Li Wenxing’s expression was sour.
He was the esteemed Crown Prince, yet now Margaret had stolen the spotlight. Naturally, this left him deeply displeased.
If the
plague-stricken citizens had all perished, he could have successfully
suppressed the news and buried the whole matter in silence.
But with Margaret’s intervention, there was no hiding it now.
What stung even more was that these people were saved by her.
In comparison, he—the Crown Prince—now looked utterly incompetent.
Still, personal frustration aside, he had to maintain appearances.
⸻
Rain had just stopped. A damp mist still rose from the ruins of Wugang City.
Li Wenxing stepped forward through the mud, wearing a warm spring-like smile despite everything.
“Margaret,
you look exhausted. You’ve had a rough day. Come with me back to
camp—I’ve had the cook prepare ginseng soup. It’ll warm you up.”
Margaret wiped rainwater from her face. Her dark green combat robe was already soaked through with mud.
She
glanced at the refugees huddled in a ruined temple nearby—many of them
had just been rescued from the flood, and several children were still
burning with fever.
“Thank
you for your concern, Brother,” she said, her tone neutral, but her
fingers unconsciously tightened around the jade pendant at her waist.
It was a gift from the Emperor, carved with two words: “Protect the People.”
⸻
The
camp was set up on a northern hillside. Blue-grey tents stretched
across the heights, and the gleaming armor of the soldiers outside
formed a stark contrast to the tattered clothes of the disaster victims
below.
Inside
the main tent, warmth filled the space. A golden brazier glowed with
silver charcoal. On the table, platters of smoked venison and fine
liquors were displayed with extravagant precision—each dish arranged
like art.
“Please sit, Sister,” Li Wenxing said warmly as he pulled out a carved pearwood chair for her.
His inner sleeve, exposed as he moved, was lined with cloud-patterned brocade and subtle dragon embroidery.
“This
venison is a tribute from Northern Mo,” he added. “It’s been marinated
in twenty-year vintage wine for three days. Try a bite?”
He
picked up a silver knife and carved a piece of tender meat, the jade
ring on his finger glinting with warmth as he offered it to her.
But Margaret didn’t move her chopsticks. Her eyes were fixed on the military map hanging on the tent wall.
The streets of Wugang were circled in vermilion, and the location of the western slum was marked with a glaring black X.
⸻
“Brother, do you know how many people in the quarantine zone have been infected? And how many of them are innocent?”
Her voice suddenly turned cold, and her fingertip tapped the table sharply.
“On
my way here, I passed through the supply depot. There’s plenty of
medicine stored inside. Why hasn’t any of it been sent to the people?”
Li Wenxing’s hand, holding the silver knife, paused—but only for a moment. Then he laughed heartily.
“Sister,
you misunderstand. Those herbs are reserved for the soldiers. If an
outbreak occurs in the camp, we can’t just let the troops die, can we?”
He poured himself a glass of wine, the liquid ringing crisply as it hit the cup.
“Besides, there are too many refugees. We can’t possibly save them all.”
⸻
“So if you can’t save everyone, you’ll save no one?”
Margaret stood up abruptly. Her green cloak swept past the brazier, scattering sparks into the air.
“Water
can carry a boat, but it can also overturn it. Brother, have you
forgotten? These people are citizens of the Dragon Kingdom, not weeds on
the roadside!”
A gust of wind carrying the scent of rain blew through the tent, making the candles flicker violently.
Li Wenxing’s smile faded slightly. He raised his cup and took a sip.
“Your scolding is fair. But Second Brother and Third Brother were far harsher than I.”
He set down the cup and lowered his voice.
“When
the plague hit Lin City, Li Guanglong simply lit a fire and burned over
ten thousand people alive. Their ashes still rise in black smoke.
In
Liyang, Li Juntang was just as ruthless—burning, killing, burying
without hesitation. Who knows how many innocent lives have been lost at
his hands?”
“In
comparison, I’ve already been merciful. After all, I’m thinking of the
bigger picture—of containing the spread of the disease.”
⸻
“Enough!”
Margaret cut him off, her knuckles pale from clenched fists.
She turned toward the tent flap. The rain had passed, and a pale morning light shone over the land.
Far off, the cries of disaster victims carried in on the wind—like countless needles piercing the heart.
“I’ll remember their crimes. But I will also report your indifference to Father,” she said coldly.
The smile on Li Wenxing’s face froze completely. He set his cup down with a dull thud against the table.
“Sister,
must you be so harsh? We share the same mother. If you would support
me, then in the future, this Dragon Kingdom could be ruled by both of
us.
Together, we could save far more innocent lives—why not take the long view?”
⸻
“You’re wrong, Brother.”
Margaret adjusted her robe, her voice regaining its usual calm and cool tone.
