I'm in Mota, and they all want me to confess my feelings!

"I'm very curious, just who... are you?"

Duanmu Yan spread his hands: "As you can see, a genuine ordinary person."

“Ordinary people don’t have the ability to absorb the Black Tide.” Cantrella slowly stood up. “Then let’s go to another place and talk about the next steps.”

……

……

Despite its vast size, Portivino Castle was remarkably quiet.

You can't even hear any background noise.

So quiet that you could say...

Something strange about Izaki Ryuuya was going on.

Cantrell led him through the corridor to a secluded garden.

The place is filled with strangely shaped and brightly colored flowers and plants, all of which Duanmu Yan has never seen before.

He leaned down slightly, examining a bright red plant before him. It resembled an apple, but its dangerous color and markings silently warned: this thing was not edible.

“Be careful,” Cantrela’s voice was soft but carried a warning. “Every plant in this garden contains deadly poison. They are all extremely poisonous things carefully cultivated by the successive heads of the Fesalie family.”

Duanmu Yan's outstretched hand froze in mid-air.

He stared at the fruit, as red as blood, and remained silent for a moment before slowly withdrawing his hand.

"However, if the dosage is appropriate, even highly poisonous substances can be used to save lives."

Duanmu Yan looked at her: "So, Miss Cantrella, can you tell me now? Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Don't rush." ​​She walked gracefully to the pavilion in the garden, sat down elegantly, and said, "Let's sit here and talk slowly."

Duanmu Yan did not refuse, but sat down opposite her.

A plate of fresh, juicy cherries sits in the center of the stone table.

Cantrela gently lifted her slender fingers, picked up a cherry, and with her pink tongue slightly protruding, slowly put the fruit into her mouth and savored it.

"Her tongue is so flexible..."

"I wish the second young lady was this agile."

Tsk, what am I thinking?

Is now the time to pay attention to this?

Whether Cantrela was deliberately teasing her or had noticed Duanmu Yan's little scheme, she deliberately ran her tongue across the corner of her lips, leaving a very seductive, moist mark there.

"Little guest, have you ever heard... the story of the saintess?"

Saint?

Are you talking about Katishia?

"Of course," Duanmu Yan nodded.

“That’s good. That way, I don’t have to repeat myself.” Cantrellella smiled slightly. “But what if I told you that the ‘saints’ of the order aren’t actually true ‘saints’?”

Duanmu Yan was taken aback: "What do you mean?"

Is it okay to say something like this?

Isn't she afraid of being forced to join the monastic community?

“The Fissare family has been the oldest followers of Lord Imbrado since the founding of Lina Xita.”

“Not only Laguna—the entire Lina Xita should have been led by the Lord of the Year toward a future of light and hope.”

"However, all these great achievements were taken away by Leviathan through conspiracy and trickery."

"It wields the power of assimilation and integration, and is a spiritual plague spread through misplaced beliefs and traditions, ultimately devouring civilization."

"It stole everything from the Lord of the Year and usurped the throne to become the Lord of the Year himself. Now it is no longer the same, and the Lord of the Year is no longer the true Lord of the Year."

"For hundreds of years, the people of Laguna have lived in a false faith, unknowingly contributing their efforts to its revival."

Cantrella's tone was so calm that you couldn't hear the clenched knuckles, yet it betrayed her deep-seated hatred for Leviathan.

Duanmu Yan was completely confused.

Although he had long harbored many doubts about the religious order and the so-called Lord of the Year.

But the problem is...

Is this the truth that I can truly hear?

"You mean to say that the true Lord of the Year is dead? And that the one Raguna worships now is not the Lord of the Year, but the Mingshi?"

“Yes and no.” Cantrera shook her head slightly. “The Leviathan has now merged with the Lord of the Year. Although everyone still considers themselves to be followers of Imperado, their faith is actually laying the groundwork for the Leviathan’s arrival in reality.”

Duanmu Yan seemed to be deep in thought, then suddenly realized: "Are you trying to say that the Holy Maiden of the Cult is not chosen by the Lord of the Year, but rather a Resonator chosen by the Ming Cult for itself? Then where is the real Holy Maiden?"

"The true saint?" Cantrera tilted her head slightly, her hair falling over her shoulder. "The true saint is right before you. But the 'true saint' is already dead."

"I don't understand. Could you explain it... without being so riddle-like?"

Cantrell covered her mouth and chuckled.

She got up and walked to the edge of a pool: "In that case, young guest, why don't you... come with me inside and take a look?"

Duanmu Yan arrived at the edge of the pool, gazing at its deep, dark surface: "Go in? Go where?"

Cantrela slowly walked around to his side, her slender fingers gently tracing his shoulder.

"The waves of the deep sea can be very turbulent."

She chuckled softly and moved even closer to him.

