"Patriarch, there've been several more reported deaths now. The teams are dropping like flies."
Patriarch Nightingale hardly reacted to the words, his expression gloomy. He was practically standing over the Dark River, scanning the entrances again and again.
He had been so confident that they would come out from here, but they didn't. Had he underestimated this person? Was he getting external help? Or could he really swim through the Dark River with such ease?
But if they were that powerful, they could wipe out the Sect with a single finger. Why play these games?
The Patriarch couldn't understand.
The Dark River wasn't just dangerous because of the currents, though someone beneath the Treading Cloud Realm would certainly die if they let themselves be swallowed up by it. A Gold Mancer in the higher tiers could resist for a short while, but it would only last so long before their Mana ran out and they were bashed into a meaty pulp.
Even so, the main danger was still the beasts.
