Chapter 1220: line with translation of chapter title

No. 124: Aomo: No, your filter is too thick, right?

It contains 'Aomo'. Also, perhaps 'NO. 124:' is just a chapter number, not a name.

Anyone who has been a friend of a god knows that tracing the history of any myth inevitably runs into an abstraction, since these mythic histories are written by humans.

No named entities.

Whether or not gods care about how humans define them, myths will evolve in transmission, differing only by misunderstanding or human influence.

No.

A certain god's taboo name is spread in a distorted, stigmatized way.

No.

A certain god's deeds are cut and pasted into another god's achievements.

No.

A certain god's existence is fragmented and absorbed into other gods' pantheons.

No.

So-called religious wars and cultural assimilations are exactly the process of myth distortion.

No.

Tracing this is precisely the work of religious scholars.

No.

Historians and folklorists also, to some extent, delve into this, after all, in this world myth is also history and a part of culture.

No.

Although all of this may be unfamiliar to a traveler, the ways of acquiring knowledge and gathering information are largely the same in any world.

No.

Researchers who violate academic ethics, mercenaries who break contracts with employers, spies with no allegiance… The past Huo'erhaiya, in pursuit of the Feathered Serpent's form, had no taboos, sparing no effort to trace history, mythology, and everything in literature.

This is not only her own pursuit, but also the long-held wish of her entire clan.

And this long-held wish has a symbolic object: a spell.

Or rather——

——a cruel surgery performed by means of a spell, violating human ethics.

Infusing a large amount of information into an infant's brain is like a mental brand in meaning, forging an obsession.

From the moment of consciousness, this obsession lingers in your brain, making the first word you utter after birth not 'dad' or 'mom', but:

"Feathered Serpent."

Afterward, in your childhood, all the education you receive, and the knowledge in your mind that peers your age lack, will all point to the same pursuit:

"Become the Feathered Serpent."

This can truly be called a curse.

And such a curse, besides overwriting consciousness, has even sharper, crueler side effects.

——It not only damages the brain, but also shatters the personality that arises after consciousness.

Permanent changes in brain structure, and lifespan is directly halved.

Furthermore, because the success rate of the surgery is not 100%, it is foreseeable that many of Huo'erhaiya's clanspeople sacrificed before the results were born.

After all, this surgery was directly created hundreds of years before her birth.

In her account, at that time, on the land named Terra, even systematic medicine had not yet been born.

That is to say, in the era when medicine was not yet systematized, someone created this cruel 'Crowning' spell, and Aomo could not help but marvel, marveling at the madness of this woman's ancestors.

The result that cannot be obtained in a lifetime is passed down to descendants, letting them inherit that pain, unwillingness, anger, and pursuit.

In the most twisted way.

This inevitably reminds Aomo of the otherworldly cultures represented by Chaldea and the Clock Tower.

Among the so-called mainstream mage group there, there also seem to be similar madmen who, using methods that extend to descendants, impose a compulsory mission.

Before such madness, Huo'erhaiya's aggressiveness appears harmless, even gaining a touch of pitiable victimhood.

Indeed, victims are indeed victims.

Resisting persecution in infancy is impossible; only a future full of possibility offers a chance to make up for childhood wounds.

But if we were to regard them as a vulnerable group because of this……

Glancing at the other's swaying black snake tail behind them, thick and long like a python, and at first glance their eyes were seductive like silk, but up close cold and sharp, Aomo raised the cup in hand and took a light sip.

Alcohol does him no good; even if it's a special blend with an exotic otherworldly flavor, he merely moistens his throat.

Besides that, it's also because they are in a bar.

It is now the afternoon of the second day.

Qian and Suzi, these two restless sorts, were as active last night as they are now dead asleep; and Bopang, who ought to be sufficiently disciplined, unexpectedly did not start his daily training.

They didn't even wake up!

As for Texas, who also has a certain degree of self-discipline and does some basic physical training after waking, when Aomo left the hotel, Aomo still saw her sleeping beside Qian, unable to wake at all.

Don't ask; if you ask, it's because Miss Qian is too much of a cannon fodder, and the main force that bears pressure in team battles is forever Qielinina.

Ask again, and it's because some interactions in the taxi returning from the demon realm area last night added a layer of berserk to the Boss when facing Qielinina.

