Chapter 770: The Ferryman

Lu Mi nodded, letting his right hand fall naturally to the Traveler's Satchel.

He then walked to the dilapidated, gloomy boat, where the highly decayed boatman turned his body aside, clearing a path as if urging him to board.

"Can you ferry me across the River Styx?" Lu Mi asked politely in Dutan.

He reasoned that since the former "Death God" originated from the Southern Continent, speaking Dutan in the Underworld would be more readily accepted by "all parties."

After all, in an environment saturated with death so thick it felt tangible—where a living person couldn't survive a single second—using ancient Hermes languages capable of manipulating natural forces might produce unforeseen effects; for instance, the word "River Styx" might forge a tight bond between Lu Mi and the dark, illusory river, triggering a colossal wave that would drag him in.

The boatman, whose hollow eyes were clogged with thick blood vessels and yellow pus, stared blankly at the vast river, its opposite shore invisible, utterly motionless.

He seemed to be answering Lu Mi through action:

Why are you speaking to a corpse?

I cannot hear you, nor can I speak.

"Ordinary language won't work… I heard the 'Death God' Path has a language called 'Speech of the Dead,' but I don't know it…" Lu Mi muttered silently, his eyes slowly turning silver-white streaked with black as he stepped onto the dilapidated, gloomy boat.

In his "Eye of Catastrophe," the boatman's fate was pure black—lifeless, void, unchanging.

"Does this mean that no matter how hard the boatman struggles, it cannot escape its corpse state, and its only end is to wither away completely over time, leaving no trace of its existence?

"But that doesn't mean the boatman can do nothing before its decay—it can still influence others' fates, including mine and those of other undead. From this perspective, the boatman—or any awakened undead—should still have a fate, even if the outcome is unchangeable…"

"They do have fates, but my current rank is too low to perceive them? Hmm, possible—after all, objects have fates too, yet I cannot see them…"

"Or perhaps, the fates of the dead only manifest through interaction with others' fates…"

Perhaps because he himself had temporarily become undead, Lu Mi found himself pondering the fates of these "inhabitants" of the Underworld.

With his current knowledge of mysticism, he could not define fate precisely, nor did he know how much the mercury-colored river of fate encompassed, or whether it held hidden or unseen aspects.

He believed such aspects must exist, based on several simple questions:

When I put on the Golden Mask of the Egges family and became undead, did the fate river corresponding to me vanish entirely, turning pure black and void?

And when I remove the mask, will the river of fate instantly return?

Is the river of fate some plaything we can manipulate at will?

Though the Golden Mask of the Egges family was forged by the Death God, it contains no extraordinary properties—only a high rank; it cannot possibly treat the river of fate as something so easily toyed with!

"If I get the chance, I'll ask a follower of the 'Monster' Path to observe my fate—see how it changes before and after wearing the Golden Mask…"

"Hmm… never mind. Unless I find a half-god-level 'Monster' Path adept, I'll only endanger them. Even when I had the Seal of the Fool, the false angel rank, and the residual aura of the Blood Emperor, Colonel Kolobo of the Patrol Corps in Port Pales refused to look at me, convinced it would bring him great peril. Now I've added the Seal of the Man of the Mingdao and Oumibela's bloodline…"

Lu Mi stood at the center of the broken boat, his eyes beneath the Golden Mask turning iron-black.

He wanted to observe the boatman's weaknesses in advance, preparing thoroughly for any possible emergency.

At that moment, the highly decayed boatman moved its oar, slowly propelling the gloomy boat toward the other side of the illusory, dark river.

Its entire body was shrouded in gloomy black; Lu Mi searched long and hard but found no trace of the pale white that signaled a weakness.

Of course, this blackness also meant the boatman was entirely vulnerable to sunlight and lightning.

The next instant, Lu Mi heard the voice of the "Knight of Swords," Marichi:

"Its weakness may not be here."

Not here? What does that mean? Can a weakness be separated from the body itself? Lu Mi's mind was flooded with sharp doubt—until he remembered the stories his sister once told him.

In those tales, a certain monster called a lich crafted a talisman box, hiding it in a heavily guarded secret place; as long as the box remained undiscovered and intact, the lich could not truly die—its fatal weakness was severed from its body.

Among the Twenty-Two Divine Paths, such phenomena were not particularly astonishing.

The "Knight of Swords" continued:

"Didn't you just try observing its fate?"

"Its rank is not low. That's a dangerous act."