“I’ve never sought power for its own sake. What I want… is for the people to live in peace.”
She cast one final glance at the luxurious dishes before her—delicacies that now seemed like cruel mockery.
“The children in the quarantine zone are still waiting for medicine. I won’t be staying for dinner.”
With that, Margaret turned and walked away.
⸻
Li Wenxing watched her tall, unyielding figure leave. Slowly, the smile on his lips disappeared.
A
cold wind blew in as the tent flap opened, shaking the candle flames
until his shadow stretched across the canvas wall—twisted and sinister.
Only after Margaret had gone far did he clench his fists tightly, his knuckles white, eyes burning with an unspoken fury.
Chapter 2624-2627 31/7-4/8
Chapter 2624 – Atrocities
At this moment, the skies above Lin City were shrouded in thick, black smoke.
The
once-bustling streets now lay in deathly silence. The air was heavy
with the stench of burning, laced with blood and rot, making one
nauseous.
In
the southwest of the city, at the mass burial grounds, fierce flames
still raged. The crackling fire devoured the last traces of life;
charred corpses twisted and deformed in the blaze, and occasionally,
half-burnt limbs rolled from the pyre, revealing pale bones.
Li Guanglong stood on a high slope, dressed in protective gear, expressionlessly overlooking this living hell.
His
sharply defined face was devoid of emotion, as if what burned before
him were not thousands of human lives, but a pile of worthless weeds.
The bloodstains on his protective suit had long dried, glowing with an eerie sheen under the sunlight.
“Your
Highness, we’ve found another thirty-seven infected commoners in the
west of the city. They’ve all been brought in,” the deputy general knelt
on one knee, his voice quivering ever so slightly.
Li
Guanglong gave a small nod, his gaze still fixed on the burning burial
ground. His voice was as calm as if discussing the weather:
“Throw them in.”
“Yes, sir!”
The deputy general stood up and waved to the soldiers behind him.
Thirty-seven
ragged civilians were roughly pushed forward. Some were burning with
fever, barely able to walk. Others had hollow eyes, their strength long
gone.
As
they neared the fire, the heat hit them like a wave. It was only then
that they seemed to wake from a trance and began to scream in horror,
desperately trying to retreat. But the soldiers forced them into the
inferno one by one.
Their agonized screams rang out, only to be drowned moments later by the crackling flames.
“Your
Highness, since we began burning, over eight thousand have been dealt
with,” the deputy general reported again, sweat beading on his forehead.
Li Guanglong did not turn around. He merely replied calmly,
“Keep searching. Don’t let a single infected person slip through.”
“Your Highness!”
A
nearby commander, Wan Chong, stepped forward, unable to hold back. He
frowned deeply at the black smoke rising from the mass grave.
“This can’t go on. Killing so many civilians at once—if the imperial court finds out, the consequences will be unimaginable!”
Even after years on the battlefield, the horrors before him turned his stomach.
He knew the plague was dangerous, but indiscriminate killing like this was simply inhumane.
Li Guanglong finally turned, casting a cold glance at Wan Chong.
“Extraordinary
times require extraordinary measures. The plague is raging—if we don’t
act decisively and it spreads, the entire Lin City will become a
graveyard. Then it won’t be thousands dying, but tens or hundreds of
thousands!”
“As
for Father,” he added flatly, “as long as the information is sealed off
properly, who will know what happened here? Once the plague is over,
everything will be forgotten.”
Wan Chong wanted to argue further, but when he saw the icy look in Li Guanglong’s eyes, he swallowed his words.
He let out a heavy sigh and silently stepped aside.
He knew all too well that Li Guanglong never changed his mind once it was made up. Persuading him was pointless.
The
soldiers continued to push the infected into the flames. The fire on
the burial mound grew more intense, black smoke billowing into the sky,
as if to stain all of Lin City in darkness.
⸻
Meanwhile, in Liyang City, a similarly horrifying scene was unfolding.
Li Juntang stood atop the city tower, looking down at a cordoned-off clearing below.
A massive pit had been dug there, its edges piled with dry brushwood.
“Bring in the infected,” Li Juntang ordered, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.
Soon,
a group of civilians were dragged over. Most were in rags, their bodies
covered in dark blotches. Many were coughing violently, blood streaking
their phlegm.
Some held sick children in their arms—feverish, flushed, and barely breathing.
“Please, spare my child, he’s just a baby!” a woman cried, kneeling and kowtowing so hard her forehead split open and bled.
Li Juntang watched without the slightest hint of empathy, as if he hadn’t heard her pleas.
“Throw them in.”
Soldiers stepped forward and tore the child from her arms, hurling both mother and child into the pit.
One after another, more civilians were thrown in. The pit filled with desperate screams and begging cries.
“Burn them,” Li Juntang ordered flatly.
