There was a long moment of stillness, where Harry just stared at the now-closed gap above him. His eyeballs protruded out their sockets, and he felt his heart stop. He was dumbfounded.

'This – are you fucking kidding me?' Harry let out an underwater scream.

The two halves of the Swan Seamount closed on top of him!

No matter how he looked at it, the fissure that ran along the Swan's Seamount was closed. And he was trapped inside!

'What the hell is this? Nobody told me the Swan's Seamount could close!'

'Open up! Open up!' he screamed, and swam to ceiling of this prison. His dug his webbed hands into the hairline crack where the fissure once was, and attempted to pull it open with all his might.

Of course, nothing happened. The Swan's Seamount remained firmly closed. He switched to pounding his fists against the hard metal, and the only result was that his knuckles ached.

'How can this be happening?' Harry felt like he was going to go crazy. Since when could the Swan's Seamount close?

Perhaps that was its natural state, and the seamount only opened to erupt. But if that were so, how come no one ever mentioned that about the Swan's Seamount? Surely, the ability of this massive thing to close itself was worthy of discussion.

He had been in a hellish situation, but managed to reverse his fortune in an incredible stroke of luck. It was exactly as if he found a path out of Hell that took him right into Heaven. And then the next thing he knew… he fell straight back to Hell again.

'I just knew I celebrated too early,' he moaned. Nothing good ever came out of celebrating too early.

'I got greedy. If I just ignored these plants and swam to the shore, I might have made it out. But I accidentally provoked that Magic Beast… and now look at me.'

He regretted leaping into the Swan's Seamount, regretted it with all his might. But at the moment, it was the only place he could have fled to. How was he to know this structure could close?

'Should I stay here and wait for it to open?' he thought in resignation. But no, what if the seamount didn't open for a few more hours? Or worse, what if it remained closed for weeks, or years?

The pills would wear off and he'd drown here, that's what would happen. He'd never be found – actually, that wasn't completely true. He'd be found the next time the Swan's Seamount erupted. His corpse would be found, that is.

Using the light emanating from the Natural Essence, he took a good look around his surroundings. The inside of the Swan's Seamount was like a very long box, while the fissure was just a thin slot that ran along the top. He swam along the interior of the seamount, but he already knew what he'd find.

Nothing but the smooth metal wall. He was trapped.

A part of his mind wondered if this was the true purpose of the Swan's Seamount. What if the Natural Essences were there to entice humans, and once someone went inside, the trap shut for some nefarious purpose? He didn't believe for a moment it was a coincidence the seamount closed immediately after he entered.

But, he recalled there were stories about the few cultivators who had made it down, and even brought treasures back with them. How come the Swan's Seamount hadn't closed on them?

'At the very least, I should have three hours until the pills wear off,' Harry estimated. It was a complete guess, and a rather conservative one, but he wasn't willing to take more chances. If he didn't make it out of here within the next three hours, he would die.

'Now, as for getting out of here…' Harry let the thought trail out of his mind.

He didn't have a single clue.

This time, there was no flash of inspiration, no stroke of genius or impossible coincidence to save him. There was only the watery prison around him.

And as that realization settled in, so did panic.

'No!' he frantically thought. 'I just finished the Nameless Technique, I just got the Metal Qi and Water Qi, I was just about to make my escape, so how can this be happening to me now? I don't want to accept it!'

'No! No! No!'

'I don't want this!'

He was breathing heavily, hyperventilating. He felt a hammering in his chest, a pounding drum trying to beat its way out. An overwhelming sense of helplessness engulfed his mind.

'What do I do?' he moaned into empty prison.

He was trapped!

'What do I do? What do I do? WhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdo – '

All of a sudden, he found his head breached the water surface, and a sharp pain stung his neck as his gills tried to breath in air. He quickly dunked his head below the surface.

'Huh? There's air? No – the water's sinking!' he realized with a jolt.

Indeed, the water level within the Swan's Seamount was sinking, slowly but at a noticeable rate. To stay under the water level, Harry had to continuously push himself downwards. All around him, streams of air bubbled upwards from the dark depths.

'There's air down there, and it's rising up here! Then – that means, the water is being drained down, and air is coming up!'

Harry's mind worked quickly to reason out an explanation. Perhaps the speculations about there being a pressure chamber down below were true. The pressure chamber was practically a big bubble of air, and the water sat above it. Once the Swan's Seamount closed, the water would sink into the chamber, while the air would float upwards.

Or something like that. It was just his best guess, but he felt it was true.

'But if that's true, that's even worse. I'm sinking even further underground – as if I wasn't already deep enough,' he bitterly thought.

Was he heading straight to the bottom? And now that he thought about it, what even was at the bottom? For centuries, maybe millennia, that question had been a mystery. Perhaps he would be the first person unlucky enough to find out.

