The body keeps sinking, and the light gets dimmer and dimmer. Gradually, Yan Shan only felt a force to lift himself up. He knew in his heart that when a person falls into the water, his body will eventually surface, which is a natural principle.

He did not hesitate to let his body continue to sink with the technique of a thousand pound pendant. The deeper you enter the water, the more intense the feeling of oppression, and the internal organs are under great pressure. He secretly used his internal strength, and the eight veins of the Qi Sutra were instantly filled with true qi, protecting his body.

Suddenly, he faintly noticed that there was light coming from the bottom of the sea, and when he looked down, it was a point of light.

This is where the underwater palace is located.

Overjoyed, he sank in the direction of the point of light.

Getting closer and closer to the point of light, he saw clearly that that point of light was actually twenty-eight night pearls, dazzling. What surprised him even more was that the twenty-eight night pearls were actually an independent space in the water world, with pavilions, flowers and trees, and small bridges and flowing water, just like a fairyland.

What I saw in front of me was really incredible, like a dream.

With a "bang", he fell from the water into this independent space and fell heavily to the ground. He felt that his bones were going to fall apart. Frightened, he hurriedly secretly used his internal force, only to find that the internal force had disappeared inexplicably, and there was not even a trace of true qi in the eight veins of the Qi Sutra. He could only smile bitterly.

Not far away, there is a hexagonal pavilion, the glazed tile is the top, the golden silk nanmu is the column, simple and luxurious.

He walked to the hexagonal pavilion and saw that the pillars were engraved with the sun, moon and stars, mountains, rivers and plants, which were vivid. Inadvertently, he saw a stone table in the pavilion, and there was a pot of wine and three plates of pastries on the stone table, which still exuded a faint fragrance.

He walked to the stone table and sat down, picked up a piece of pastry and put it in his mouth, only to feel that it was soft and sweet, and the fragrance was overflowing. He poured another glass of wine and drank it all, only to feel mellow and fragrant, and the aftertaste was endless.

He smiled indifferently and muttered to himself: "If there really is a fairyland in the world, maybe it will be nothing more than that!" Before the words fell, he seemed to remember something, reached out and pinched his thigh, and couldn't help laughing at himself.

It's not an illusion.

He stood up and continued walking.

This independent space is not large, and in only half an hour, he has traveled every inch of land here.

There is fruit on the trees, vegetables in the garden, firewood, rice, oil, salt, sauce, vinegar and tea in the kitchen, wine in the cellar, and a sweet spring at the source of the flowing water, but there is no one, not even a small animal.

At the edge of the space, the pale blue water seems to be close in front of you, but you can't touch it or touch it.

Looking up, the underwater world is beautiful, but it is also out of reach.

He returned to the hexagonal pavilion, poured a glass of wine, and fell into deep thought.

How did this independent space come into existence? Where did they go, where did they go, where did they go, where did they go?

He believed that the black-robed man must have been here, so how did he get out?

Here, the plants and trees are eternal, all things are immortal, and there is a faint breath of immortality. But what is the point of such immortality?

There were too many questions and mysteries intertwined, and his heart was in turmoil.

Here, there is no sunrise or sunset, no day or night, not even hunger and thirst.

He just sat quietly at the stone table, holding a wine glass in his hand, his eyes glazed. On the table was a sword, a broken scabbard, a rusty hilt.

In this way, let the time go by, the years go by.

I don't know how long it took, but the dull gaze revealed a trace of deep helplessness.

Nothing seems to come of contemplation.

He stood up, sword in hand, and walked aimlessly.

I don't know the beginning, there is no end, like a walking corpse.

Time is the most merciless, it is always passing and does not wait for anyone.

His heart was even more troubled.

It's a torture, it's an ordeal, but it doesn't leave a trace.

Wonderland is nothing more than that, what can it be?

Even if you can live forever, so what?

He clenched his fists and slammed them the pillar.

There were no wounds, no blood flowing, and the pillar was intact.

He felt a bone-chilling pain coming from his fist, very real.

It is useless to meditate and meditate, it is futile to search blindly, and you can only ask for your own hardships when you are angry, so what else can you do?

Perhaps, only pain can make him truly feel his presence.

Another punch hit the pillar.

The pain to the bone remains.

He didn't stop, punch after punch, constantly hitting the pillar.

Ten fingers connected to the heart, the pain was close to the limit of what human beings could bear, but the heart gradually calmed down.

Finally, he collapsed to the ground, no longer able to gain strength.

Suddenly, a flash of brilliance flashed in his eyes.

"Hahaha......" he laughed, unbridled, even a little crazy.

If a person wants to become a real master, he must go through two things, that is, to enjoy loneliness and get used to loneliness, because loneliness is the belonging after great sorrow and great pain, and loneliness is the sublimation after inner growth and epiphany, and only such a person is qualified to become a real master.

These words were spoken to him by the people he respected the most, who had accompanied him through thousands of mountains and rivers, and spent countless nights with him in the dead of night. He also said it to the little barbarian.

This passage is like an elixir that can make a young heart strong and courageous, and move forward.

After a while, he stood up against the pillar, and slowly walked to the stone table and sat down.

The bone-chilling pain was still there, very real, but there was still no wound on the hand, and of course, no blood was coming out.

All this reveals mystery and weirdness.

He didn't think about it anymore, the clouds were light and the wind was light.

Sometimes, knowing how to let go can you see more clearly and go further.

He reluctantly picked up a piece of pastry and put it in his mouth, it was fluffy and delicious, the taste was familiar, it was the taste of food. Then he picked up another piece of pastry and put it in his mouth, with great difficulty, but very carefully, as if he was afraid that a piece would fall to the ground. Piece after piece, he ate with relish, until the bottom of the three plates, he was still unsatisfied.

After that, he held the flask in both hands, and his face showed awe. Then, he slowly tilted the flask, letting the wine flow slowly into his mouth. He was very careful, and when he drank a pot of wine, not a drop was spilled outside.

It's a good feeling to be full.

At this point, he just wanted to get a good night's sleep. Then, he walked into the house and lay down on the bed, very comfortable.

He was really tired, and as soon as he lay down, he fell asleep and slept very sweetly.

He still had a smile on his face, and he still held the sword in his hand, the broken scabbard, the rusty hilt.