Torches were tossed in. The dry brush caught fire instantly, flames rapidly engulfing the pit.
The screams stopped abruptly, replaced by the crackling of burning flesh.
Thick smoke rolled upward, choking the skies of Liyang City. The smell of burning was even more pungent than in Lin City.
An
elderly man tried to charge from the crowd to save someone, but a
soldier cut him down on the spot, his blood staining the ground.
“Anyone who resists—kill without mercy!” Li Juntang barked, his eyes gleaming with ruthless intent.
Below
the tower, a child—no more than seven or eight—peeked out from a pile
of brushwood. He looked at the roaring flames in the pit, then at the
cold figure above. His eyes were filled with fear and confusion.
His parents had just been thrown into that pit. He had survived only by hiding.
The fire continued to burn, devouring life after life.
The
people of Liyang City huddled in corners, trembling. No one dared to
speak. The entire city had become a giant grave, with only that burning
pit silently testifying to the horror that had taken place.
Chapter 2625: Seeking the Elixir in Penglai
In the blink of an eye, five days had passed.
The
plague in the southern frontier had finally been brought under
control—but the aftermath in the various cities couldn’t have been more
different.
Pucheng, where the outbreak had first begun, ended up suffering the least. The people were all properly resettled and cared for.
Wugang
City came next. Thanks to its proximity to Pucheng and Margaret’s
timely intervention, they were also able to completely eliminate the
mutated plague, though at some cost.
But in contrast, Lin City and Liyang City paid a devastating price despite eradicating the disease.
Thousands upon thousands of civilians were burned alive. Corpses were piled like mountains.
Though
Li Guanglong and Li Juntang did their utmost to cover up the events,
using the excuse of “preventing the spread of the plague,” word
inevitably got out.
Soon, the court and the public were in an uproar.
Some
condemned Li Guanglong and Li Juntang’s cruelty. Others argued that
extreme times called for extreme measures, and saw nothing wrong with
what had been done.
Once
the epidemic was over, Margaret returned to Yanjing with her team and
submitted a secret letter to the Emperor, reporting in detail on the
actions of the three princes.
⸻
Inside the Forbidden City
The aroma of incense mingled with the heavy scent of medicine, forming a dense and clinging mist inside the Imperial Study.
Li
Weimin, clad in a dragon-embroidered robe, was leaning sideways on a
soft couch draped in white fox fur. His withered wrist rested on a
golden pulse pillow, his fingertips an unhealthy gray-blue.
When
Li Dequan entered with the sealed secret letter—its wax seal cracked
and flaking—the Emperor was in a violent coughing fit. The embroidered
silk handkerchief he held was already stained with blood the color of
the rosewood blossoms once gifted from the southern frontier.
“Read… it… out…” Li Weimin’s voice was hoarse, like it had been scraped with sandpaper. Every word visibly strained his chest.
Li
Dequan had barely begun reading—“Eight thousand civilians turned to
ash”—when Li Weimin suddenly sat bolt upright, his fingers digging into
the carved wood of the couch’s edge.
The
secret letter slipped from Li Dequan’s trembling hands, unfolding on
the floor. In its creases, it was as if the towering flames of the south
could still be seen.
“Unfilial beasts!”
A
low growl erupted from Li Weimin’s throat like a trapped animal. A
mouthful of blood surged up and splattered across his yellow dragon
robe, blooming into a blinding crimson flower.
“Your
Majesty!” Li Dequan dropped to his knees, pressing down on the
Emperor’s trembling shoulders. His voice cracked as he screamed,
“Summon the imperial physicians! Quickly!”
By the time the physicians arrived carrying their medicine chests, the Emperor had already lapsed into semi-consciousness.
Silver
needles pierced key acupoints—Baihui, Shanzhong—and only then did he
open his eyes slightly. Reflections of candlelight flickered in his
clouded pupils.
Chief
Imperial Physician Qin Henian took the pulse, then pulled Li Dequan
aside. He whispered in an alarmed hush, “His Majesty’s essence has been
depleted down to the marrow. His pulse is like a candle flickering in
the wind. I’m afraid…”
“How much time is left?” Li Dequan grabbed the physician’s sleeve, his knuckles white.
Qin
Henian swallowed hard, fingers running along the brass clasp of his
medicine case. “A month at the shortest. Three months at most.”
Just
then, the clepsydra in the study gave a faint “click.” The Emperor was
awake, gazing at the Big Dipper-shaped lamp suspended from the ceiling.
“Qin
Henian…” Li Weimin spoke with eerie calm, “I know my own body. But
Longguo cannot be without a ruler for even a day. If you have even the
slightest method—no matter how defiant of heaven—then I will accept it.”
