Chapter 172: Attempt

The sky gradually shifted from deep darkness to azure, and after the ship sailed past the boundary and out of the Black Emperor's influence, looking back, the region they had just traversed was now a clear, cloudless expanse.

That small island and the surrounding dozens of nautical miles had been isolated into a separate space.

"What's special about the Key of Light?" Kleine held a porcelain plate with a teacup bearing ear handles; the Xibe red tea inside glowed bright orange, emitting a faint, delicate fragrance.

He walked near Su Lin and said slowly: "Or are you interested in this Primordial Substance?"

Su Lin sat cross-legged on the railing, holding a glowing fishing rod; the sea breeze brushed his face, carrying a salty, fishy scent, while he chewed on a dried squid, eyes fixed on the ocean.

"I was a bit curious, so I secretly hacked into the network with AI and checked the author's draft for your book," Su Lin pulled apart a strand of dried squid, recalling: "The second book is called The Cycle of Fate; the Key of Light is a Primordial Substance tied to the Path of Fate, representing infinite chaos, the embodiment of destiny."

"It felt like the Path of Fate, but his overall outline wasn't finished back then—I didn't know what came later—so I wanted to see if there was any useful info from Rosser."

"But he didn't know much either; it's sealed away in the Western Continent, and no one knows the details."

Kleine sipped the black tea; the blue fragrance spread in his mouth, and he recalled that Will Ansetin had once said the Sequence 0 of the Path of Fate is called 'Wheel of Fate.'

I hope this Fate Serpent who likes ice cream doesn't get stabbed.

"Among all Paths, the Path of Fate is unique—no similar Paths exist; it's a road walked straight to the end," Kleine analyzed based on his known information: "This uniqueness may conceal some hidden secret."

"If you get the chance, go to the Western Continent after I fall asleep."

"There's another way," Su Lin turned his head to glance sideways at Kleine: "When I go back, I'll lock the author in a dark room, apply a stack of buffs so he doesn't need food, drink, or rest, boost his physical condition and mental capacity, and make him finish The Wheel of Fate directly."

"Brilliant—no, I mean, you're violating labor laws," Kleine coughed twice and dropped the topic.

"Daryk brought you a potion," Kleine set down the porcelain cup and pulled a glass bottle from his coat; inside was the potion of the Sun Path's Sequence 9: 'Singer.'

Su Lin took it, examined it—the potion was nearly transparent, with only a faint glow.

A 'profession' that grants courage and strength, piety and obedience to oneself and companions through song; their slogan is: Let us praise the Sun!

In simple terms, it's the fantasy equivalent of a novice priest.

"Perfect—the squid tentacles are too salty."

Su Lin raised the potion toward the white sun in the azure sky: "If this works, I am the Sun."

This was Zhong Li's idea: using a flesh-and-blood-aware external avatar to contain the potion, attempting to control this world's supernatural forces.

After Su Lin's historical projection fused with the divine core, though still removable at will, it had acquired the attribute of 'reality,' transforming from a projection into a flesh-and-blood avatar.

If this method works, my avatar's power will rise again; if not, since I can always create new avatars, I can repeatedly use potions from different Paths.

No need to hang myself on the Sun Path—a monocle looks fine too.

Su Lin retrieved a plastic straw from history, pried off the wooden cap, and inserted the straw.

He frowned; an indescribable taste spread across his tongue—not unpleasant, but like unfrozen kvass with a hint of mint.

With a faint mental shock, Su Lin completed the absorption of the potion.

"Praise the Sun!" Su Lin stood, legs together, body straight, arms extended symmetrically toward the upper diagonal shoulders, fingers clenched into palms facing outward, fingertips pointing toward the sky.

Clang—

Kleine pulled a round iron barrel from history and slammed it over Su Lin's head, then turned and walked toward the cabin.

"Your fishing rod fell into the sea."

As Kleine closed the cabin door, he heard a splash outside.

