The Deep

Chen Guan looked into the depths of the sea well and retrieved a Water-Repelling Pearl. The icy seawater's vapor settled on its surface, quickly forming a thin layer of frost. As he held it in his palm, a transparent membrane of air spread out from the pearl, pressing against his clothes to create a thin insulating layer.

Guan Jinyue also activated a Water-Repelling Pearl. The two of them walked one after the other to the edge of the well, stepped onto the inner wall, and slid downward using the ice.

Their figures soon disappeared into the dark sea well.

Above them, the wind and snow were cut off by the ice cap.

The icy seawater pressed against them, blocked by the air membrane expanded by the pearl.

Chen Guan stepped onto the protruding ice ridges on the well’s inner wall, descending bit by bit. The light from the well entrance quickly shrank to a small patch.

The deeper they went, the heavier the cold became.

This cold seeped into sight, into sound, making everything sluggish.

Chen Guan raised his right hand.

The black mark on his palm still held no warmth.

Emotional perception was completely useless here.

No—it wasn’t that it was useless; it was that there were simply no living creatures inside, so naturally, there was nothing to sense.

Baal’s voice came through intermittently, as if muffled by a vast body of water.

“Kid… don’t rely on me too much… my… signal’s bad…”

It was easy to tell that it really was bad.

Hearing this, Chen Guan looked at his feet. At the end of the sea well, a horizontally extending black passage appeared.

The entrance was embedded deep within the ice, with no door or guards—only a ring of stone steps polished smooth by seawater.

Guan Jinyue landed on the stone steps first, her expression alert. She had clearly also received Baal’s warning about the signal disruption.

The air membrane held open by their Water-Repelling Pearls pushed the seawater to the sides. The moment their feet touched the stone surface, faint silver lines lit up along the entire passage.

She raised her hand to stop Chen Guan: “Don’t move.”

He stopped half a step behind her. The dark silver lines spread along the walls inward, then quickly faded.

Guan Jinyue’s sleeve glowed with silver light, and Chen Guan held his scythe horizontally at his side—both of them were on high alert.

But after waiting for a long while, nothing happened.

It seemed they had been tricked…

The two exchanged a glance and continued forward.

The passage was long.

The walls on both sides were made of black stone, covered in a layer of fine white frost.

The farther they went, the less the seawater pressed in. After about a hundred meters, a half-open stone door appeared ahead.

There was no water beyond the door. The moment Chen Guan stepped through, the air membrane from the Water-Repelling Pearl retracted automatically.

Guan Jinyue looked at the patterns on the doorframe: “The space here has been separated.”

Chen Guan looked up. The doorframe was carved with intricate lines—lines that didn’t form any formation structure he recognized. Once again, it was a damn blind spot in his knowledge.

Guan Jinyue reached her hand toward the doorframe. Before her fingertip even touched it, the silver spatial fracture lines were forced back into her palm.

She withdrew her hand, her expression turning grave. “My ability has been suppressed another layer.”

Chen Guan looked at her. “Can you still get in?”

“Yes,” Guan Jinyue answered without hesitation.

With that, she drew a longsword and flicked it into a flourish. Conveniently, aside from spatial abilities, she also had some skill with the blade.

When Chen Guan saw that sword, familiar memories surged back. He recalled Guan Jinyue’s bizarre and unpredictable swordsmanship.

“That’s good enough.”

Guan Jinyue paused for a moment, then said, “Also, if we really end up in a situation where we can’t escape, you can leave me behind.”

Chen Guan didn’t stop walking. “Do you think I’m that kind of person?”

With that, he carried his scythe and stepped through the door.

Guan Jinyue watched his back for half a breath before following.

She had been serious when she said that.

Beyond the stone door was a wider corridor with murals on the walls.

Chen Guan slowed his pace, studying each one.

The murals were ancient in style, their colors mostly faded, though some patterns remained clear.

A sky with no stars.

A city floating in darkness.

And a figure draped in a long robe.

That person stood at the center of all things, their face lacking any features—a deliberately blank space.

Chen Guan stared at that figure, his grip tightening on his scythe.

His instinct told him this was the Lord of Nothingness.

Guan Jinyue keenly noticed his change. “Have you seen this before?”

Chen Guan walked up to the mural, stopping his hand half an inch from the stone surface, and let out a soft “Mm.”

Guan Jinyue looked at the mural.

“Is this… a demon god?”

“I don’t know.”

Chen Guan shook his head. Now that Guan Jinyue mentioned it, he realized he didn’t even know whether the Lord of Nothingness was a righteous god or a demon god.

For example, his tenant Baal was a demon god, having ascended from demonhood. Righteous gods, on the other hand, ascended from humanity.

But strangely, after taking their positions as gods, these beings had all vanished from sight. In the end, only demon gods like Baal remained active in the world.

He continued forward along the murals.

The first section depicted the city in darkness.

In the second section, the faceless robed figure descended from a high platform, surrounded by countless beings kneeling—resembling creatures of various kinds, their appearances unclear.

Some had wings, some had massive bodies, and others had forms twisted beyond recognition.

All beings bowed their heads.

Only the robed figure walked forward.

Guan Jinyue looked for a moment.

“Is this after He became a god?”

Chen Guan shook his head. “It might also be that later people portrayed Him this way.”

He said this because, in the previous ruins, the figure’s face had been scratched out.

In the mural before them, although the face was still absent, it was entirely intact and undamaged—completely different from last time.

Given that this place was told to him by Yue Teng, Chen Guan suspected it was likely constructed by later followers. Perhaps they were believers of the Lord of Nothingness, who built this place after He had left the world, sealing it for years beneath this ice ocean where no creature could survive.

If that was the case, Chen Beixuan’s true identity was deeply intriguing.

Chen Guan moved on. At the end of the corridor, descending steps appeared.

On both sides of the steps stood half-human-high stone lanterns. There was no fire in them, but they emitted a faint blue glow.

Every time Chen Guan took a step downward, the murals on the walls changed.

The initial sense of supreme grandeur gradually faded.

Beside the robed figure in the murals, another shape appeared.

It was a child, about half the height of the robed figure.

The child was very small, wearing a tattered cloak, and always followed behind the robed figure.

In the first mural, the child sat beside ruins, and the robed figure stood before it, reaching out a hand.

In the second, the two crossed a desert, the child clutching the hem of the robe.

In the third, they stood by the sea, the robed figure pointing into the distance. The child looked up at the sky, where stars flickered.

In the fourth, they walked through a human city. The townspeople threw stones at them, and the robed figure shielded the child.

In the fifth, they entered a snowy plain. The child carried a pack larger than itself, while the robed figure walked ahead, turning back to wait.

The more Chen Guan watched, the lower his brows furrowed.

This was nothing like the Lord of Nothingness he had imagined.

These murals didn’t sing praises of a deity. Instead, they recorded a shared path walked by two people.