With
a thud, Qin Henian knelt, pressing his forehead to the cold golden
brick floor. “Your Majesty, forgive me! I… I once read in an ancient
text that on the Immortal Isle of Penglai in the Eastern Sea, there
exists an elixir of immortality. It is said that King Mu of Zhou once
rode eight fine steeds there in search of it. He did not achieve
immortality—but he did prolong his life by three cycles of twelve
years.”
“Penglai?”
A glint of light sparked in Li Weimin’s eyes, but it quickly dimmed
again. “A sea voyage of ten thousand miles, rife with monsters and
dangers. Who could I possibly send?”
Li
Dequan suddenly spoke up, “Your Majesty, the three princes are in their
prime. And Princess An’yang is wise and capable. Perhaps…”
“They?”
The Emperor let out a bitter laugh, which triggered another coughing
fit. “Li Guanglong is reckless. Li Juntang is sinister. Li Wenxing is
timid. As for Margaret—she’s good, but still just a woman…”
He didn’t finish the sentence before being overcome by another wave of violent coughing.
Li Dequan rushed to pat his back and ease his breathing.
After
a long while, the Emperor finally caught his breath and sighed heavily.
“Forget it. No matter what, we must try. Let this journey to Penglai
serve as their trial.”
“Immediately
issue a decree. Have Li Guanglong, Li Juntang, and Li Wenxing prepare
vessels and sail for Penglai to retrieve the elixir.”
“Tell them this—whoever brings back the Immortal Elixir shall be the Crown Prince!”
“As you command!” Li Dequan bowed and turned to leave—but was halted again by the Emperor.
“Wait… Bring Margaret along as well. I don’t trust those three fools to handle it alone.”
“Understood!”
Though his heart trembled, Li Dequan kept his expression calm.
Whoever
returned with the elixir would become the next heir to the throne. The
Emperor’s meaning was clear: this wasn’t just a competition between the
three princes. Princess An’yang—Margaret—would be a contender too.
For all the political factions in the capital, this was a massive upheaval.
It wouldn’t be long before a storm engulfed Stonia.
Chapter 2626 – Seeking the Elixir for Father
When the emperor Li Weimin’s decree was issued, each faction reacted differently.
At this moment, Li Wenxing was in his study, calculating the pros and cons of the recent journey to the southern frontier.
Although
he hadn’t performed remarkably, compared to Li Guanglong and Li
Juntang, he still came out ahead in some respects. But that minor
advantage clearly wasn’t enough to change anything significant.
Just
then, Qian Jin burst into the room in a hurry and reported, “Your
Highness! News from the palace: His Majesty’s condition has worsened. He
has little time left. A special decree has been issued—whichever royal
family member retrieves the elixir from Penglai Island shall be chosen
as the future crown prince!”
“The future crown prince?”
Hearing this, Li Wenxing’s spirit was instantly lifted. But soon, he frowned again.
Of
course, he had heard tales of Penglai Island, but they were just
that—tales. No one truly knew if the island existed in the East Sea, or
whether it held the so-called immortality elixir.
It was clear his father was desperately grasping at straws in his illness.
However, with the throne now within reach—regardless of truth or peril—he had to give it a try.
“Send
my orders immediately: Lock down all docks on the East Sea coast. Bring
in every fisherman who’s ever sailed east, regardless of age, and
question them. Also, bring out the batch of glass mirrors we traded from
Persia—rumor has it they can pierce the illusions of the sea,” Li
Wenxing commanded without hesitation.
“Yes, Your Highness!” Qian Jin dared not delay and rushed out to make the arrangements.
⸻
Meanwhile, in the residence of Li Guanglong.
The
utterly exhausted Li Guanglong had barely taken a breath when he was
informed of the imperial edict. He immediately rushed out to receive it.
Upon hearing the contents of the decree, he was first stunned—then overjoyed.
He
had thought his father would harshly reprimand him this time. Instead,
his illness had worsened, and he had begun seeking an elixir to preserve
his life.
If he could retrieve that elixir from Penglai Island, he would be the next emperor!
“Wanzhong!
Pass my command—gather the elite troops at once, ready the ships. I’m
going to Penglai Island to seek the elixir!” Li Guanglong declared
boldly.
“But
Your Highness,” Wanzhong hesitated, frowning slightly, “Penglai Island
only exists in legend. We don’t even know where it is. How will we find
an elixir?”
Let alone retrieving an elixir—they didn’t even know if the island was real. It might just be old fisherman’s gossip.
“If
we don’t know, then find out! I want every scrap of information about
Penglai Island dug up! Understood?” Li Guanglong snapped.
“At once, Your Highness!” Wanzhong dared not say more and left in a hurry.
⸻
Inside a luxury car speeding down the road.
Li
Juntang, resting with his eyes closed, suddenly received a phone call.
