The exact location of the boat's journey was unclear now. The current of the river grew swift, causing the small boat to sway gently, as if it were an uneasy fish.
Chen Yi turned his head to look out. On Beiyao River, there were many small islands, none too large, barely enough to accommodate a dozen people, and a dozen blades. The old boatman pushed against the pole feebly, each movement appearing as if he were struggling futilely against the turbulent waters...
The small boat gradually followed the current, drifting toward the eerie and shadowy islands.
The boatman spoke, "Young master, mind your balance. The river current is strong and the boat unstable."
"Old boatman, how about I tell you a story?"
The man carrying the long blade suddenly broke the silence and spoke.
"A story?" The old boatman furrowed his brows in confusion.
"Yes. Old boatman, have you heard of the tale of Zixu crossing the river?"