Or perhaps, this was the precursor to the water eruptions. Although the Elders had said the last eruption should be the last one, no one really understood the Swan's Seamount. It was totally possible that there could be another. But Harry didn't know what to wish for – if this wasn't an eruption, then he would be trapped, and if it was an eruption, he would be caught inside it, and he was doubtful he would survive.

The walls of the seamount glowed bright orange, and the light in his hand glowed bright blue. Together, it meant the interior of the structure was lit very brightly – though not the bottom. When he looked down, he couldn't see the depths, just a shaft of darkness, with endless streams of bubbles rising up. The Swan's Seamount was said to be five miles long – perhaps it was also five miles deep.

His arms and legs were continuing to tread water, trying to push himself down and stay below the water level. The ceiling of the seamount was rapidly fading, the only proof that he was indeed sinking. After a few minutes, he was no longer able to see it.

That also meant he had no way to get back up. There was no way he could climb the perfectly smooth walls of the Swan's Seamount. After the water finished receding, he'd be stuck at the bottom of a very deep shaft.

He descended further and further, into the dark depths, while bubbles of air continuously streamed upwards, as if he were floating in a sea of them. The scenery never changed, and he may as well have been moving still. All he saw was the eerie water around him, lit both blue and orange, along with the darkness below.

Downwards…

Downwards…

Downwards…

Harry settled into an easy rhythm, and used it to keep track of time. He could do 20 strokes in a minute, so he counted up in increments of 20.

20… 40… 60… 80… 100…

200… 300… 400… 500…

1000…

Down, and down, and even further down he went, and with growing disbelief, he counted to 1200. That meant he had been descending for roughly an hour now. His gills and flippers showed no signs of disappearing, while the bottom of the seamount showed no signs of appearing.

'It's hard to estimate, but I've definitely gone two miles, maybe even three,' Harry muttered to himself. Further, he had been heading straight down this entire time. Just how deep was this thing?

Only 10 meters of the Swan's Seamount protruded out the seabed. As it turned out, it was the tip of a very large iceberg. The true body was far, far larger than anyone ever imagined.

Downwards…

Downwards…

With nothing else to do, he counted to 1200 again. Another hour had passed.

'Where's the bottom of this thing?' Harry wondered. He had been careful to stick to a corner within the sea vent, and never strayed far past it. The two walls were smooth and straight, and there was no chance the wall opened up into a larger area. It was just a vertical passageway, down to unknown depths.

'Well, this time it actually can't be much further. The bottom should be here soon.'

Downwards…

Downwards…

Another hour later, and he was no longer so sure.

'This is impossible! How can this thing stretch so far down? I've done 6, 7, maybe 8 miles! It's impossible!' he ranted, beyond the point of panic. By now, he was sure this wasn't another eruption. For one, it made no sense for the water to head downwards first. And for two, there wasn't this much time between consecutive eruptions. This must have been something else.

The third hour passed much like the second, sinking and monotonous. Nothing had changed.

In the depths of the gloomy sea vent, his confidence in seeing the bottom abruptly vanished.

His muscles were starting to ache and cramp now, and he gave up on treading water. Instead he lay on the surface of the water, head down, and when he needed to breathe, he dipped forward to stick his neck underwater. In this way, he was simply carried to the bottom of the sea vent, a hapless passenger descending into the orange-tinted darkness.

What if this was 15 miles deep? 20? 50? 100? It was impossible to say how deep this thing went.

'Well, no choice but to keep going,' he sighed. By now, Harry already resigned himself to whatever fate was waiting below. He was physically tired, but mentally, he was exhausted. This ordeal was psychological torture. He felt he was heading to a certain death, with no way to turn around.

All of a sudden, the gills on his neck and webbing between his fingers disappeared, and he raised his head above the water with a loud gasp. He breathed in the sweet air, enjoying the feeling of it flowing through his body.

Though the pills wore off, nothing about his situation fundamentally changed. The only difference was that he floated on his back now. Every once in a while, he turned around to check his progress towards the bottom. He gave up keeping count of the passing time, and just let himself be carried down.

With nothing else to do… his thoughts drifted to all that had happened in the past day.

The war between the Swan Sea Sect and the New Port Sect was so sudden and terribly brutal, the events so shocking and horrifying, but Harry just hadn't had a chance to properly reflect on it all. So much had happened, so much had happened to him specifically, that he felt he was caught in a whirlwind. But now that he was unoccupied, there was plenty of time to go over it all.

And once he did, the full brunt of emotions slammed into him all at once. He suddenly remembered all his friends were dead, no, nearly the entire Swan Sea Sect was dead, and the fate of even the Sect Master was unknown.

Everyone he had met in the past few months – whether friend or foe, disciple or Elder – they were most likely all dead.

Ironically, he was the one the New Port Sect wanted to kill the most, but somehow, he had survived. Though somehow, 'survived' didn't feel like the right word in this situation.