After learning the full details, he couldn’t help but burst into
laughter.
“Good, good, very good! Penglai Island, is it? Seeking the elixir, is it? Hmph… the crown prince’s seat will be mine!”
After hanging up, Li Juntang immediately ordered the driver to turn around and head to another location.
He
had only heard a few mentions of Penglai Island before—never enough to
understand it fully. But he had one advantage: he knew someone who did
understand it.
Because that person had once been there.
⸻
Margaret, upon receiving the imperial order, was not nearly as excited as her three brothers. Instead, she furrowed her brows.
First, her father’s worsening condition was cause for concern.
Second, the emperor was now using the throne itself as a bargaining chip to chase after some elusive immortality elixir.
She was certain this would spark a bloody storm.
Most crucially, any emperor chosen by such a method would be full of uncertainty.
She couldn’t help but think of the innocent lives lost in the southern region, and it filled her heart with fire.
Li Wenxing, Li Guanglong, and Li Juntang—none of them were wise rulers.
If any of them ascended the throne, who knew what chaos would follow?
“Does
Penglai Island really have an immortality elixir?” Margaret turned
toward the front, asking Dustin, who was quietly polishing his sword.
Without
stopping, Dustin answered calmly, “Ancient texts describe three
celestial mountains around Penglai: Fangzhang, Yingzhou, and Penglai
itself. But according to fishermen who’ve sailed out there, it’s more
like a rift in time and space—those who enter see different things.”
He placed his sword on the table. Its ridge reflected his handsome face.
“A
hundred years ago, a high monk attempted to go preach at Penglai. When
he returned, he was deranged, babbling about creatures living off the
life force of other beings, and even claimed to have seen warships from
the Zhou Dynasty. Even stranger, he left as a young man and returned
with white hair and beard—as if decades had passed.”
Margaret’s brows twitched. “People go in but don’t come out?”
“More
like… their fate is unknown,” Dustin replied flatly. “Some say it’s a
land of immortals that grants eternal life. Others say it’s hell itself,
where all who enter are stripped of their souls and damned forever.”
“So ominous?” Margaret narrowed her eyes.
“Just rumors,” Dustin shrugged. “No one knows for sure.”
“I’m planning to go to the East Sea and search for this so-called Penglai Island,” Margaret said directly.
“I
was thinking the same,” Dustin said earnestly. “The old man in my
family probably doesn’t have long left either. If we can find the island
and retrieve the elixir, maybe he can live a few more years.”
It
wasn’t just Li Weimin who was terminally ill—Dustin’s father, Lu
Wanjun, was also suffering from the five decays of heaven and man, and
his days were numbered.
Now, with this opportunity, Dustin naturally wouldn’t let it slip by.
No matter what, they had to try.
Chapter 2627: Sea Monster Beneath the Waves
Margaret stood before a desk piled high with nautical charts, her fingers gently tracing the yellowed hemp paper.
The crimson-drawn sea routes looked like dried veins of blood, glinting eerily under the candlelight.
When
Dustin entered the room, he caught sight of her stuffing a thick stack
of leather-bound logs into a rosewood chest. Peeking between the pages
were notes labeled “Freshwater Reserves” and “Ration
Allocations”—meticulous plans for a long sea voyage.
“Any word from the fishermen?” Dustin asked.
Margaret
looked up, her eyes reflecting the dusk settling outside the window.
“Su Lan just returned from the fishing port. She found an old fisherman
named Qin. He claims to have seen a mirage three years ago near the
Blackwater Trench—said there was a magnificent palace floating in the
clouds, and a stone tablet at the front with the word ‘Penglai’ carved
into it.”
She
paused, then tapped her fingers on the desk. “But the old man said the
vision lasted no longer than the time it takes to burn a stick of
incense. When he looked back, even the sea mist had vanished.”
Dustin
stepped up and picked up a map marked “Blackwater Trench.” Around the
vortex area, scribbled in crooked handwriting by local fishermen, were
notes:
“Strange winds in June—no ship returns.”
“Giant creature below—wailing sounds at night.”
His finger slid over the rough writing, and he chuckled softly. “More honest than any palace cartographer’s map.”
⸻
Three Days Later — Dawn
The fishing port of Haizhou was shrouded in salty morning fog.
Margaret,
clad in a dark green combat outfit, stood on the deck of the
Wavebreaker, watching soldiers load the final batch of supplies.
Both
sides of the deck were stacked with sealed clay jars containing
compressed rations and herbs. The freshwater storage below deck had been
reinforced with lead sheets—enough to last three months. Tools and
weapons for various dangers had also been neatly prepared.
“Old
Qin,” Margaret turned toward the shriveled man huddled near the rail.
He gripped a faded protective charm so tightly that his knuckles were
white.
