The water pressure bore down on his lungs, threatening to crush his ribcage.
Qin Lie opened his eyes beneath the surface. In the darkness, only faint specks of light were visible—the cold bioluminescence emitted by deep-sea creatures. The wound on his left shoulder, steeped in seawater, saw its stinging pain gradually give way to numbness. His fingernails elongated, piercing through his gloves to hook into the crevices of the seabed's rocky reefs. His werewolf bloodline constricted in the frigid temperatures; his heartbeat slowed to a mere thirty beats per minute.
Behind him, the sonar signal continued to pulse.
He had left the short sword lodged in a rock crevice; the tracking rune embedded within it continued to emit high-frequency signals. Helicopters belonging to the Silver Cross So
