avoiding getting stranded.

The shallow water just covering their calves is crystal clear, revealing the meandering white quicksand beneath, with foamy emerald tides gently moving. The glaring sunlight reflects off the lake’s surface like a kaleidoscope, casting shimmering patches of light on everyone, turning the waves into a murderous intent in the silence.

Magnus is surrounded in a fan shape by Heavy Priests and Time Swords, trapping him in the shallows, one hand holding an Aran Standard Military Saber, the other a broken knife, the extreme sharpness of the cold glint slicing through every whisper of the wind, as if they were Death God’s cold laughter.

A few priests lie slumped on the shore, their plate armors sliced open, their bulky chest plates removed, exposing monstrous purple-black veins and rough skin covered in brownish-red lumps.

A Time Sword’s Dragon Face Helmet is also cut open, blood streaming down his forehead, blinding his vision.

"With a sect priest as a hostage, if I don’t see your leader, you will never see him again."

Magnus steps around the shore, causing ripples in the lake, his tone indifferent.

In an instant, no one dared to act rashly.

Just then, a girl in a purple ceremonial robe, barefoot, escaped from the salt collecting ship, accompanying her exhausted sobs, the sand and stones at the lake bottom cutting her feet, staining the nearby clear waters red.

Seeing someone confronting these incomprehensible butchers, she seized the lifeline and knelt in the shallows, splashing the water as she clung to Magnus’ trousers, sobbing.

But this is just a hunt.