The front of the ship was already crowded with people, and the atmosphere was lively. Everyone was excited and frenzied.
“That tree must be the Fusang tree from myth, the divine tree where the Golden Crow roosts,” Gao Huan said with absolute certainty.
He was very serious, different from his usual playful demeanor. He still hadn’t recovered from the grief of his father’s murder. But his profound knowledge of myth and legend did not allow him to stay silent; he had to step forward and explain this incomprehensible phenomenon to everyone. …
Li Weiyi stood at the back of the crowd, gazing into the distance. In the deep sea, two colossal mulberry trees grew side by side, their gnarled trunks stretching upward, their branches lushly expanding into the sky. The distance from the bronze ship was probably several hundred, even several thousand li.
Because the trunks of the two trees appeared so faint, it was as if one were looking at the moon from tens of thousands of li away early in the morning. Only when the distance was great enough would such a vision appear.
Li Weiyi had once looked at snow mountains from hundreds of li away, and he knew that feeling of distant, hazy blurriness. These two mulberry trees, from the distance they were viewed, were undoubtedly much farther than several hundred li away. Their heights were several times that of the distant snow mountains, as if they touched the heavens.
“The trunks must be even stouter than a mountain’s body, and their heights… could be tens of thousands of meters, who knows,” he murmured.
Had it not been for every leaf on the two trees shining brightly like thousands of crescent moons, Li Weiyi might have doubted that what he saw was nothing but a mirage. Traveling with the bronze ship as it cut through the winds and waves, the distance gradually closed.
The trunks at the horizon became clear and one could even make out the grooved wooden patterns like ravines. On the sea, a thick fog began to roll in. In the midst of the fog, numerous golden flowers of various sizes bloomed.
They had no leaves, only delicate white roots immersed in water. These golden flowers emitted a refreshing and otherworldly fragrance. Some were over ten meters in diameter, while others were only the size of a fist, all glowing brilliantly like thousands of divine lamps floating on the sea, turning the ocean into a sea of starlight.
Gao Huan momentarily forgot his sorrow, his face flushed with excitement.
“This is the Xihe Flower!” he exclaimed.
“The Xihe Flower and the Fusang tree always exist together, both growing in Tanggu Sea.”
“Xihe blooms by devouring the flames of the Golden Crow. If mortals taste it, they are burned; if small demons partake, they transform into giant demons.”
“Now we finally know where we are!”
“This is Tanggu Sea.”
“Tanggu Sea is the confluence of the human realm, the Underworld, and the Divine Realm. According to legend, the sea spans one and a half million li.”
Someone was skeptical.
“Go ahead and boast—one and a half million li? Does the distance between the Earth and the Moon really equal one and a half million li?”
“The distance between the Earth and the Moon is about 380,000 kilometers. Kilometers, not li,” Cai Yutong said as he finished changing his clothes, putting on his sunglasses and mask, and appeared beside Li Weiyi, interjecting casually.
Gao Huan believed that no one could question his authority in the realm of myth and legend.
“Isn’t one and a half million li astounding? Do you know how vast the world is in which Chixian Divine Land exists?”
“In the Lüshi Chunqiu, it is recorded that within the four extremities, the east and west span 500,000,097 li, and the north and south 500,000,097 li. Your limited vision still clings to mortal thinking. I won’t argue with you.”
“Are we still on Earth? We are now in the underworld, in the ghostly borderlands.”
“Gulp!”
“Gurgle!” …
In the direction of the Fusang tree, the seawater had turned a golden-red color, as if an endless divine flame was burning on the seabed. In the outer sea, the water began to boil, releasing bubbles the size of water jars. Soon, the water mist thickened further, enveloping the bronze ship in a white shroud.
“Crackle—” From deep within the dense fog, a three-legged giant bird burst forth from the seabed in the area where the two divine Fusang trees stood.
The brilliance emanating from its body illuminated the white fog in the vision of the scientific expedition team, casting it in a kaleidoscope of colors.
“That’s a Golden Crow… Look, that is the Golden Crow! So it turns out that the Golden Crow does not roost on the Fusang tree but actually builds its nest in the seabed beneath it,” Gao Huan said excitedly, once again proving he was right.
The records in the mythological classics might have had discrepancies, but they were never entirely off the mark.
“The Golden Crow corpse we saw in the Graveyard Forest seemed to be just a fledgling. Compared to the one soaring into the sky now, it is far too small,” said Li Weiyi.
The Golden Crow that emerged from the seabed had wings like dark clouds covering the sky, likely spanning tens of thousands of li. With one flap, it could create waves as high as ten zhang.
The heat and light that exploded from its body, even after being repelled by the bronze ship’s defensive power, still scorched the eyes and made the skin burn. A researcher, full of curiosity, threw out a steel rebar about the thickness of a thumb.
