However, there were no waves. The next second later, a gentle breeze propelled the raft forward swiftly.
"Lana! She's helping me!"
Nash set down the oars and stood up, looking toward the direction of the island. The island had turned into a tiny black dot, making it impossible to see anyone on it. Nash stared at the island blankly, feeling a mixture of emotions.
Lana's powers had returned.
Would she still see him?
How should he deal with the Jackson family?
Another five days passed. Nash's provisions were almost depleted.
Luckily, he spotted land on the horizon.
As the raft approached the coastline, the land became clearer.
…
It was a desolate plot of black soil. Occasionally, flashes of white light streaked through the air, cutting open the space with dark cracks.
Nash's pupils constricted. If one of those flashes passed through a person, would it split them in half?
Stepping onto the black soil, Nash caught a strong scent of blood. He even speculated that the soil had been dyed black by blood. At the same time, he felt his cultivation returning.
A fist-sized fly flew overhead. Its wings vibrated like cicada wings, emitting waves of sound. Nash's eardrums almost shattered from the sound waves.
A streak of white light flashed by, cutting the fly in half.
Nash watched the fly's body drop to the ground, and he could not help but gulp.
It was fortunate that he had recovered his cultivation, so he should be able to evade these flashes of light.
Nash closed his eyes and inwardly observed his energy center. That was where he saw a baby floating cross-legged, bearing a striking resemblance to himself. The baby was about the size of a fist. It was bald and exuded a purple mist.
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