162: Chapter 162 Villains' Plot, Ambush at Storm Canyon (1)

The same night — Black Reef Island, outside the Zhenhai Fortress.

The reefs of Black Reef Island had been eroded by the tides for who knows how many years — their surfaces were covered in deep grooves worn by the seawater, filled with water trapped in the rock crevices after the tide receded.

The sea breeze poured into the gaps between the reefs — the wind turned cold as soon as it twisted through the crevices.

At the highest point of the reef, there was a natural crevice formed by two giant boulders — from the outside, it looked like a stone staircase leading downwards.

The stone steps led down to a hollow less than half a zhang wide — three men in black robes were crouching inside.

The leader crouched in the deepest part of the crevice — when he squatted, his knees pressed against one rock wall while his back rested against the other, wedging him perfectly into the gap.

The lower half of his face, from the bridge of his nose down, was covered by a black cloth — the cloth had been dampened by the salt spray in the evening sea breeze, clinging to his chin and sagging.

He reached out — using his thumb and forefinger, he extracted a small wooden box sealed with an Array Pattern from his robes.

The wooden box was small — about the size of a palm; the Array Pattern on the lid had cracked, its dark red lines barely visible in the dark crevice.

He opened the wooden box. Inside lay three dark red Qi-breaking arrowheads.

The blood grooves on the arrowheads were extremely deep — extending from the base to the tip, with shards of Spirit Stone embedded within them.

The Spirit Stone shards emitted a faint, scraping sound within the blood grooves whenever the arrowheads moved.

He picked up one of the arrowheads — as it neared the sea breeze, the Spirit Stone shards in the blood groove flashed with a brief, dim light for a split second.

The two men behind him were also crouching in the crevice.

One of them was stuffing more arrowheads into a Storage Pouch — these arrowheads were from the same batch, cleared out from the same wooden box.

As he shoved them in, the arrowheads collided inside the bag, producing a muffled, metallic clinking sound.

The sea breeze poured in from outside the crevice — the wind blew the lid of the wooden box, causing it to knock against the reef. Thud. It let out a dull sound — the sound echoed once around the crevice.

The Death Squad Leader closed the wooden box.

A wind rose on Black Reef Island. It was not the wind blowing from the sea onto the reefs — it was a cold, eerie wind rushing from the crevices back out to the sea, surging up from the bottom of the cracks, carrying the cold, damp air that had accumulated in the rock fissures for untold years.

The three men in black had been crouching in the reef crevice for two days and one night.

During the day on the second day, a patrol spirit boat passed by from the north of Black Reef Island — less than three miles from the reef.

The bow light of the patrol spirit boat flashed a momentary white light through the mist, and the youngest Death Squad member pulled his body half a foot deeper into the crevice, his shoulder hitting the rock wall — several barnacle shells attached to the wall were crushed, their fragments falling into the stagnant water with a very faint clink.

The Death Squad Leader did not move. He crouched at the very edge of the crevice — his back to the patrol spirit boat, his left hand resting on his knee, and his right hand pressing on the hilt of his sword.

The white light of the patrol spirit boat swept over the reef — then moved away.

On the night of the third day, a row of dark green dorsal fins emerged from the sea.

The dorsal fins floated up from beneath the water — first, the hardest spine at the tip of the fin emerged, then the entire fin unfurled from tip to base.

The dark green fin membranes were translucent under the moonlight — the tiny blood vessels inside the membranes were arranged in a tree-branch pattern, extending from the root to the tip, with fluorescent dark green blood flowing through them.

One, two, three — in total, about twenty pairs of dorsal fins emerged from the sea surface, stretching from the southern reef wall of Black Reef Island to the area directly in front.

The dorsal fins stopped on the water surface — then, the largest fin in the middle began to move toward the reef.

When The Old Demon emerged from the water, the first thing to break the surface was the row of raised bone crests on the top of his head.

The bone crests were irregular in shape — like old scars that hadn't healed flat after being struck by a blunt object.

Below the bone crests was a face — the facial structure was somewhere between a human face and a fish face; his mouth protruded forward, his lips were extremely thin, and the skin along the edges of his lips was cracked and grayish-white.

His eyes had no eyelids — the surface of his eyeballs was covered by a layer of translucent nictitating membranes, which blinked once in the air before retracting into the inner corners of his eye sockets.

On both sides of his neck were three gill slits — the gill slits flared open in the air for a moment, and the gill filaments stood up in the air for two breaths before softening and collapsing again.

He stood on the water surface for about three breaths, allowing his gill filaments to acclimate to the air — then he spoke.

His accent was extremely heavy — the structure of his tongue and throat was different from that of a human, and when he spoke, the tail end of every word carried a wheezing sound squeezed out from his gill slits.

"The person you mentioned is on the ship — what day will they arrive?"

The Death Squad Leader walked out of the reef crevice. His movements were slow — he found a foothold in the grooves of the reef with every step.

He stood on a low reef about two zhang directly opposite The Old Demon — this distance was exactly at the boundary line between the underwater dorsal fins and the reef.

"Acquired, Hour of the Dragon — they will pass through Storm Gorge."

"Storm Gorge —" The Old Demon repeated the three words. As he repeated them, his nictitating membranes flipped out again — this time, they stayed out for nearly half the time as before. He was already beginning to adapt to the air.

"The waterway is narrow — hemmed in by stone walls on both sides; once the fleet enters the narrowest part in the middle, they won't be able to turn around. Our people will wait underwater — waiting until the leading ship enters the gorge, then we will emerge from both sides to board the ships."

The Old Demon raised his right hand from beneath the water — the scales on his arm shimmered with a dark green fluorescence in the moonlight.

He made a clenching motion with his right hand — as he made a fist, the webbing between his fingers stretched, revealing a layer of extremely thin, grayish-white film under the moonlight.

After clenching his fist, he smashed it downward — the smashing motion was through the air, but when it reached the bottom, the water surface near the reef shuddered.

Ripples spread outward from the edge of the reef — causing the dorsal fins behind him to sink in unison by half a foot.

"After boarding, what about the people on the ships —"

"The armaments are yours." The Death Squad Leader pulled the black cloth down from his face — stopping at his chin.

The part of his face exposed under the moonlight did not exceed his nose bridge — the upper half of his face was obscured by the shadows of the reef.

"The supplies also belong to you. But there is one person —"

"That one surnamed Lu — your target." The Old Demon did not wait for him to finish.

His nictitating membranes retracted — his eyeballs locked directly onto the Death Squad Leader's eyes in the moonlight. "The head is yours."