Chapter 612: Journey to the Land of the Dead

Bader and Nanna's bodies were carried to the shore.

The Gods rushed from all corners of Asgard, standing silently before the massive longship.

It was a ship named Spirit Boat.

The hull was crafted from the wood of an entire World Tree, each plank engraved with rune script, and the sail was stowed on the mast.

At this moment, it was dragged onto the beach, stranded among sand and stones, like a beached giant whale.

Bader lay in the center of the ship, a blanket woven by Fu Li Jia spread beneath him, and a feather pillow from Fuleiya placed under his head.

His golden hair, carefully combed, lay on the pillow, looking in the dusk like a faded banner.

Nanna lay beside him, pressed close, as if even in sleep she had to be next to him.

Her hand rested on his back of the hand, knuckles stiff yet clasped tightly, unable to be pried apart.

The Gods formed a circle around the ship.

No one spoke.

Sea breeze blew from afar, rustling Fu Li Jia's skirt hem, blowing Thor's hair over his eyes, and jingling Fuleiya's necklace.

They stood there, watching the ship, watching the two people aboard, watching the dusk sink away bit by bit.

"I'll push," Thor finally spoke, his voice hoarse, like a rusty iron gate being pushed open.

He walked to the stern, braced both hands on the deck, bent over, his muscles taut as if about to explode.

But even giving his all, he could not move the massive ship!

"I'll help you!"

"I'll come too!"

TiEr stood beside him, supporting the ship's side with his only remaining hand.

Fulei, Hai Mu Da Er, Vidar... one after another stepped forward, pressing their hands onto the hull.

The Gods combined their strength, shouting in unison—yet the ship remained motionless!

"Damn, how is this possible?!"

Thor's face flushed red, veins bulging from his forehead to his neck, his jaw clenched with a grinding sound.

But the ship did not move, as if nailed to the beach, as if the whole sea were holding it, refusing to let it go.

At that moment, Yu Lin spoke, "To Jotunheim."

"Summon a female giant named Xi Er Luo Jin."

"Only she can move it."

Upon hearing this, the Gods halted, immediately acting on his suggestion.

Then.

The message reached Jotunheim.

Moments later, a black dot appeared on the BeiFang horizon, growing larger and nearer, accompanied by the sound of wind and thunder.

It was a female giant riding a wolf.

The wolf was gray, as large as a mountain, its four paws treading on clouds, its tail dragging on the ground, sweeping up dust across the sky.

Xi Er Luo Jin sat on the wolf's back, towering in stature, rugged features, red hair like a blaze, flowing over her shoulders.

She leapt from the wolf's back onto the beach, each step shaking the ground.

"I'm here!"

"Everyone, move aside!"

She walked to the stern, glanced at the Gods, said nothing, and placed her hand on the deck.

Her palm was large, knuckles thick. She inhaled deeply, bent over—push.

The ship moved!

It slid out from the sand and stones, emitting a low groan, like a sleeping giant beast awakened.

The hull rolled over the beach, over pebbles, over shells and seaweed washed up by the waves.

Seawater rose up, not covering the hull, not covering the gunwale, not covering the rune script on the ship's side.

The moment the ship entered the water, the impact shook the entire beach; the mooring rope tied to the stone pillar snapped, the thick hemp rope sprang like a snake, snapping on the sand, leaving a deep trench!

"Throw fire!"

The Gods retreated to the shore.

Torches were thrown, flames leapt upward, licking the hull, licking the mast, licking the silver‑white sail.

The firelight illuminated the entire sea surface, burning the dusk into a massive hole.

Aoding walked to the fire, plucked the ring, Deropunier, from his finger.

The dwarf‑crafted treasure, every nine days produced eight gold rings of equal weight.

It represents endless wealth!

He tossed the ring into the fire; the golden light flashed once in the flames, then was devoured.

May it appreciate in the Underworld, and may Bader live in Heerhaimu like a god of light!

The ship burned brighter, flames surged to the mast top, turning the sail into ash that filled the sky.

The ash drifted in the wind, landing on the sea surface, on the Gods' shoulders, in Fu Li Jia's hair.

She stood there, watching the ship drift farther, burn smaller, finally turning into an orange‑red Light Dot in the sky, vanishing where dusk meets the sea.

Afterward, the Gods dispersed.

Not just dispersed; for instance, Thor has already gone to look for Loki's whereabouts..............

Aoding turned and walked toward the palace.

He walked across the beach, across the stone path, past the silent stone statues and cold armor, and returned to his palace.

Standing at the doorway, his gaze passed through the colonnades and courtyard, landing toward the Palace of the Mist Sea.

Fu Li Jia was crying there, her sobs coming out of the silvery mist, muffled, as if separated by a thick wall.

Aoding stood for a long while. Then he spoke.

"Helmod."

"Father, I have come."

A figure appeared at the doorway.

Helmod, also Aoding's son, holds the office of Divine Messenger.

His build was slender, his features gaunt, somewhat resembling Bader, but lacking Bader's dazzling, blinding light.

He was like moonlight—soft, quiet—standing there, waiting.

His hair was dark brown, tied at the back of his head, revealing a sharply chiseled face, his brows and eyes bearing an unflinching resolve.

He wore a dark blue short robe, a silver belt at his waist, and leather boots on his feet. He

Aoding looked at him and said, "I need you."

"Ride Sleipnir, rush to Heerhaimu,"

"Find Haila, ask her to return Bader and Nanna."

"Whatever price she demands, it is acceptable."

Helmod did not ask why; he simply nodded.

"I will go at once."

He turned and walked out of the palace.

Outside the gate stood a horse, the eight‑legged divine steed Sleipnir.

Its coat was gray, like the dawn sky of winter, each hair shimmering with silver.

Its stature was taller than any horse, its back broad, its four hooves steady.

What set it apart were its eight legs—four front, four rear—arranged orderly; when it ran, it was like wind, like lightning, like light skimming over water.

At this moment it quietly watched Helmod, exhaling warm white vapor from its nostrils.

Helmod reached out and stroked its forehead.

Sleipnir lowered its head, nudging his palm.

Then he swung onto the horse, grasped the reins tightly, and gently tapped the horse's belly with his heel.

Sleipnir let out a whinny, its eight hooves kicking up, leaping from the stone steps of the Golden Palace, stepping onto the clouds, and galloping forward.

Its speed was like an arrow released from a bow; the wind howled in his ears, clouds roiled beneath his feet, Asgard's lights grew farther and smaller behind him, finally turning into a tiny Light Dot.

Ahead lay darkness—boundless, heavy, a darkness through which even starlight could not penetrate.

Heerhaimu.

Also called Haila's Underworld!

Of course.

Helmod did not see.

Yu Lin followed not far behind him, muttering:

"Hell has already communicated with the Underworld; has Haila ever communicated with the Underworld?"

"Go ask her."