Chapter 169: Caribbean Li Jiatu

After entering the pitch-black sea without safe shipping lanes, violent winds and torrential rain tossed the ship up and down, sideways, as if heralding the end of the world.

The mysterious Queen's Dawn Ship glowed with lights, like a firefly that might extinguish at any moment in this sea.

Bernadette watched calmly, waited patiently, and interfered little with the ship's condition; before her stood a steady wooden table, upon which rested several porcelain pieces of wildly different styles, emerald-green tea pouring from a small brown teapot—according to this Earth God, this was the traditional style of the Western Continent.

Even now, she felt it was unreal, for the changes had come too suddenly.

"Big niece, speed up, don't be afraid," Su Lin said, pinching his thumb and index finger together, occasionally flicking out dazzling white light from his fingertips beyond the cabin.

Normally, excessive interference with a ship's navigation in this region was forbidden; the Black Emperor had decreed that this area must abide by the order he established, and those who violated it would suffer punishment by the rules.

The streaks of white light Su Lin shot out were in fact another form of order power, restoring chaos to order, like flares in the night, briefly restoring normal order to this region.

Bernadette fell silent at the term "big niece," then subtly shifted the topic:

"My father is a native of Intis; he has his own parents. I don't understand why he would be connected to the Western Continent."

"There are deep reasons behind it. Though I could ramble nonsense to fool you, there's no need." Su Lin pulled out some pastries from a historical projection—Roussel, hailed by the people as the Master of Pastry, had left few escape routes for his fellow countrymen.

Bernadette felt this man's humanity was overly abundant—perhaps performance, perhaps truth—she couldn't tell. She spoke softly, her tone utterly flat: "Could you not teach me those writings?"

He had read aloud some entries from her diary; though he deliberately omitted parts, there was no doubt the text contained fragments of her father's past experiences.

"Some things are adult matters. Children shouldn't ask too much or interfere," Su Lin said with a faint smile. "Knowing too much isn't good for you."

If I taught you Chinese, your father Roussel would come after me with a vengeance.

Four-tenths of the diary's information was useful, two-tenths were Roussel the Emperor's domestic trivialities, and three-tenths could be condensed and edited into a book titled *The Romantic Chronicles of Roussel*.

Bernadette nodded, said no more, and increased the ship's speed, silently awaiting their destination.

Meanwhile, in the empty cabin, sounds of piano, violin, cello, and flute intertwined into a lively, joyful melody.

Music drifted through the cabin; the stove burst into flame, the kitchen knife floated in midair, slicing steak and raw fish; potatoes, mushrooms, and peas lined up in sequence, waiting their turn, then leapt upward, spinning like dancers into the oven and onto the frying pan.

Pots, pans, bowls, and ladles organized themselves automatically; the kitchen seemed filled with over a dozen workers bustling about.

Su Lin glanced enviously at this ability—the power to materialize concepts from real fairy tales or myths. If he had this power, he wouldn't even need to reach into historical projections.

Under Bernadette's hospitality,

three hours later,

Bernadette halted at the bow, gazing long at the silhouette of the island ahead—her father Roussel's resting place. As the Dawn Ship drew closer, the island's features grew clearer: towering, deep-green nearly black trees rose high, covering the ground and obscuring the peaks.

Silhouettes of curly-haired baboons flickered in and out of the underbrush.

As a Sequence 3 "Master of Prophecy," her spiritual intuition told her this was very likely the place she sought; on this matter, They had not deceived me.

As the coastline came into view, Bernadette pressed her lips together and murmured:

"Father."

Su Lin and Zhongli appeared behind her, gazing into the distance. Zhongli frowned slightly; the island's aura filled him with an indescribable revulsion—a sense of chaos, mixed with something else.

Klein's spirit returned to the Mist, participating in this meeting in another way.

The three spoke in unison: "The Fool not of this age, the Mysterious Sovereign above the Mist, the Yellow-Black King who holds Fortune."

——————————

In the dimly lit wooden cabin, the smells of alcohol and tobacco mingled; a high-concentration agave liquor was the specialty of this port, its distillery located locally, requiring no transport—just dragged straight to the dock for sale. For just one Suler, you could buy a liter of this liquor, which elsewhere cost at least three Sulers.

The dockworkers, dressed in simple short-sleeved shirts, told crude jokes, chatting about the town's good service, holding skewers of grilled meat and gulping down beer. Occasionally, well-dressed outsiders would order a glass of agave liquor—they were the main consumers of this drink.

This was Enmat Port, one of the two most important harbors of the Ruin Kingdom, alongside Priz Port.

Ships passing through typically resupplied here; security was maintained daily by the Storm Church. Pirates, merchants, sailors, fishing boats, and nearby residents—all manner of people—converged in this bustling port.

The closest to the harbor was a tavern named "Rodia."

The wooden door creaked open, and the wind chime above tinkled.

A young man pushed through the door, wearing leather clothing and messy hair; upon entering, he swiftly scanned the surroundings.

"Give me a shot of agave, mixed with some ginger water. Baby, don't be stingy," said the young adventurer, dressed in rugged gear, walking up to the counter and tossing down a gold pound.

The burly, bearded owner stared at the gold pound on the counter, glared coldly at the young adventurer, and growled: "Anything else?"

"Smoked fish and dried meat. There are countless towns, countless taverns—but yours is the only one with truly distinctive smoked fish," said the young adventurer, legs crossed, lounging comfortably on the bench, murmuring flowery words.

"Good heavens," said a bald, dark-skinned man beside him, rubbing his temples. "Hey, young master, no seafarer who's spent long years on the ocean orders pickled goods and dried meat in a tavern!"

"As an adventurer, you should order fruit and fresh meat—this place is famous for its grilled meat!"

"Uh." The young adventurer's relaxed expression froze on his face. He unconsciously clenched his palm, then chuckled awkwardly. "Fine, do as he says."

"Grilled meat skewers and a fruit platter."

"One Suler and a penny," said the owner, opening a drawer to count change, adding with a hint of warning: "If you want to experience sailing, I suggest the travel agency beside the Storm Church—you can be an adventurer for seven days for just one pound."

"And you won't have to worry about being targeted by certain types," added the bald, dark-skinned man.

At the back of the tavern, several eyes swept over the young man, filled with eagerness and greed.

The youth, still bearing traces of youthfulness, pocketed his change without fear, smiled at those watching, and turned to the bald man: "When it comes to going to sea, I'm serious."

"I want to go to Bansi Island. Do you have any ship recommendations?"

"Bansi Island?" The bald man's expression turned strange. "Since the incident at Bansi Port, hardly anyone goes there anymore."

"If the price is right, we could drop you off at the nearby Dimir Island."

"Provided you're not afraid we'll sell you."

The bald man narrowed his eyes and glanced toward the corner behind him.

"No problem. Is this enough?" The youth pushed the pile of change the owner had given him toward the bald man.

"You've got enough," said the bald man, surprised the city boy wasn't afraid—but since there was money to be made, he could just drop him off at Dimir Port. "I'm Berlan Les. We're a legitimate crew."

"I'm Caribbean Li Jiatu," said the youth, raising his cup to Berlan Les. "You can also call me Somalia Lu."

End of Chapter