"What happened out there?" Zhong Li held a kitchen knife; the stew pot in the kitchen steamed, its aroma wafting through the vent hole; he looked at Kleine entering, expression puzzled.

Kleine sniffed—the rich beef scent carried a hint of dairy, mingled with basil, bay leaf, and other spices.

The seafood made him uneasy, so Zhong Li decided to cook something he liked himself—like a pot of braised beef.

"The Sun has gone out."

————————————

"When I was chatting with a group of dragon-blooded beings at twenty thousand meters beneath the sea, a towering Gao Ta appeared ahead, its golden-red seabed lava like a fire serpent."

Lu Mingfei raised a wooden cup, seated on the 'Mans' cargo ship under the Hall Corporation, recounting past glories to the sailors: "It was an incredible battle; finally, I collapsed from exhaustion and was rescued by a passing red-haired elf."

"She was so beautiful."

Berlan Lers walked over with a glass of pale beer still foaming, smiling as he countered: "I suggest you read Rosser the Emperor's Selected Rosser Fairy Tales first."

"Even my three-year-old daughter knows elves have black hair."

"The King of Bluster, Mr. Caribbean."

Hahaha—

Amid laughter, a sailor tossed an orange to Lu Mingfei: "This story's good—just tweak it a bit and it could run serially in the Ruin Daily."

"I swear, Mr. Somalia, this earns more than your adventures at sea."

Inside the cabin, lights bright, on this ordinary, dull, uneventful night, Captain Berlan Lers had brought aboard a naive new adventurer.

This adventurer, whose 'stage name' was odd, added a touch of amusement to the night crew who only had weak beer and dried squid.

His bizarre tales were fresher to these seafarers, who passed time with expired newspapers and magazines, than dockside oranges.

"You might consider Doug's advice," Berlan Lers smiled gently; unlike his rugged appearance, this bald, dark-skinned giant was actually a kind man: "Your work could have a good market."

"Those noble youths hold literary salons every week, inviting famous writers—maybe you could enter high society?"

Berlan Lers' tone carried a touch of longing; the Hall Corporation paid them well—among the best in the industry—but the pay clearly matched the effort.

"Without sufficient strength, you can't sustain adventures on this sea—you must always watch out for pirates."

"Besides, the strange events on this sea aren't any simpler than your stories."

"Listen to me, Li Jiatu—after reaching Dimir, enjoy a few days, then buy a ticket home; with your literary skill, you'll surely achieve something."

Lu Mingfei didn't ignore the captain's advice—he knew it came from goodwill, and immediately replied: "I'll publish a book called The Dragon Clan, and pick a pen name."

"What do you think of the pen name 'Jiang Nan'?"

"Good," Berlan sighed in relief that Lu Mingfei wasn't clinging to unrealistic adventurer dreams; who cared if the pen name was Jiang Nan or Jiang Bei?

Money was money, but he still worried this young man might, like Gellman Sparrow's fans, impulsively set sail onto the sea.

Earning money is one thing, but he still worried that this young man, like those admirers of Gehrman Sparrow, would set sail for the seas in a fit of passion.

It's not fair to blame these young people, after all, the story of Germaine Sparrow has spawned hundreds of different versions circulating across the seas and even within the kingdom.

For example, "The Mad Adventurer and the Ice Mountain Vice Admiral's Secret Bedroom Affairs." Cough, cough—those tales certainly stir up youthful fervor and longing.

I wonder if that author was caught by Flame Danijs? By the Lord of Storms, I hope he hasn't been sunk to the ocean floor yet—the sequel hasn't come out.

Amid the lively atmosphere, the crew began discussing their own past adventures and the local customs of ports around the world.

Gossip, food, wine, women—these topics, like smoked fish and dried meat, were their fixed accompaniments to alcohol.

About an hour later, the drunken Berlan staggered onto the deck for fresh air; the ship's control room glowed with light, and with the helmsman and first mate on duty, there was no cause for concern.