“You’re certain it was west of the Blackwater Trench?”
The
old fisherman nodded with a trembling chin, his clouded eyes gazing
toward the churning waves. “No mistake. That year, my youngest boy died
right there. The sun was fierce that day, then suddenly a white mist
rolled in. Within it, the island appeared, like some heavenly palace.
Grand as could be.”
He suddenly broke into a harsh coughing fit, his back curling like a boiled shrimp.
“And the nets that touched that fog the next day? Turned to rags.”
Dustin tapped the iron anchor at the ship’s edge, his fingers knocking lightly on a rusted iron ring.
A faint tremor echoed through the chain—like something stirring in the depths.
He looked up at the horizon. The clouds were darkening at a pace visible to the naked eye, ink spreading over parchment.
“Raise
anchor,” Dustin commanded, his voice cutting through the rising wind.
“If we delay any longer, the typhoon will trap us in the harbor.”
The crew scrambled to turn the capstan. The heavy anchor emerged with a stream of bubbles trailing behind.
As
the Wavebreaker’s white sails unfurled in the morning breeze, Old Qin
collapsed onto the deck, mumbling as he stared at the frothy trail in
their wake: “Shouldn’t have come… really shouldn’t have come…”
⸻
The First Five Days at Sea
The voyage was smooth. The sapphire sea shimmered, seabirds swooped, and the sunset dyed the water a molten gold.
Each
day, Margaret climbed to the lookout to scan the horizon with a
telescope. Meanwhile, Dustin remained below, studying ancient texts
about Penglai.
But on the sixth day, in the afternoon—
The sky darkened like night.
The helmsman noticed it first. The compass needle spun wildly, and the brass casing seared his fingers.
Before he could call out, the ship bucked violently—like a toy caught in a giant’s invisible hand.
Margaret slammed into the rail, her jade pendant cracking with a sharp snap.
“It’s a waterspout!” someone screamed.
A
towering column of water shot from the sea to the clouds. Lightning
flashed through the swirling black clouds, striking down like silver
snakes, briefly illuminating the monstrous vortex below.
Raindrops fell like needles, hammering the deck. The sails shredded in the gales, shrieking like wounded beasts.
Margaret
leapt to the top of the mast. A golden shield formed in her palm,
barely deflecting the collapsing mast from crushing her.
Looking
down, she saw the sea had turned pitch black. Waves surged as high as
buildings, and the spray carried chunks of ice—though it was midsummer,
the water was deathly cold.
“Hold on to anything solid!” she shouted. Though the wind tore her words to shreds, her voice carried an unshakable command.
Soldiers
clung to chains and railings in chaos. Some were swept overboard
without time to scream, devoured by the churning vortex.
Then—
The lookout’s scream pierced through the storm: “Tentacles! There are tentacles!”
Margaret
looked up and saw them—massive grey limbs rising from the waves, as
thick as barrels, their surfaces lined with suction cups. Inside some
cups, shards of bone were faintly visible.
One
slammed down onto the deck, splintering teakwood like paper. Two
soldiers were caught, their bodies yanked and torn in half—blood and
viscera splashing across the sails.
Chapter 2629: Swarm of Flesh-Eating Fish- Today August 7th
Dustin landed lightly on the shattered deck, the golden light on his longsword slowly fading away.
Dark green blood floated in thick patches across the sea’s surface, spreading gradually through the rain.
Somehow,
the typhoon had already receded into the distance. The dark clouds
split open, revealing a long-lost ray of sunlight, which shone down on
the scarred and battered Wavebreaker.
Margaret steadied herself against the swaying rail and exhaled slowly as she gazed out over the now-calm waters.
That
Eight-Tentacled Fish Demon had been powerful enough to reach the realm
of Grandmaster. Its massive size and terrifying regenerative ability
made it a monster few could face head-on.
Even a typical Grandmaster would have stood no chance.
Thankfully, Dustin had been with them—otherwise, who knows how many lives would have been lost on this voyage?
Now
that the sea had calmed and the storm had passed, the Wavebreaker
floated quietly across the water. The deck was in ruins—bloodstains,
broken planks, and scattered debris everywhere.
Soldiers slumped down, breathing heavily, their faces still haunted by fear.
“Are you alright?”
Margaret approached Dustin.
“I’m fine,” he replied with a shake of his head. “That sea beast was strong, but not strong enough to harm me.”
“Still,”
he added, glancing out over the horizon, “it’s strange that we’ve only
just entered the East Sea and already encountered such a powerful
creature.”
“The
East Sea is vast… and full of mysteries,” Margaret said, her expression
turning serious. “There are vast stretches of it no one has ever
explored. Especially in the deep sea—we don’t even know how many
monsters lurk beneath. This journey… it won’t be a peaceful one.”