Rank not low? Lu Mi glanced at the boatman—its tattered rags hanging off, flesh highly decayed—and saw nothing formidable about it.

Yet, since it could ferry across the River Styx without sinking, it must possess extraordinary qualities.

Lu Mi lowered his gaze, closely watching every movement of the boatman, patiently waiting for the gloomy boat to cross the River Styx and reach the opposite shore.

The broken boat rocked slowly, as if on the verge of disintegrating, taking an indeterminate time to reach the river's center.

Suddenly, the highly decayed boatman lifted its long oar and turned its body toward Lu Mi.

As the gloomy boat halted, the boatman's mouth split open—stretching down to its rotting chest, to its excavated navel, to its groin.

The boatman's body unfolded like a garment with all its buttons undone, stretching wide to either side; its chest and abdomen held no blackened organs or bones, only a heap of half-melted, half-decayed arms and legs.

Lu Mi felt again the terror that shook his body and soul, crushing any thought of resistance.

Prepared in advance, he clenched his right hand with great effort.

He gripped the "Sword of Courage" inside the Traveler's Satchel—the hilt of the iron-black straight sword.

Courage flooded Lu Mi's entire body, bringing a mad grin to his face.

What's there to fear in a mere ferryman?

Even if the Death God stood before me, I'd slash Him with this blade!

Lu Mi drew the straight sword, its blade blazing with white-blue flame, and slashed violently toward the boatman, whose membrane stretched wide as it lunged at him.

With a wet *plop*, the "Sword of Courage" cut through the half-melted limbs inside the boatman's belly, striking the rotting skin behind the chest cavity, riddled with holes.

Yet the sword failed to cleave the seemingly fragile, decayed skin.

As Lu Mi prepared to strike again, unleashing a massive explosion, the boatman abruptly retracted, slowly closing its opened chest and abdomen.

At the same moment, Lu Mi heard the "Knight of Swords" speak:

"Stop."

"We've already taken control of it."

"Then let's kill it while we can!" Lu Mi responded without hesitation.

He and the "Knight of Swords" communicated in Intis.

The "Knight of Swords" fell silent for a second, then said:

"I know you aren't afraid of it, and you can kill it—but if it dies, we won't be able to cross the River Styx."

Seeing Lu Mi calm slightly, the "Knight of Swords" added:

"Besides, killing it won't grant you an extraordinary property. It's merely the skin of the true 'Ferryman.' It seems to have been consuming other corpses, trying to regain a body—but never succeeding."

Lu Mi accepted the "Knight of Swords"' explanation.

Courage didn't mean ignoring others' words—it meant selectively ignoring danger warnings.

He promptly returned the "Sword of Courage" to the pile of ordinary straight swords inside the Traveler's Satchel.

This time, he felt no lingering dread, because this was precisely the purpose he had sought in wielding the "Sword of Courage." The only fear he felt was:

"Was the skin of a half-god peeled off?"

"What exactly happened in the Underworld back then?"

Lu Mi watched as the boatman slowly, painfully pressed its split chest skin and decayed flesh back together, like buttoning a coat.

Then, the boatman plunged its long, blackened, rotting oar into the illusory, dark River Styx, and began rowing with even slower strokes, as if resisting something.

The half-god of the Temperance Sect had possessed the boatman, forcibly controlling it to keep rowing? It seemed this control faced fierce resistance… Lu Mi remained ever ready to draw the "Sword of Courage" again, prepared for any emergency.

As the gloomy boat rocked unsteadily toward the opposite shore of the River Styx, Lu Mi, with nothing else to do, asked the "Knight of Swords":

"Earlier, I saw the entire Underworld as layered, descending in circles. Crossing the River Styx should just bring us to the other side of this layer—why did you say it's equivalent to entering the depths of the Underworld?"

The "Knight of Swords" replied simply:

"The geography of the Underworld cannot be fully compared to the real world."

"According to numerous notes from the Egges family, there are two ways to enter the depths of the Underworld: one is to descend layer by layer along the world encircling the River Styx, meant to punish sinners, until reaching the realm where the Death God's followers dwell; the other is to cross the River Styx directly."

I see… Lu Mi pondered, then asked:

"So our destination is the realm once inhabited by the Death God's followers?"

The "Knight of Swords" fell silent for a second, then said:

"The Death God's palace should be there too."

The former Death God's palace? Lu Mi's eyelid twitched.

As Lu Mi and the "Knight of Swords" alternated between silence and conversation, the boundary of the opposite shore of the River Styx finally came into view.

(End of Chapter)