"What would you say to me if you saw me now, Exalted Cat?" he spoke upwards, into the empty sea vent. His thoughts strayed back to that mysterious feline, the being that he most desperately wanted to meet again. Harry knew the vexing and foul-mouthed cat was actually one of the strongest creatures in the whole empire, even if it didn't act like it. He also knew the Exalted Cat had a reason for sending him to the Swan Sea Sect, and that it knew someone high up in the sect, perhaps an Elder or even the Sect Master herself. The rewards in the Missions Hall were proof of that.

"You must think me really pathetic," he laughed hollowly. "You left me alone for just a few weeks, and look at the state I'm in. I almost died, almost died so many times, but survived by the skin of my teeth each time. Though this time, it's actually over for me."

"And while I was at the Swan Sea Sect, I angered so many people… whenever someone annoyed me, I struck without thinking… whenever I needed resources for the Nameless Technique, I acted without thinking… I offended the Ivory Fist Clan… I offended the Alchemists… I offended the New Port Sect… I caused the war between the two sects, I caused the Ivory Fist Clan to betray the Swan Sea Sect… I caused all my friends my d-die…"

"Huh?"

Something wet was dripping down his face, and he lifted his hands to wipe away the tears that had formed.

'Am I crying?'

He was crying.

How long had it been since he cried?

Once the first few tears escaped, the floodgates were opened.

"It's my fault the Swan Sea Sect was destroyed," he sobbed. "Shaun, you weren't supposed to die! And all those other disciples, even the Elders, maybe even the Sect Master… if not for me angering Macnair and the Ivory Fist Clan and the Alchemists, would it have turned out like that?"

In the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't entirely his fault. In the cultivation world, fighting broke out all the time. Battles were commonplace, conflict happened every day, and even wars and massacres were carried out regularly. The strong didn't need a reason to attack. That was doubly true for someone like Macnair.

Further, he knew the war was preplanned. Even before he angered Macnair and Theodore Nott, the gears of war were already in motion. In hindsight, all of Macnair's actions during the sect competition made perfect sense. His disciples weakened the disciples of the Swan Sea Sect, to make the massacre easier. And furthermore, during the competition, no one from the Ivory Fist Clan fought. None of them stepped up for the Swan Sea Sect, and none of the New Port Sect members fought them. That was the best proof the two groups were already colluding.

Besides, the decision to betray the Swan Sea Sect and fight for the New Port Sect must have been planned out for a long time. It absolutely wasn't a decision made in days, or even weeks. In other words, it must have been in the works before Harry even met Maynard. The Ivory Fist Clan definitely wouldn't have made an impulsive decision to attack a Tier 2 sect.

But to say his own actions made no difference wasn't true either. Perhaps the anger of seeing his son crippled sent the Ivory Fist Clan's Patriarch over the edge. Perhaps if he hadn't crippled Maynard, the Ivory Fist Clan wouldn't have targeted him and his friends.

It really did come down to his own actions.

"In the end, I offended too many people. In the end, I'm too weak," he sobbed.

"I'M TOO WEAK!" he howled into the empty shaft.

He made no difference in the war between sects. His strength advanced by leaps and bounds since he entered the Swan Sea Sect, but when it was destroyed, he was of no help at all. When it came to the top powers of the empire, he was still far, far off.

"So, this is the cultivation world."

"If you offend someone strong, you die. If you offend enough strong people, your friends and sect will too. To live in the cultivation world is to bow to the strong."

"But… I don't want to!" Harry yelled as he was overcome with a sudden surge of emotions.

"I don't want to live like that! To cultivate is to become strong! To cultivate is to defeat your enemies, to cultivate is to gain the strength to be free! If I have to bow, then what's the point of cultivating?"

"What's the point?" he yelled.

On the path to becoming strong, the road was filled with countless enemies. Cultivation was the key to defeating them – but to defeat them only invited more enemies, and even stronger ones.

Not for the first time, Harry felt like there was a hidden force at work, something out there causing him to encounter strong foe after strong foe. Once he defeated one, the next one showed up, and after he beat them all, their backers showed up to take revenge. From Maynard Hatton to Nelson to the Notts – either there was a pattern, or he had the worst luck in the world.

'It's unfair!' he wanted to scream and vent his frustrations. He was never the first to offend people, yet enemies appeared regardless. His entire life, it was always other people provoking him first. Further, his enemies all had backers, and were from established sects and clans with vast power. He, on the other hand, had nothing.

To become strong, one needed strength in the first place. That was why all the strongest people came from the established sects and clans, because those who weren't were killed before they could get strong. To reach the peak of strength on one's own was an impossible feat.

Only now did he fully understand the true nature of this world. There was no such thing as fairness, not even anything remotely resembling fairness. It was a brutal world, a heartless one, rigged from the start against the weak, a world where the strong got stronger and trampled the weak underfoot. If it was for the sake of getting strong, anything was justified.

As the Exalted Cat once said, there was no right or wrong, only power and strength.

No one was around to hear his anguish, and as he slowly sank to the unknown depths, Harry's sorrow echoed into the empty sea vent.