The pitch-black night had quietly retreated, and a gray mist rose within the forest. Small birds, emerging to feed, chirped excitedly as the breeze rustled the dry yellow leaves on the ground, whispering softly.
However, twenty meters from the deep pool, Zhou Feng was suspended, bare-skinned. No one knew how long it had been, nor how many times he had endured needle-like pain. Zhou Feng had finally reached his current depth limit, twenty meters, and even the pressure in the pool seemed inconsequential to him.
In his current state, Zhou Feng's mind was blank, his face a pallid blue-grey, as if it were a slab of stone, emitting a cold rigidity.
Just as Zhou Feng's consciousness was truly entering chaos, his left hand began instinctively controlling the pool's water. Blue waters continuously swirled, a thin layer of pale blue flow surrounded his body. Compared to the thinness of a cicada's wings at the start, the water shield had doubled in thickness.