Though she had mentally prepared herself before embarking, Margaret had still underestimated the dangers of the East Sea.
They
had only been sailing for three days, and already they’d faced a
nightmare. What awaited them further ahead might be far worse.
Still, it was too late to turn back now. They had no choice but to keep moving forward—one step at a time.
The sunlight scattered across the waves, sparkling on the vast sea.
The Wavebreaker sailed on slowly, heading toward the unknown.
Though the crew was physically and mentally exhausted, their eyes now carried unwavering resolve.
They knew more challenges awaited them. But they were ready.
No matter what came next, they would not retreat.
On deck, soldiers began clearing the battlefield and repairing the ship.
The medics rushed about treating the wounded. Despite the harsh conditions, everyone was doing their best.
Margaret and Dustin stood at the prow, gazing out into the distance, their expressions complex.
They
didn’t know where the legendary Penglai Island was, or what they might
face along the way—but they believed that as long as they persevered,
they would reach their goal.
A gentle sea breeze blew across the deck, carrying the scent of hope.
The Wavebreaker continued its voyage across the vast ocean, heading toward the fabled island of legends—Penglai.
⸻
As
dusk fell, Li Wenxing’s flagship—the Sea-Subduing Dragon Charger—was
cutting through the choppy waves of the East Sea with its fleet.
The bronze lanterns on deck had just been lit when a lookout on the western mast suddenly screamed, voice trembling with terror:
“Underwater! There are so many dark shapes!”
Before the words were finished, the ship shuddered violently.
A horrible grinding sound echoed from beneath the hull, like countless sharp teeth gnawing at the wood.
Li Wenxing grabbed the intricately carved rail and looked over—only to see the sea churning with foam.
Thousands of gray-silver fish shapes surged through the waves—each half the size of a man.
They
were flesh-eating fish, with flat heads, rows of jagged teeth like
saws, and dorsal fins that glinted like blades as they slammed furiously
into the hull.
“Deep-sea Flesh-Eating Pompano!” someone cried, collapsing in terror. “These… these things are monsters!”
Ordinary flesh-eating pompano were only palm-sized—these had clearly evolved into something far more deadly.
As he spoke, a massive hole suddenly burst open at the stern.
Dozens of the fish surged onto the deck through the rushing seawater.
A nearby guard barely had time to draw his blade before one fish clamped its jaws onto his leg.
The
swarm twisted and tore—within seconds, his bones were gnawed clean. His
scream was abruptly cut off, and the deck was splattered with shredded
flesh and blood.
One soldier managed to unsheathe his sword and slash through the incoming fish with a burst of energy.
Even after being cleaved in half, the fish kept flopping on the deck, their jaws still snapping clack clack clack.
But more kept pouring in from cracks in the hull.
Their scales were hard as iron—regular blades barely left a scratch—while the soldiers’ own flesh was torn open with ease.
Blood flowed through the deck cracks and into the sea, drawing even more fish into a frenzy.
Suddenly, a massive wave surged upward.
A gigantic flesh-eating pompano, over ten meters long, burst from the ocean.
Its
entire body was pitch black, its dorsal fin lined with bony spikes. Its
head was larger than a barrel, and its twin rows of fangs glowed with a
ghostly blue venom.
It was the Flesh-Eating Fish King.
With a single bite, it snapped off the side railing of a nearby ship.
Several soldiers failed to dodge and were swallowed whole.
The grotesque gulping sound echoed through the night sky, sending chills down everyone’s spine.
“Fire!”
A commanding officer shouted the order while slashing through more fish.
Cannons and muskets roared into life, pounding the water’s surface like a thunderstorm.
Countless
fish floated belly-up in the bloodied water, but the Fish King surged
back into the fray—this time leading an even larger swarm.
With a mighty crash, it rammed into one of Li Wenxing’s escort ships—splitting it clean in half.
Sea water surged in, dragging the ravenous fish behind it.
The armored guards struggled waist-deep in water, but were quickly overwhelmed.
Only a mess of blood, bubbles, and shattered bones remained.
Watching the horror unfold, soldiers on the remaining ships felt their scalps go numb.
Chapter End-
English version 8/9/25
2630-2631
Logan
landed lightly on the battered deck, the golden glow fading from his
blade. A thick pool of dark green blood floated on the waves, spreading
slowly beneath the drizzle.
Somewhere
in the distance, the typhoon had silently withdrawn. A break appeared
in the thick clouds, revealing the long-lost sunlight. It streamed down
onto the devastated Breaking Waves, casting light over the chaos and
ruin.
Grace
steadied herself against the ship’s splintered railing and stared out
at the sea as it gradually calmed. She finally exhaled a long-held
breath.