Still ask!

Still ask, it's because Xin Tiao Qian also did it!

The yukata and swimwear she had specially prepared for this trip, before the formal segment even began, already gave a good delay to the berserk buff when she tried them on in the bedroom.

So this round, the two sisters are sabotaging each other, each raising the dungeon's difficulty.

The result was that, at the time they should have woken up the next day, nobody woke up—not even Bopang, who least ought to sleep in, seemingly having suffered the 'elementary school spring outing syndrome' from last night.

Nervous, excited to the point of insomnia…… According to the other's tired reply after a seven‑second delay in answering the phone, and the background sound of Suzi's resentful demand for quiet, Aomo inevitably, in a helpless laugh, told her to hang up and rest quickly.

Clearly it was a group trip, yet the result was still having to forage alone—but that's fine; Aomo Lindun has always been someone who can enjoy solitude, and going alone is not only not a bad thing, but rather a good condition for more focused observation.

But before he could wander much in this not‑so‑familiar city, the terminal screen suddenly lit up, displaying an ID that reminded him of an exception.

They had already agreed to meet, only the exact time was yet to be set—why the rush?

Looking at the other's urgent yet extremely reluctant, relatively restrained words, Aomo did indeed feel a stir of curiosity.

Curious about that obsession obviously tied to Terra's past history, in other words, an obsession linked to otherworldly secrets.

However, the meeting place the other sent, after he looked it up, turned out to be a bar……

Although as a talk venue it's not a problem, he still couldn't help feeling relieved that he had already settled his lunch.

One can't count on the food in a bar.

But even so, when they actually met, he still couldn't help being surprised by the other's thorough consideration.

This is an extremely quiet underground bar.

So quiet that only he and the other party were present, and the other party even took over the bartender's role, replacing the originally rich and varied menu with just over ten choices.

Moreover, each option's name bore a place name reminiscent of its homeland.

Besides the Kazdell, Syracuse, and Lantran he already knew, she also specially recommended the so‑called Mist of Minos and the Xistha Iced Tea and similar drinks.

They all looked like strong cocktails, enough to test one's reason; the demon did not decline, merely asking for equal terms.

That is, the other party had to take off the exoskeleton armor attached to their outer robe.

Yes, from Aomo's gaze it was naturally easy to see that the lady's wide outer robe, worn wherever she went, was a set of "equipment".

Not to mention the fiber material looked especially similar to his own suit; just the winding pipes on the exoskeleton kit made it unclear what liquid was flowing through them.

Aomo tentatively guessed that it at least contained emergency medication and nutrient fluid.

It might even contain a sobering agent or the like, after all the other party was largely a fellow professional.

For work such as mercenary or spy, if one person handles it, they must be prepared for any crisis; and the other party's preparation left him unsure whether it was a job requirement or a genuine hobby.

Whichever it was, she undoubtedly had sufficient preparation.

Faced with this situation, Aomo could simply refuse to drink; he was fully qualified and capable of doing so.

But he still felt that to hear a true and complete story, alcohol was generally necessary.

Yet alcohol should only be drunk under relatively equal conditions; that set of equipment, far more conspicuous than Aomo's wristband and card case, was enough for him to first point out the problem and then, unsurprisingly, draw the other party's teasing ridicule.

Just to muster courage, let's go with her.

Anyway, the equipment must come off; otherwise listening to this story would only leave us restrained.

Aomo was also not unable to see through her disguise.

No matter how she acted mad or urgent, before Aomo's unmasked rainbow‑serpent divinity, the one who had clearly trained in Federal Source Energy, the little feathered serpent (?), would still fall into a mental pressure.

However, this pressure was generally nothing compared to what classmate Xiao Te bore last night.

It might even intensify her longing instead—with that genuine, unfeigned image before her, all her cherished wishes seemed as if they could be fulfilled right then, and a stirring of heart and mind was unavoidable.

But even so, her instinctive will to survive would keep warning her.

Precisely because her mind retained the memories, emotions, perceptions, and so on of the feathered‑serpent clan, she could now feel that tremor as if etched into instinct.

It was not just the feathered serpent, not merely the feathered serpent……

The rainbow serpent, the origin of the feathered‑serpent myth; when it is crowned with the divine suffix, it becomes a transcendent being beyond all good and evil, the supreme existence.