Lindong lay on Ethan’s head, silently reciting the name.
This was the clue Kane left them before he departed.
Ethan: "Have you heard of Him?"
"During the Dream Eclipse, Sincaro was an Evil God with as many followers as Old Ba. Unlike bloody sacrifices, Sincaro’s followers preferred using conspiracies to achieve their goals. Their reputation during the Dream Eclipse was not good, always treating others as pawns."
But usually, cooperation with Sincaro’s followers could achieve the goals of both parties. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novèlfire.net
"There are also many people willing to be manipulated by Sincaro’s followers, often simplifying matters."
The only issue to resolve is personal emotional adjustment, "However, I have never heard of the Hydra."
Kane’s letter left Lindong feeling somewhat uneasy.
She was very certain that the woman named Echo was already dead, her body severed into two, and even her magic power had long dissipated. Yet Kane described her as one of the Hydra’s heads.
In the legends of the Hydra, if you cannot sever all its heads at once, it can regrow those heads.
However, this also solved the doubts in Lindong’s heart.
As Flor’s deputy, Echo died too easily, without even putting up any resistance, calmly accepting her death.
It seems that back in the imperial capital, she’ll need to inquire with Rowena about the Dream Eclipse.
They put Kane’s letter into their pack, and the group entered a fork in the underground research facility, where damaged excavation tools lay toppled on both sides of the path. Yue, at the front of the group, suddenly quickened his pace, having heard a call.
The sound of water flowed from the other side of the wall.
Streams on either side of the altar led along a winding path to the majestic stone sculptures.
An inscription on the stone tablet in front of the statue recounted the story of Aelium.
Through the dense text, he saw more, with flashing scenes appearing before his eyes, as if he became the protagonist of those fragments.
From the time he built the first ship to facing the final council, making that difficult decision.
This was a history that had been covered up.
People on the Western Continent today did not know of Aelium’s existence, and records of the flood had become blurred. In even more distant places, Aelium was regarded as an Evil God by sailors.
People judged it as evil based on its description.
Yue understood the source of their anger, and what followed was a strong sense of guilt, an emotion not originating from himself, but from some faraway existence left here.
This is why they came here.
For a long time, the Deep Sea Council endeavored to conceal the existence of Divine Spirits, a salvation path marked by the Master of Tides.
Is this truly out of pure rational consideration?
Yue raised a question.
If one were to gauge that great existence with human standards, perhaps it might be easier to bury this guilt.
Just as the Imperial Church fascinated those obsessed with the Holy Word Art, it was the simplest approach.
Yue wiped the ink from his face, the octopus hat on his head seemingly awaiting his decision.
He should either write a book or pass a few bills through the council, abolishing those outdated prohibitions and revealing the truth to everyone.
But that would be too slow.
And even if he did, not many would believe these bizarre tales.
The initial Deep Sea Council also imprinted the "steel seal" on every Western Continent person’s heart through the efforts of generations of chairmen.
Yue saw the clock deeper within the altar, and almost instantly understood its significance.
He approached the clock, placing his hand on its cold surface.
A voice deep within his heart summoned him, dominating his body.
It seemed like another person had made the decision.
Yue heard the chime, as if it were the only sound left in this world at that moment.
Not only him, everyone heard it.
People in every corner of the Western Continent heard this sudden chime.
The chime drowned out some subtle sounds.
It was the "crackling" sound of something like electricity sweeping over them.
Soon after, those ancient memories buried by history flooded into them.
They saw a bustling port, people assembled together, watching a young man carrying planks across the pier.
The young man was bare-chested, sweating profusely.
He spoke grand words.
Sooner or later, he would conquer this vast sea.
This is a story of a hero and the sea.