On the top floor of an inn, the South Garden King was dressed as a tribal merchant. He was no longer laughing and talking as he was in previous days. Right now his face was gloomy and twisted up and he paced back and forth like an ant in a hot pot.

This was the eighth day but no news had come back. Even though the royal palace remained calm as usual, he gradually felt an uneasy restlessness.

Just what had happened? Was the Sea Mausoleum really so terrifying? Even that incomparably formidable human cultivator had perished inside?

If this was really true, it was better to extinguish any thoughts of capturing the divine stone.

What nonsense. If the situation was really as he thought, then even if he put the entire capital city to death and also added in all the seafolk of the Bolie Clan, that still might not be enough to fill the gaps between the teeth of the Sea Mausoleum!

He couldn’t...