The words had barely left his mouth before Ding Jiazhi's body was snapped clean in two by the constriction. Thick blood sprayed outward, internal organs scattered, and his bulging eyes plummeted into the sea.
With even the Supreme Elder killed in the blink of an eye, the warriors of Cloud Mist Sect had no will left to fight. This monstrous demon beast hadn't even revealed its full form and already displayed such terrifying power — if it showed its true body, who could possibly survive?
The joy of having found the Hidden Island vanished in that instant, replaced by nothing but deep, bone-chilling fear.
Half the great ship had already been dragged beneath the surface, and those enormous tentacles kept lashing against the hull without pause. Each strike tore the vessel apart a little more.
"What do we do?" a Cloud Mist Sect warrior screamed through tears. He was still young, still had a bright future ahead — how could he die here?
The words had barely left his lips before a tentacle smashed him into pulp, leaving behind nothing but a lifetime of unfulfilled ambition.
The scene was hellish. Warriors and ordinary people were no different in this moment — under the assault of those colossal tentacles, anyone who got hit was simply dead.
The Zhenyuan Realm experts saw that even Huo Xianglan had fled for her life, so they naturally vaulted toward the Hidden Island without a second thought, having no concern whatsoever for the fate of their disciples.
But even Zhenyuan Realm experts couldn't escape the attacks from the beast beneath the waves.
Being airborne was no guarantee of safety either. The tentacles seemed to possess eyes of their own, curling with uncanny precision toward the Zhenyuan Realm cultivators flying overhead. One curl, one kill — no negotiation.
Yang Kai watched with a grim expression from start to finish. From the moment the first tentacle appeared until now, no more than ten breaths had passed, yet the Cloud Mist Sect people had already suffered over half casualties. Among the ordinary folk, the death toll was even higher.
Staying on the ship was not safe. In a few more moments the vessel would be smashed to splinters — and even if it wasn't, it would be dragged into the sea.
Jumping overboard might offer a slim chance of survival. Might.
Yang Kai was not the type to sit and wait for death. He let out a furious roar: "Jump off the ship!"
He wasn't doing this out of kindness to warn others. The simple fact was that if he jumped alone, the tentacles would fix on him immediately. But if everyone jumped at once, the beast's attention would be scattered.
Sure enough, the moment Yang Kai's shout rang out, the panicked crowd snapped out of their daze and scrambled to the ship's edge, leaping without hesitation.
Blooms of blood welled up one after another below — clearly, those who jumped hadn't all escaped unscathed. Still, quite a few people had better luck and were swimming with all their might toward the Hidden Island.
Deciding that was enough of a window, Yang Kai leaped as well.
The entire sea surface looked as if it had been brought to a boil. Dozens of people were fleeing in every direction.
Yang Kai swam while keeping careful watch, and before long he noticed something.
Those who swam fast seemed to attract the tentacles more easily. The Cloud Mist Sect warriors all had some movement technique to their name — though many couldn't fly, their swimming speed far outstripped that of ordinary people. Yet it was precisely these people at the front who kept getting snagged by tentacles reaching up from below. Aside from a few bubbles, they simply vanished.
The ordinary folks trailing behind, on the other hand, were seldom attacked.
Yang Kai didn't know how the beast beneath the waves determined its targets, but having noticed the pattern, he naturally intended to use it to his advantage.
He held his breath, stilled his presence, suppressed his heartbeat to its absolute limit, and drifted across the surface like a tiny piece of duckweed — unhurried, calm, edging slowly toward the Hidden Island.
The tentacles ignored him just as he'd hoped.
He was still on edge when a tremendous splashing erupted behind him. Yang Kai's heart lurched, and he turned to see a Cloud Mist Sect warrior swimming toward him with a deathly pale face. The commotion he was making could rival salt tossed into a searing wok.
Yang Kai cursed inwardly.
The warrior closed the distance in an instant, not even glancing at Yang Kai, and grabbed his shoulder — trying to use him as leverage.
At that exact moment, a tentacle extended from behind them both.
Yang Kai and the Cloud Mist Sect warrior both sensed the danger at their backs. The warrior was quick-witted: his grip on Yang Kai's shoulder tightened, and he tried to hoist the boy up and hurl him toward the tentacle.
But Yuan Qi surged into Yang Kai's body, and he merely bobbed slightly upward before sinking right back down.
Instead, Yang Kai struck back with a palm against the man's shoulder. A torrent of powerful, refined Yuan Qi erupted from his hand, sending the warrior flying backward through the air.
"You—" The Cloud Mist Sect warrior's face was a mask of shock and disbelief. Yang Kai's clothes were clearly those of an ordinary passenger on the ship — who could have guessed this "commoner" suddenly possessed the foundation of a cultivator?
Caught completely off guard, he had no time to react before he was launched out of the water.
The tentacle coiled around him in an instant. A scream of agony rang out as every bone in his body was crushed, the shattered fragments piercing his organs. He died in a heartbeat.
Yang Kai dared not move. He fixed his narrowed eyes on the tentacle hanging in the air, watching it with sharp vigilance.
After what felt like an eternity, the tentacle finally withdrew, sinking beneath the surface and disappearing.
Just as he'd suspected — the more you thrashed, the more it targeted you. Staying still and holding one's breath, the way Yang Kai was doing, was in fact the most effective way to survive.
After waiting a while longer, Yang Kai resumed swimming.
The Hidden Island was not far from where the ship had met its fate — but not exactly close either. Roughly ten li or more separated them.