The riverbank was deserted. Wu Liangchen took off his outer clothes, placed them on a tree by the bank, and with a single leap, plunged into the water.
The river water was bone-chilling, but for Wu Liangchen, it was just right.
He swam to the middle of the river, held his breath, and dove toward the bottom.
Instantly, the sound of the rain vanished, replaced by the muffled drone of the water.
Wu Liangchen sank a good seventeen or eighteen meters before reaching the bottom. The water pressure at this depth was already at the limit of what an ordinary person could withstand.
Yet Wu Liangchen merely felt a slight strain.
Once he had settled, Wu Liangchen looked around. The riverbed was shrouded in darkness, with schools of fish occasionally swimming past.
Forget the water pressure; the oppressive, dark environment alone was enough to make one's blood run cold.
At that moment, Wu Liangchen felt an indescribable loneliness, as if he were the only person left in the world.
