The barrel of the Roaring Flintlock suddenly bulged, looking almost like something out of a cartoon. It swelled larger and larger, the expanding shell rolling inside the bloated barrel.

The entire process was as fast as a normal shot, but thanks to the Third Eye, Yang Yi saw it all with perfect clarity.

Boom!

Inside the tunnel, both the Salt People and the sea salt on the ground were shattered and scattered by a powerful shockwave.

The flintlock’s barrel blew open like a blooming flower, and a cannonball shot out, still expanding as it flew. By the time it reached a full metre wide, it slammed into the flesh wall, tearing open a massive, gory.

Yang Yi’s consciousness briefly went blank. The sheer force of the shockwave and noise knocked him out for a second.

When he came to, he found himself flying backwards, landing hard in the salt-covered ground.

Before he could react, a powerful suction force pulled the sea salt, Yang Yi, and the armor into the tunnel and ejected them through the hole blasted open by the Roaring Flintlock.

Regaining control mid-air, Yang Yi dug the heavy Ironbreaker into the wall and stabilized himself, avoiding being flung away like the sea salt.

He hung from the edge of the hole, sword embedded in the fleshy wall to maintain his grip. But his condition wasn’t good, his skin was wrinkled and dry, showing signs of severe dehydration. He had lost about thirty pounds, and his vitality had dropped by over thirty points.

Had he remained in contact with the salt any longer, the consequences would’ve been far worse.

Instead of hydrating right away, Yang Yi was stunned by what he saw.

The walls of this spherical chamber were in a constant state of drying and rehydrating, a delicate and dynamic balance.

The balance was maintained by the decaying whale inhaling sweet, fragrant air, which kept feeding it vitality.

Yang Yi had entered through the exhaust tunnel, which was wide and open. But the inhalation ducts were far smaller, densely packed throughout the chamber.

On the whale’s surface, there were countless cracks that looked like parched earth, but inside those fissures were tiny ducts, each a few centimeters wide, constantly drawing in the fragrant air like a sponge.

Simultaneously, the whale was also extracting moisture from the ocean, helping it stave off total desiccation and death.

So, the surrounding supersaturated saltwater wasn’t just incidental, it was a byproduct of the whale’s own water absorption process.

If it weren't for that fragrant air maintaining equilibrium, the whale would be expending all its energy just to survive, unable to purge its salt stores or regain vitality.

At the centre of the chamber, large masses of flesh hung down, suspending a plump, white-pink, luscious sphere of meat. 

The side facing Yang Yi glistened like pearl, smooth and delicate, as if a squeeze could make it burst with juice. But the far side clearly showed something was wrong. As one approached that part, the flesh darkened and wrinkled, indicating something abnormal.

Even more troubling, salt was continuously being secreted from the bottom of the meat sphere, dropping endlessly like grains through an hourglass, slowly filling the chamber.

The closer to the far side, the more salt fell.

Before long, nearly half the chamber was coated in salt, and countless Salt People below were relentlessly attacking the chamber walls.

Yang Yi knew what was coming.

He immediately moved position, away from the exhaust port. Curling his body, he drove his wolf claws into the wall, gripping tightly. He also grabbed the Ironbreaker, now buried up to the hilt, and raised his Crystal Greatshield to protect himself.

A moment later, the internal pressure surged, pinning Yang Yi against the wall, the whale's breathing chamber was contracting.

The inhalation ducts closed, and the exhaust port opened, unleashing a storm of wind that swept away massive amounts of sea salt from the chamber.

The entire process lasted only a few seconds, then the whale would begin inhaling again.

Thanks to his preparations, Yang Yi was not blown away.

He quickly pulled out a flask of freshwater, downing it in under five seconds, yet it didn’t quench his thirst.  He drank five full flasks before stopping, then turned his attention upward, climbing towards the chamber’s ceiling.

His goal was climbing onto that white meat sphere using the hanging flesh tendrils.

If he was right, the sphere was the core of the decaying whale, resembling a ripened fruit.

As he climbed, he had to time his movements precisely, advancing only during the whale’s inhalation phase. If he mistimed it and got caught during exhalation, he could be blown down into the growing salt pile below.

The breathing chamber was likely the heart of the whale, and Yang Yi, inside it, felt like a tiny insect.

As for the armour, Yang Yi didn’t bother with it. When he entered the gas chamber, it had fallen down along with the sea salt into the salt pile below, and it definitely got buried.

Yang Yi had no intention of diverting his attention to controlling it; after all, its mission was already complete. He just needed to remember to retrieve it.

After about forty minutes, Yang Yi finally climbed to the top of the gas chamber and began climbing down along the hanging flesh.

The flesh resembled stalactites gradually tapering down in a cave, with an uneven surface.

But just by climbing on it, he could feel the vigorous life force pulsating inside.

It seemed that a large amount of liquid was being transported, continuously flowing into the white flesh spheres below, preventing them from withering.

At that point, Yang Yi finally saw the other side. Like fruit left out for too long, partially dehydrated, and wrinkled, its colour darkening, even turning black, at the centre of which was a giant whose body was buried inside the flesh sphere, with only his head and neck exposed.

If he were seven or eight heads tall, or the legendary nine heads tall, the giant’s height would be close to ten metres.

But the giant’s skull was dark brown, completely dried out, with grooves and wrinkles all over his face, as if it had been air-dried hanging from a mast for years.

Yet his expression was fierce.

Though frozen in time, it was clear the giant was furious, his face twisted, and the eyeballs in his sockets had long since shrivelled and sunken in.

In front of the giant was another person.

His left arm was cut off at the shoulder, the severed surface fairly smooth, clearly cut.

His body was also completely dried out; his clothes had long since disappeared. Like a dried-out mummy, his limbs were thin, skin clinging to bones.

A white short spear, seemingly made of salt, pierced through this person’s chest.

Without a doubt, the spear was the Salt Wedge Yang Yi was looking for.

It was unknown how this person had maintained the pierced state to arrive here, having stabbed his own right hand into the giant’s neck.

Yang Yi understood the giant’s expression.

Its meaning was probably, “How the hell are you not dead, and still came here?!”

There must have been a mutiny on that ship, with only one person left who came to the Fruit of Bounty, somehow burying his body inside.

Then, someone who should have been dead chased after him like a demon, wanting to take them both down together...

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