Chapter 230: The Whale's Call

The moment Green realized the light ahead existed, he understood why the descriptions he had received were so vague.

It could not be precisely described, yet the moment it was seen, it triggered countless scenes in memory that were both similar to and utterly different from it. It was as if, while passing through a long, saint-statue-bowed church corridor in a dream, a single streak of gray-white light shone through the exit at the end, diluted and spread thin across every surface.

A pale light, indistinguishable from anything, merged with the water mist. The sound of the waterfall falling, closer than ever before, drove the light mist to spread from the hall into the corridor.

The light source did not flicker; perhaps this was why it was thought to resemble a celestial body. Yet, in these underground strata that had never received even a single ray of light from the sky since their birth, what celestial body from where could shine upon this place?

During the rapid approach, that light did not vanish as it had the previous time, but maintained an unsettling stability, like an invitation awaiting the discoverer's arrival, or a pure indifference.

【At this moment?】

Green weighed whether to pursue the light source or first search for the two teams that had failed to return in time, but found no answer.

Footsteps moved forward, or were pushed forward by the increasingly turbulent water flow. Before bursting out of the tunnel exit, the cultivators drew their weapons, preparing to confront threats that might exist in any direction.

The metallic ringing of unsheathed blades did not travel far; amidst the vast water vapor, the sound each person made was confined around them, or scattered by the thunderous roar of the falling waterfall, immersing everyone in an atmosphere of indifferent isolation like that light.

They soon found there was no need to think about how to catch the light source.

That light, and the source of that water mist, were right before them, placed brazenly in the most conspicuous spot for a full week.

At the end of the steps, which curve in layers toward the center of the hall, a hexagon emitting a dim glow appeared.

Jingkou, the mouth of that hexagonal deep well, was spewing massive amounts of mist stirred up by the waterfall; pale light crawled out from within, clinging to every surface it could adhere to with the water mist, dyeing the hall an unreal color, or rather, a colorless one.

Although what was seen exceeded cognition, instinct still tried to persuade logic, making one believe it was the light of a celestial body.

This produced a disorienting sense of vertical displacement that confused the vestibular apparatus, as if a dead moon were passing on the other side of the great well at this very moment, and those water mists soaked in dim light were the painful seepage dripping from its weeping sores.

Breathing the moisture-saturated air, they felt their vocal organs choked, unable to utter a word.

The first emotion to arise was the one most easily generated when facing something that overturned understanding: a silent, spreading panic that nailed their feet to the spot, nailed them in the cold, turbid current.

By the time consciousness reacted that the most reasonable choice now should be to retreat, they had already been standing in the frosted-glass-like mist for a while.

No one knew how long that was; it might have been just a momentary daze, or perhaps a whole hour had passed.

But when they came to their senses, the first thing they felt was the wet cold on their collars; the chill drilled into the interior through the imperfect seams where the boot shafts met, licking their ankles.

It seemed that light naturally possessed a power to bewitch the mind, to make one forget time, exceeding the limits of the word "charm."

Probably due to discipline etched into conditioned reflexes, plus faith supporting their precarious spirits, the cultivators did not continue moving forward, nor did they retreat; instead, they looked toward the leader at the very front of the formation.

【What should we do?】

Without turning around to meet those gazes, Green knew what they wanted to ask, but he had no answer.

The current situation had already exceeded the scope of any plan; Kraft's advice was equally useless here. Perhaps they would dare to strike a horned devil with a blade in despair, but they might not be able to overcome venturing deep into the dark, faded unknown.

After all, no one knew what that was; it was something that could not be described in words, and certainly could not be something recorded in the holy scriptures.

A voice in his ear told him that now he should go back; the tunnel entrance was right behind him.

Take a few steps back, run back, and they could leave immediately, escaping like rats back into the reassuring darkness.

He thought it was a hallucination, then felt it was a suggestion from some cultivator behind him. Just as he was about to open his mouth to scold angrily, he realized that was his own voice, an echo from the subconscious.

As long as he walked back, he could continue to enjoy the transcendent status of the Inquisition's youngest priest.

Climbing from the son of a cobbler to this point had been too difficult; there was no need to bury a life of bright prospects meaninglessly here.

Setting aside personal gain, cutting losses immediately and bringing the people back was also the best choice; others could testify for him.

"Ha..." Green exhaled a breath. The water mist before his face receded slightly, then surged back toward his mouth and nose. "Everyone, go back."

The cultivators, relieved, pulled their boots out of the water.

They took a few steps back toward the water channel exit, then stopped one by one, looking at the priest who still stood motionless in place.

"Brother Wading will take over my affairs from now on. Send someone back to notify the Inquisition, and also... that professor." Pulling out a torch, he ignited it on the lamp flame that was about to be extinguished by the rising water mist. Green wiped the condensation from his face. "I will go look for those two teams."

"I hope the Heavenly Father has not summoned me for my report quite so early."

Along the edge of the hall, he moved in the direction of exploration, walking into the depths of the water mist.

Two cultivators did not leave with the formation. After hesitating left and right in place for a while, they gritted their teeth and chased after Green, following silently behind him.

With the number of people reduced, that atmosphere of indifference and mutual isolation grew even heavier. Though they were merely two body-lengths apart, if one did not constantly pay attention to others' positions, the terrible loneliness of being trapped alone in a corner of the dim realm would arise at any moment.

For the two cultivators who had impulsively followed, this was a breeding ground for fear and wavering.

But for one whose intuition was sharp enough to support swinging a sword when unable to see, the visual dimness and dullness would not make him dull.

Even without using sight, he could perceive many things. The thunderous sound of water filling the space was indeed much closer than during the first arrival.

This explained much; for instance, beneath the hexagonal great well was not an endless void, but a large yet finite body of water. One could imagine it gradually filling up, the water level rising, approaching the well mouth.

Moreover, the sound was still changing. The mighty roar of the massive body of water falling toward the water surface and rushing straight into the depths became shallower, as if reefs had appeared beneath the water surface, shattering the dark currents.

That "reef" was still rising, until it floated above the water surface. As if a deep lake had suddenly dried up, the waterfall hammered against the hard, uneven lakebed, shattering and splashing, creating more water mist, rising in a gradually intensifying eruptive airflow, surging into the hall.

When the turbulent, high-speed airflow reached its peak, everyone heard a long, low, foul sound like a whale's call, filled with a grief that made one's eyes tear apart.

The cultivator following closely behind Green saw the former, as if inspired by something, discard the torch and dive toward them, pushing both of them aside.

Several newly formed gorges with sharp edges radiated outward from the hexagonal deep well, carving into the stone steps. The rock within the wedge-shaped cross-section vanished as if it had fallen into another world.