The
octopus monster they’d just faced had been a Grandmaster-level
threat—massive, relentless, and capable of terrifying regeneration. If
not for Logan, they wouldn’t have stood a chance. A regular cultivator
wouldn’t have even scratched it.
Now,
the storm had passed. The sea lay still. The Breaking Waves floated
quietly, though its deck was a disaster—splattered with blood, littered
with shattered wood, and soaked in seawater. Exhausted soldiers slumped
where they stood, breathing heavily, their faces still etched with
lingering fear.
Grace walked over to Logan. “Are you alright?” she asked.
“I’m
fine,” Logan replied, shaking his head. “That thing was strong, but it
wasn’t enough to hurt me. Still…” He glanced at the waves with narrowed
eyes. “It’s strange to encounter something of that caliber just days
into the East Dragonmarsh Sea.”
Grace
nodded, her expression somber. “This place is vast and shrouded in
mystery. No one’s explored the deep sea regions, and we have no idea
what’s hiding out here. I think we’ve only scratched the surface.”
Even
with all her preparation, Grace had clearly underestimated the dangers
that awaited them. This was only the third day at sea—and already,
they’d nearly been wiped out. Who knew what else lurked ahead?
But there was no turning back now.
The
sunlight filtered through the clouds, casting a golden shimmer across
the surface of the sea. The Breaking Waves, though bruised and battered,
slowly pushed forward, heading into the unknown.
Though
drained, the crew’s eyes still held a determined glint. They knew worse
threats lay ahead, but none of them intended to back down.
On
deck, the soldiers got to work. Some cleared away debris and mopped up
blood. Others began the long process of repairing the hull. Medics
rushed between the injured, doing the best they could with limited
supplies and no time to rest.
Grace
and Logan stood together at the bow, staring into the distant horizon.
They didn’t know where Fairyharbor Island was—only that it existed,
somewhere beyond these waters.
But as long as they kept moving forward, they’d reach it.
The sea breeze swept across the deck, cool and steady. It carried with it a whisper of hope.
The Breaking Waves pressed onward across the vast ocean, chasing the fading myth of Fairyharbor Island.
That evening…
Far ahead, another fleet carved its way through the East Dragonmarsh Sea.
Tristan
stood at the helm of the lead ship as dusk settled in. A copper lantern
flickered beside him, casting eerie shadows on the deck. Just as he was
about to issue a routine order, the west lookout screamed:
“Water—shadows! So many of them!”
The
warning had barely left his mouth before the ship lurched violently. A
horrible grinding sound echoed up from the hull, like sharp teeth
gnawing through wood.
Tristan gripped the railing and peered over the edge.
The sea had erupted into froth.
Thousands
of sleek, silver-gray fish writhed in the water, each one half a meter
long, with serrated jaws and dagger-like dorsal fins glinting under the
dim light. The frenzy had begun.
“Deep-sea piranhas!” someone cried, collapsing in terror. “These aren’t normal piranhas—these are monsters!”
The
words had barely been spoken when a loud crack tore through the stern. A
swarm of piranhas surged onto the deck with the seawater.
One
soldier was caught instantly—his leg clamped by a set of steel jaws.
The creature twisted violently, ripping through flesh and sinew until
white bone showed. His scream was cut short as blood sprayed across the
deck.
Another
soldier slashed his sword in panic, cleaving several fish in two. But
even dismembered, the piranhas flopped madly across the wood, their jaws
still snapping with terrifying force.
More
and more poured through cracks in the hull. Their scales were tougher
than iron; regular weapons barely scratched them. But human skin? It
tore like paper. Blood gushed across the deck, and the scent drove the
frenzy to new heights.
Then the waves rose.
A
monstrous shadow burst from the sea—a three-meter-long giant piranha.
Jet black from head to tail, with bony spikes on its back and fangs
laced with venom that shimmered blue under the moonlight.
The Piranha King.
It
lunged at the ship, sinking its fangs into the railings. Several
soldiers were too slow—swallowed whole in an instant. Their screams
echoed briefly, then fell silent, drowned by the beast’s gurgling
throat.
“Open fire!” someone bellowed.
Explosions rang out across the sea.
Bullets peppered the water like hail. Dozens of fish floated to the surface, belly-up, blood turning the ocean crimson.
But before the smoke even cleared, the Piranha King returned—with an even larger school behind it.
With one bone-crushing strike, it slammed into the side of an escort vessel, cleaving it clean in half.
Water flooded the shattered ship.
Piranhas
swarmed into the rising current like demons unleashed. Soldiers
thrashed in waist-deep water, but within seconds, the deck was painted
in blood and shredded flesh. All that remained were bone fragments and
air bubbles drifting to the surface.
On the remaining ships, terror spread like wildfire. The soldiers looked on, their faces pale and their hearts pounding.
The sea had no mercy.
And it was only the beginning.
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