The fierce wind didn’t last long. After arriving in a certain area, it calmed down.

This was a quiet area—no fierce winds, no singing, like sailing on a calm lake.

Yet the quieter it got, the more uneasy they felt, and the white-haired old man’s face was full of severity.

He gestured for everyone to stay silent and leaned over to look underwater. The sea was pitch black, nothing could be seen.

But he could sense something lurking below, seemingly aware of them.

The small wooden boat quietly slid forward, very gently.

"What is that!"

Someone exclaimed softly.

A slender, tentacle-like object rose slowly from the sea, not large, as tall as the boat, with a round, fleshy eyeball at the tip, continuously contracting.

The eye twisted as it scrutinized them, seemingly curious.

The person next to him raised his gun, but the white-haired old man held him back: "Don’t act rashly, it apparently harbors no hostility; if we anger it, we won’t escape."

Then, more of those eyes emerged from the sea, standing at the water’s surface, staring at them, rotating as they moved.

This situation continued until the next morning before those eyes disappeared, and no danger occurred.

Everyone’s eyes were bloodshot, filled with red lines, finally breathing a sigh of relief.

It seemed like they had escaped this calamity.

"Director, what exactly is that? It noticed us but didn’t attack," said the officer, Wang Hong, holding a rifle in his arms, with a face filled with trepidation.

The white-haired old man shook his head: "I’m not entirely sure, but I can sense that all those eyes belong to one creature, and that creature is colossal."

"Perhaps killing us wouldn’t profit it, so it didn’t bother to attack."

Another younger team member exclaimed: "Those eyes belong to one creature? How big must it be, that’s terrifying. We’ve actually survived."

Wang Hong stretched his somewhat stiff body, turned his head, and said: "Being large doesn’t mean threatening; sea whales are large, yet they eat small fish and shrimp."

The white-haired old man nodded in agreement: "You’re right, but we can’t conclude its nature from this. Still, this is a good path to save people if we can return."

It was close to dawn.

The horizon spilled golden light; the sun was invisible, the sea surface remained ink-black.

Under such a sunset, everyone felt an unprecedented warmth.

For humanity, the sun is like a mother, and this world seems like a child about to leave its mother’s embrace.

In their forward direction, remnants of tall buildings appeared on the sea’s surface; the closer they got to the shore, the lower the water level, and the more structures they could see.

"Eat something, Director, you haven’t eaten all day." Wang Hong handed a sealed bag of biscuits to the white-haired old man.

The white-haired old man glanced at the biscuits and waved them off: "There’s not much food left, you eat; I can survive without eating, but if you don’t, you’ll die."

"Save some for Zhong Jueqing; seems like he’s not dead yet."

Wang Hong always obeyed this director without contradiction, just nodded: "A portion has been prepared for him; Vice Director Zhong is as talented as anyone, perhaps he’ll become Extraordinary."

The white-haired old man gazed afar, saying: "It’s unrelated, it’s all about luck. The thing Team 17 created should help him, just not sure if he’ll survive until then."

Although there were many building remnants at sea, they saw no living people, only dead silence; those unable to escape had perished, except them.

Such a scenario likely occurred not only here but globally, as the world’s sea level had risen, covered by this black sea.

"What’s that!" A person pointed to the sky, exclaiming.

A large flock of black dots appeared in the distant sky, soon revealing themselves as large white birds, resembling seagulls but gigantic, each the size of their small boat.

"Looks like they’re searching for food, prepare for battle!"

The white-haired old man shouted, drawing a pistol from his waist, firing at the giant birds, attempting to scare them away.

The white giant birds had remarkably smooth feathers; bullets slid past their feathers without causing harm.

These giant birds retained their beastly nature and were clearly startled by the gunfire; except for a few fierce ones, the rest flew away.

The old man exerted his legs forcefully, leaping towards the giant birds, colliding with them in the air, pulling them into the water.

The giant bird and the old man fell into the water together, moments later, the surface stirred with blood, and the old man climbed back onto the edge of the boat, soaking wet, covered in wounds, gasping for breath:

"Quickly leave here; this could attract those things underwater."

One white giant bird had already flown away with someone, while the other birds were scared off.

Wang Hong showed a pleased expression, saying: "Director, they’ve been scared away."

The white-haired old man’s face remained severe, watching the surface, saying: "No, they weren’t afraid of us, but of something else."

No sooner had he spoken.

The black water surface churned into a massive whirlpool, accompanied by roaring sounds, like a monster opening its great mouth.

The small wooden boat slid downwards with the whirlpool, and the people onboard could only watch, powerless against it.

The whirlpool was enormous, with a radius of over ten or twenty meters.

Soon after.

The small wooden boat capsized, everyone was dragged into the water, met only by endless darkness and the feeling of being submerged.

The water was very heavy, ordinary people found it hard to move within, as if buried in sand.

The storm came swiftly and receded just as quickly, leaving the sea calm again, with fragments of the boat floating on the surface, seemingly no one had survived.

Moments later, an old hand emerged from the water, and the white-haired old man dragged Zhong Jueqing and Wang Hong onto the boat’s debris.

Wang Hong coughed himself awake, surveyed the surroundings, full of gratitude towards the old man: "Thank you, Director."

"We must leave here immediately; something remains below." The white-haired old man gasped, gripping an oar abandoned on the water’s surface, rowing ahead.

Each of his strokes was strong, advancing quickly without slowing.