Shhh—

A sharp whistling sound pierced the air; Berlan's heart tightened, and he rolled sideways, dodging a streak of silver.

He corrected his posture, his drunkenness vanished, every muscle tensed, crouching on the deck like a sprinter ready to launch, his eyes sharp as an eagle's, fixed on the position above and behind him.

"Mr. Li Jiatu, what do you mean by this?"

The young man before him had clearly just been inside the cabin, yet now he stood atop the railing, looking down at him with superiority.

Berlan swiftly scanned the spot where the silver streak had been—only the hilt of a dinner knife remained embedded in the deck.

"I didn't see through you either," Berlan stared up at the young man, wary: "What is your purpose?"

As Berlan questioned Caribbean Li Jiatu, he stirred his inner emotions, gradually entering a state of rage; as a wild transcendentalist unaffiliated with the Storm Church, he had once experienced a strange fortune and obtained the Elixir of "Sequence 8: The Furious Folk."

"Hehe, Mr. Berlan, forgive my rudeness."

The voice came from behind him?!

Berlan turned—and saw the young adventurer resting a hand on his shoulder; when he looked up, the figure above had vanished.

Although the elixir's name was "The Furious Folk," it didn't mean Berlan lost rational judgment when enraged; if the man had wanted to kill him, he could have struck just now.

Unlike his harmless demeanor inside the cabin, Berlan now sensed that the young man's every word and gesture radiated the attitude of a superior.

—Seemingly familiar, yet profoundly distant; his unmasked casualness revealed complete disregard for Berlan's abilities.

"What do you want?" Berlan asked coldly.

"I merely wish to ask you a few questions. Don't worry—I mean you no harm," Caribbean Li Jiatu kept his hand on Berlan's shoulder, as if they were close friends. "Just tell me some common knowledge among transcendentalists."

"If I know," Berlan responded cooperatively.

"Hmm, first question," Caribbean Li Jiatu's voice dropped to a whisper: "Have you heard of the Assassin Path?"

After slowly circling the cargo ship, they returned to the cabin entrance, where the adventurer named Li Jiatu politely pulled open the door and gestured for him to enter.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Berlan."

He gave the adventurer a long look, then stepped inside the cabin first.

"How's this?" Lu Mingfei hunched on his stool, listening to the crewman's terrifying tale of Bansi Island with fear and dread, yet hoping he'd keep going.

Berlan's eyes widened—the Li Jiatu who had opened the iron door pressed a finger to his lips and smiled, signaling silence.

Amid the roar of waves and the crew's boisterous chatter, Li Jiatu's figure turned transparent and vanished.

Only when another crewman urged Berlan to close the door did he snap back to reality, his eyes still filled with terror.

He had heard many legends of this sea, but he had never encountered anything like this—sweat soaked his shirt; he hurried into the dining hall, scrambled to a seat in the center of the crowd, and downed a gulp of weak beer.

Berlan fell silent—then suddenly felt a massive surge of power within him; had the Elixir of "The Furious Folk" been fully digested?!

"This?!"

He looked up at the young man inside the cabin, a flicker of fear rising—but then he thought: perhaps that thing… wasn't Li Jiatu.

【How's it going? Did you find out?】 Lu Mingfei asked Old Lu inwardly; though the Bansi Island tale was terrifying, how could a cultivator who wielded thunder magic be frightened?

【Yes, I've got the answers.】

【What's going on with my Path? Is it dangerous?】 Lu Mingfei felt an odd unease he couldn't place; when he later asked the Tarot Society's Magician about the name of Sequence 7, the man always changed the subject.

【No problem. Sequence 7 of this Path is called Magician—it grants control over a special kind of magic. Also, once you reach Sequence 7, your appearance will greatly improve.】

【Really?!】

Just then, the man reached the part about Bansi's telegraph office; Lu Mingfei shuddered, making the storyteller proud—his hearsay tale had actually frightened someone.

【Of course it's true. Would I lie to myself?】

Old Zhou! My brother!

End of Chapter