The rebar flew past the outer defensive barrier of the bronze ship but had not yet fallen to the surface before it was seared red by the overwhelming heat, beginning to melt. Everyone watched in stunned silence. Could it really be this terrifying outside?
The temperature in the air must have reached several thousand degrees—no wonder it was scorching the heavens and boiling the ocean. Was this the power unleashed by the apocalyptic Golden Crow of legend?
After reaching midair, the adult Golden Crow glanced back at the bronze ship sailing on the sea; from it, one could see the corpse of the fledgling on board. Yet it dared not come any closer—the aura from the ship made its soul tremble. That aura, it had never sensed on any living creature in this world before.
It was terrifying! With a powerful wingbeat, the Golden Crow flew upward into the clear blue sky, heading west. Before long, it transformed into a blazing sun dominating the celestial dome. …
On the deck, in that area of the Grave Sea Stone Forest, not far from where the fledgling Golden Crow’s corpse lay, beneath a gravestone, a person dressed in a red palace robe appeared as a pile of white bones, also gazing at the disappearing Golden Crow in the sky.
Her long black hair, silky as if spun from fine fabric, cascaded down to her feet. Even though she was standing casually, she exuded an unmatched aura and majesty. Even as a mere pile of bones, one could imagine the peerless beauty she must have possessed in life.
In the deep-set eye sockets of her skull burned two small, finger-sized flames of spirit. She looked at her bony arms through which delicate strands of blood flowed. Within the bones, vital energy continually arose, whispering, “That guy must be a descendant of the ancient Gu Clan.
Only the blood of that Gu Clan’s offspring can awaken the corpse with a single drop, cause bones to grow flesh, and enable the dead to return from the brink—to restore them to the rightful order of life in the yang realm.”
“Alas, our wedding ritual for ascending the yang was only half completed when he ran away,” the red-robed, bony woman murmured as she looked at Qi Shanshan lying on the ground, unconscious in her grip.
“First, hide my skeletal body within hers, borrow her flesh and life essence to evade the natural law that prevents the reversal of life and death.” …
Ever since the bronze ship sailed through what Gao Huan called the “Tanggu Sea,” the next few days brought day and night on the ocean. Many of the expedition team speculated that countless Golden Crows dwelled on the seabed of Tanggu Sea, transforming into the sun as they flew from east to west, causing day and night in this world.
In truth, no one knew where east ended and west began. Everyone was simply using the old notion of the sun rising in the east and setting in the west to determine direction, assuming that the bronze ship was sailing north. The Fusang tree had long disappeared from view.
The bronze ship seemed to have leaped through space to another ocean, where no terrifying undead souls roamed. There was no wind on the sea, and the surface was as calm and smooth as glass. The water was a strange shade of crimson.
When drawn from a bucket, it looked like fresh blood; even filtering it could not remove the color. No one dared drink it. Of course, only because, for now, no one dared drink…
Since the generator couldn’t be properly repaired, nearly all perishable food had spoiled. Starting yesterday, food and water were strictly rationed—from three meals a day to only one and a half meals a day in an instant. Another day passed.
Occasionally, coffins began appearing on the sea. Their origin was unknown. They traveled in the same direction as the bronze ship, dragging long trails behind them on the calm sea.
This world always exuded a heavy aura of death—neither the Fusang tree nor the Golden Crow could dispel it. The initial “Soul Sea” was like the resting place for the souls of all planets in the universe. Now, this “Blood Sea” appeared to be the final destination for the lifeblood of all beings in the universe.
In the afternoon, a giant bird flew across the sky, hunting in the sea with a resounding cry. Another group of bizarre birds—whose beaks resembled sickles and looked like seagulls—pecked at the drifting coffins on the sea, sharing and feasting on the decayed flesh and bones inside. With signs of life returning, the mood on board greatly improved.
It wasn’t long before everyone forgot the sorrow and fear of a few days ago. Many even speculated that they were not far from the shore. The prospect was exhilarating—once they reached land, survival would be assured.
During these days, except for the area around the tomb of the bone demon, Li Weiyi scoured the bronze ship but could not find any trace of Qi Shanshan.
“Could she have really been eaten by that bone demon?”
Li Weiyi had long suspected as much, because the most dangerous presence on the ship now was indeed that ghostly creature. In any case, he had to investigate.
In his heart, he bore both the desire to repay Qi Shanshan’s kindness by freeing himself from her lingering influence and a sense of foreboding; he was sure that the bone demon would eventually claw its way out of its grave. Rather than sit and wait for death, it was better to proactively eliminate the threat.
But before doing so, he needed to further enhance his own combat strength; he wasn’t willing to recklessly rush to his death. … Monday, please support the monthly ticket.
(The end of this chapter)