Chapter 113: Storm

Beneath the blackened clouds that drowned the entire sea, furious rain and waves relentlessly churned the swells; deep blue, nearly black, waves curled up white foam that slammed against the surface, only to be shattered moments later by even higher crests.

In this violent storm, a sailboat over twenty meters long advanced with an unnatural posture; its silver-white mast, incongruous with the rest of the vessel, bore a metallic-glossed sail fully swollen with gales, while a black flag embroidered with skulls and feathers snapped fiercely at the mast's peak.

"Captain, we're close enough!" the helmsman gripped the wheel tightly, tendons bulging on his tattooed neck, "This damn weather makes navigation impossible… Aren't you going to…?"

"Shut up." The captain, whose hat perched a jet-black bird, flashed a sharp glare, "The coward's intel was right—there's probably a deity on that island. Her divine power permeates this storm. If we use the relic now, we'll draw attention!"

As he spoke, the hull shuddered violently, the entire ship hurled eight or seven meters into the air by a colossal wave—yet the pirates remained steady, each gripping nearby ropes, no different from how they'd stood just seconds before.

"Boss, if there really is a deity, then we…"

A young sailor opened his mouth, but an old sailor instantly slapped him, then said:

"You greenhorn don't know shit! A tiny island with a thousand people? What powerful figure could there be? Probably just a sentient relic from the old civilization—low risk, high reward. Take it down, and we won't just get a batch of slaves, we'll get relics from the old era…"

"I said, shut up!"

The captain's voice was muffled by the downpour, yet every soul on the ship fell silent.

Raindrops the size of beans hammered the wooden deck; atop the silver mast, in a wooden basket mounted there, a youth with short, dense feathers growing over half his face suddenly shouted:

"Captain, I can see the island's outline!"

"Good!" The captain sprang to his feet—his hat's bird melted like a candle, black substance engulfing his head and chest.

Feathers erupted from his body, landing precisely on each combatant.

"Boys! Get ready!" A mechanical voice issued from the captain's black-feathered head; the old sailor who'd just beaten the rookie instantly activated the deck's mechanism, revealing a tank filled with octopuses. He reached in, grabbed one, and bit straight into its tentacle.

The octopus, in pain, spewed thick black mist—yet despite the torrential rain, the mist did not disperse; instead, as if guided, it clung precisely to every combatant.

"Storm Sailing!"

The utterly mechanical voice triggered something—suddenly, the silver sail and mast emitted an eerie glow.

In the next instant, the entire ship was wrapped in a cocoon of silver-white light; the previous heaving vanished, for now, the vessel no longer sailed through water—it sailed through wind, through rain!

The relic's power tore through the deity's barrier; the island, shaped like a pointed soft hat, came into view. Each combatant, wrapped in black mist, gripped ropes with one hand; the lookout who'd slid down the mast spun around and wheeled out from the corner a small catapult, older than the wooden sailboat itself, beginning to load ammunition.

"Ammunition's expensive—hit your mark!"

"Don't worry, Boss! If we waste any, just deduct it from my share!"

The lookout clearly had absolute confidence in his aim; he held a metal sphere utterly incongruous with the catapult's rustic look—his eyes, crawling with feathers, gleamed with raptor-like ferocity—

"Swoosh!"

With a soft sound, the youth triggered the catapult's mechanism. The small catapult, shorter than a grown man, should not have reached far—but now, the silver-gray metal sphere seemed lifted by some mysterious force, flying across kilometers to strike the island's edge.

A sudden gale erupted from the island—but at the exact same moment, the metal sphere exploded.

An imperceptible pulse rippled out instantly; even the furious storm fell silent.

Only on the pirate ship, riding the storm, did the captain let out an owl-like cackle; the sailors, already prepared, leapt into the water from kilometers away!

…

"Not bad—you've improved. At least it's less jarring now!" Meanwhile, Feng Xue, already asleep, reentered Mo Ying's painted world, watching the quiet girl standing before a wooden table, painting within the artwork. Feng Xue took two steps forward and smiled:

"What? Are you over it?"

"I'm not angry!" Mo Ying replied sharply, then lowered her voice: "I'm just… a little afraid of pain… yeah, I'm fine now!"

"Huh? So well-behaved?" Feng Xue was surprised by Mo Ying's shy demeanor; hearing his words, her ink-painted face suddenly flushed with faint red.

"Huh? Being this obedient?" Feng Xue looked at the awkwardly bashful Mo Ying, momentarily a little surprised. Hearing Feng Xue's words, Mo Ying's originally ink-wash-painted face suddenly flushed with faint streaks of pink.

"I, uh… my illusion technique is really strong now. Don't turn me into a False Deity, okay?"

"What kind of thinking is that?" Feng Xue was genuinely baffled—why would she suggest that? He had no reason to turn a proper Spirit Ghost into a False Deity!

If he needed a False Deity, why not just create a new one?

But now that he thought about it…

Feng Xue suddenly frowned—was that weather goddess actually a Spirit Ghost? But she had no ghostly aura!

Seeing Feng Xue stare blankly, Mo Ying grew anxious; she stomped her foot hard and said:

"I'll study harder! I won't be afraid of pain anymore! I even attended Li Qianbei's class! So don't turn me into a False Deity!"

"Alright, alright, no False Deity, no False Deity!" Feng Xue reached out and ruffled Mo Ying's smooth long hair—then his expression darkened suddenly—

"You little brat, you're asking for it!"

"You said—you said you wouldn't turn me into a False Deity!" Mo Ying's pitiful demeanor vanished instantly; she planted her hands on her hips, wearing an expression of smug triumph.

"You said… said you wouldn't let me become a Void God!" Mo Ying suddenly dropped the pitiful look from before, planted both hands on her hips, and struck an expression that screamed "boy, am I ever badass."

"I never said I'd turn you into a False Deity—I never said I wouldn't beat you! Bend over! Seriously—three days without a beating and you're ready to tear the roof off?"

"Waaahhhhh!" Only now did the dim-witted Mo Ying realize—even if she wasn't turned into a False Deity, Feng Xue still had plenty of ways to punish her. She'd been so focused on avoiding that, she'd forgotten everything else. Her demeanor shattered; she squealed and ran wildly through the painted world.

Feng Xue thought chasing the little brat around was fun; he immediately put on a villainous expression, chasing a virtuous maiden—but then he felt a sudden dizziness in his skull, and snapped his eyes wide open.

"What the hell? Can that little brat kick me out of the Illusion?"

Feng Xue stared at the lantern light inside the tent, his expression odd—but then Mo Ying's voice came from his ear:

"Why'd you come out? Weren't you supposed to catch… ah! No no, I didn't kick you out! You can't punish me for this!"

"I feel like you're kind of enjoying this," Feng Xue thought to himself—but without hesitation, he activated his Qi-Sight technique. The moment he did, his previously clear vision instantly turned pitch black!

(End of Chapter)