The Cerulean Tide surged even more violently.

Andrew leaped up and climbed onto a crumbling wall. The tide flowed right beneath his feet, and wherever it passed, countless wraiths surged through like an undead army.

Even someone with Andrew's nerves could not help breaking into a cold sweat. With this many spirits, even a martial god would have to retreat.

This cursed graveyard was truly treacherous.

The main problem was that these spirits could continuously draw energy from the tide to sustain themselves. It was like deploying an army that carried its own supply line. Wherever the tide reached, the battlefield followed, and it never worried about resources.

Andrew waited atop the wall, watching for the tide to recede. Suddenly, a soft white glow lit up in the darkness not far away.

At the same time, a cold, distant voice reached Andrew's ears.

"If you don't want to die, you'd better follow me. The place where you're standing will soon be swallowed by the tide, and there's nowhe