Tianjin people will never lose SAN

Chapter 316: The Earthly Preacher and His Trap
"Didn't Xiaohu mention the horn yesterday? Look here, and here too."

Milly Tang pointed at the albums on the table. These files came from three navigation reports. Some broken utensils and incomplete stone slabs were salvaged from ocean-going ships sailing on the edge of the Lost Sea.

There were trumpets appearing on the blurry patterns above. Liu Yonglu glanced at the time on the cover. One of the three reports was from three years ago, and the other two were from more than ten or even dozens of years ago.

The horn pattern on the album is particularly blurry and most of the color has faded, but judging from these three files, it is indeed possible that it is the same thing.

"But... it's useless. These files are backup files of our investigation department. That is to say, the original files and the things salvaged are all stored somewhere else."

Liu Yonglu carefully looked at the details of the file, which were all provided by some ocean shipping companies:
"Assuming there is a lost civilization in the Lost Sea, some of this civilization's...symbols may be related to the horn. It would be best if we could find a book related to this civilization."

After saying this, Liu Yonglu walked to the bookshelf, found an index and quickly searched through it. He searched for half an hour, but couldn't find anything. He had tried all kinds of keywords, but couldn't find any useful books.

Dejected, he returned to his desk.

"What did Kougan say to you just now? Or did you..." Milly Tang poked her head: "Your head is not well yet? You are so serious all of a sudden."

Liu Yonglu was unusually serious, and Millie Tang was a little uncomfortable with it.

"Hey, about what happened yesterday... I'm so sorry. I haven't thanked you yet."

What Liu Yonglu said was from his heart. He couldn't make a decision for Mi Li'er at the dinner table yesterday and didn't dare to say a word. Ling'er wanted to take Xiaohu away, and Liu Yonglu couldn't bear to let her go. Plus, Xiaohu didn't want to leave for some unknown reason. If he could make the decision, he would definitely keep Xiaohu.

But the conditions were given to Mi Li'er, in exchange for lifting the witch's curse.

Fortunately, Millie Tang did not agree. Liu Yonglu thought that since Ling'er wanted the horn in the Lost Sea, could he think of a way to find the horn before her, or at least find clues related to the horn, and use this as a condition to exchange for the method to lift the witch's curse.

After Liu Yonglu finished speaking, Millie Tang was stunned. She didn't sleep well last night. All she kept thinking about was what Ling'er said at the dining table.

What happened to me? If it were in the past, I would have turned hostile and helped Ling'er catch Xiaohu, but at that time, I felt an inexplicable emotion surging in my heart.

That emotion told me that I must never hand Xiaohu over.

"No need to thank me, I...I just don't like that little girl, it has nothing to do with you."

Mi Li'er puffed up his cheeks:
“No need to look for it in the library. I’ve already looked it up. There are no books in the library that cover the deeper secrets of the Lost Sea.

Otherwise, we can talk to the chief and ask him to give us a higher level of authority. Otherwise, we can go directly to the second underground floor and ask Farrell.

Of course, there is another way.”

Millie Tang pointed to the salvage site mentioned in the atlas:

"Prince Herama may know something. You see, the place where these utensils and stone tablets were salvaged is not far from Kurt. I guess they have clues related to the Lost Sea.

Just be careful when asking, and don't let him feel that we are interested in the horn."

……

At the same time, in New Nulund, Prince Herama sat in a carriage, playing with a palm-sized metal statue in his hand. The statue was in human form, a half-length portrait of a young and handsome man. Judging from the facial features, he was from the Western Continent. If you didn't know, you would think it was a sculpture by an artist.

"Your Highness, would you like us to bring the boat over to accompany you?"

Balkan, who was sitting opposite, asked worriedly.

“No, it won’t do Wordsworth any good to break up with me. Besides, you just need to follow me. The god that Wordsworth relies on... seems a little weak.

This meeting is also the last time we deal with Wordsworth. Hum, we probably won’t meet again in the future.”

Herama was disdainful in his heart. He had just gone to Canary Wharf to find Wordsworth to get the ancient relics. In the next two days, he planned to contact the people from the Holy Maiden Sect to complete the transaction in case anything goes wrong.

But as soon as I arrived at Canary Wharf, I saw a large number of sheriffs and investigators.

Fortunately, Balkan was alert enough not to rush in, but just pretended to be a horse-drawn carriage passing by on a picnic, without slowing down or stopping at all.

It seems that Wordsworth did something terrible again last night, but this time he was caught by someone and his lair was destroyed.

The carriage had traveled for a distance when a farmer herding sheep stopped the team and quietly handed them a letter.

It turned out that Painter's Hat was also very cautious. When he saw that White did not return to the cabin at the agreed time, he knew something was wrong, so he quickly notified Wordsworth to move to another location by taking the cargo ship docked at the pier.

……

In the endless sea, Wordsworth knelt at the bottom of the cabin. There was no believer around him, only him and the strange statue.

Once upon a time, I was hiding in the river valley of Seven County, enjoying the affluent life of a noble lord. What made me change and sell my property to come to New Newrent early to make plans?

As soon as this idea came to his mind, Wordsworth looked nervously at the statue in the dark. God the Father knew everything. He was different from other gods. He cared about the feelings of his believers and was willing to share knowledge. Yes, share knowledge. That night, he suddenly received a revelation from God the Father.

In the Endless Sea, there is ancient knowledge hidden. That knowledge flows in the brain like honey on the tip of the tongue. All worldly desires combined may not be able to compare to it in the slightest.

But... can I get that?
The successive setbacks shook Wordsworth's confidence. He was just a mortal. No matter how strong and ruthless he pretended to be under the protection of God the Father, he would be tortured by the frustration of repeated failures and unable to sleep.

"Kaka...ka..."

The sound of cracking echoed in the dark cabin. Wordsworth suddenly woke up and began to crawl on the ground, repeatedly banging his forehead on the board.

What happened to me? Suddenly... I showed such a fragile and ungodly side in front of Father God.

He didn't dare look up, for he could feel a huge and slimy body struggling to get out of the statue, and he heard the sound of wet tentacles rubbing against the planks.

Wordsworth emptied his mind as much as possible, waiting for the rebuke from God the Father.

Only this time, no images flashed through his mind, but his limbs felt a strange sense of being wrapped, as if something was gently tied to him.

First it was the limbs, then the torso, and finally the entire head.

Wordsworth felt like he was about to suffocate. The slimy tissue seemed to have no bones and extended along all the holes in his head towards his deeper internal organs.

The body's organs instinctively reject these foreign intruders, and gastric juice, saliva, and tears surge out.

Was he going to die? After hearing the voice of the Father God freeing himself from the statue, Wordsworth was mentally prepared for the suffering punishment that would follow.

But he never thought that he would die. At a certain critical point of pain, the world suddenly became quiet, and his spirit was released again in the silence.

Wandering in the universe, perhaps this is what it means to be wandering in the universe. Wordsworth stuck his head out from the nearly solid sticky water surface and saw the endless Milky Way with planets of all sizes scattered all over the place. Why could he see all this?
He lowered his head and looked at his body. It was so bloated and huge, so magnificent that it was difficult to describe in words.

Did the Father give him more power? Or was he entrusted with an important task and sent to another place?

No matter what, they escaped from the inhuman torture just now. Wordsworth wanted to let out a hearty roar from the soul, but he was tongue-tied and no sound echoed in his ears.

Am I dumb? Or...

Then the sound of rustling footsteps came from the surface. He did not lose his voice, but his voice had transcended the dimension that humans could capture.

On the ground of the planet, groups of strangely shaped insects are responding to his call.

The Lost Sea, that endless place, the horn that can awaken the essence of stupidity is still sleeping. Get it before all existence, and your most primitive predatory desire and the purest curiosity for knowledge can be satisfied.

Wordsworth discovered that another voice in his body was shouting loudly, and the fanatical preaching made the insects under his feet ecstatic. They bowed down in worship, as if they were very familiar with that voice, as if their former master appeared before their eyes again.

After merging into his body, Wordsworth understood that God the Father had poured a portion of his divinity into his body. From today on, he no longer had to crawl humbly in front of the statue waiting for charity. He had become a preacher on the green and decaying earth.

"Bang bang bang."

"Mr. Wordsworth, Prince Herama is here. Would you like to see him?"

There was a knock on the door and Alva's urging voice. The next second, the door was pushed open and the light from the corridor shone into the room.

When Wordsworth looked up again, he found that the statue was still the same statue, without any change. His limbs were not wrapped by any foreign objects and they were moving as before. Everything was like a dream that had never happened and yet had become reality.

"Mr. Wordsworth, if it is inconvenient for you now, I can give the three ancient relics to Prince Herama."

Painter Hat knew the purpose of Herama's visit.

"No, give him two of them, the shroud and the bone-reinforcing rope, and put the other one back in the warehouse. I will choose another one to replace it."

"Okay," Painter's Hat turned and left, while Wordsworth remained kneeling on the ground.

He suddenly bent over and began to vomit violently, with turbid gastric juice spilling onto the deck.

"Snapped!"

Also falling was a milky white stone with honeycomb-like holes.

Hey, happy weekend everyone.

The temperature has dropped very quickly recently, so please keep warm.

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(End of this chapter)