A mature woman's natural scent, mingled with a subtle perfume, enveloped Duanmu Yan. The silk fabric of his gown rustled softly against his skin.

Cantres stretched out the tip of her tongue and slowly licked her lower lip, a suggestive gesture.

“We’ve come this far, and even if you want to back out now, I won’t allow it.” She leaned close to his ear, her warm breath brushing against his earlobe. “Relax, once we’re in the deep sea, I’ll hold you tight. Let me see just how many secrets are hidden within this body of yours.”

"I will savor your 'taste' properly for Koleta."

Before the words were even finished, the calm water suddenly surged with towering waves, completely engulfing the two of them.

Volume 1: Chapter 126 Patriarch, are any conditions acceptable? [4K]

It felt like sinking into a bottomless abyss.

Despair, coldness, deathly silence... Indescribable whispers lingered in my ears, like a persistent, incurable disease.

Duanmu Yan instinctively tried to struggle, but in the next moment, the endless darkness in front of him suddenly receded.

Countless frequencies began to intertwine and condense, and the world was reshaped in the blink of an eye—transforming into a familiar place.

Portivino Castle? When did we get back?

"No, another (seven) Bass q$i 4: Ou Lu... This is Sonora's world?"

Duanmu Yan looked around in astonishment.

He remembered this place; this was the hall of Portivino Castle.

Although the furnishings were exactly the same as I remembered, a closer look revealed an inexplicable strangeness.

"This is Sonora, formed from the obsessions of successive heads of the Fesalie family." Cantrela emerged from the shadows, slowly walked to his side, and looked up at the huge statue of the patriarch in the center of the hall. "In a way... perhaps it can be called a hell unique to the Fesalie family."

Obsession? Hell?

Duanmu Yan murmured softly.

Although it wasn't his first time entering Sonora's world, he still couldn't help but feel somewhat bewildered when he heard Cantrella explain the origin of this realm of sound in such a calm tone.

“Do you remember what I told you before?” Cantrela stepped forward slowly, her slender hand rising gently, and a jellyfish shimmering with an eerie light landed gracefully in her palm. “The Fesalie are the first family to worship the Lord of the Year. Our history is even longer than that of the Hidden Sea Order.”

"Unfortunately, in the first war against the Black Tide, the Lord of the Year was corrupted by the Leviathan and lost himself. The Fesalee family was also greatly weakened as a result. Later, the order was established and declared to the world that there had only been one god, Imbrado, in Lina Shita since ancient times."

"Although the first abbot, Nabulgile II, knew the whole truth, the situation was already beyond redemption. Although subsequent abbots succeeded him in secret, Leviathan—it is a spiritual plague that will corrupt your soul. It will whisper lies in your ear a thousand times over—until your heart develops a hole, until you become its puppet, believing everything it says without a doubt."

"At first, it was just the first lie full of flaws... but when the lie was told too many times, it was no longer a lie."

"From then on, the Hidden Sea Order no longer worshipped the true Inberlador, but the defiled true god."

"In order to keep this secret, the former lord of Fesarea had to pretend to reconcile with the order and serve the Lord of the Year together."

“But we never gave up hope, and secretly within the family, we were running for the Holy Maiden—that is, the true Resonator of the Year.”

With a gentle wave of her hand, Cantrella caused the faint light to dissipate into the air like a thin mist.

She turned around, her amethyst-like eyes reflecting his silhouette, her voice tinged with an indescribable melancholy.

Duanmu Yan listened silently.

Although I don't understand why Cantrella would reveal so many secrets to an outsider like me, but...

The hidden expectation in her eyes made him vaguely sense that this noble patriarch needed his help.

"So, Miss Cantrella, you are the true saint? The one... the one who resonates with the Lord?"

"It used to be, but it's not anymore."

"What do you mean?"

Cantrell shook her head: "I lost most of my memories on the day I became a Resonator of the Year."

"But if you are the true saintess, then what about the saintess of the order? Katishia... what is she?"

"Katixia?" Upon hearing this name, Cantrera's purple eyes lit up. How could she know this name? Logically speaking... the world should be more familiar with Freudris.

Duanmu Yan looked directly into her eyes: "If I said that she told me this herself, would you believe me?"

Cantrella moved her lips slightly, the surprise in her eyes vanishing in an instant.

Soon, that composure returned to her face.

She walked slowly closer, leaned forward slightly, and carefully examined his face.

"If someone else had said these words to me, I would probably have thought... that person had gone mad under the influence of the Ming style."

“But it’s you—someone who can devour the Black Tide without being affected.” A faint smile appeared on her lips. “Hmm, I believe you. However, although I’m very curious about how you met her, let’s deal with the problem on our faces first.”

As soon as the words were spoken, the space in front of them suddenly distorted, and the frequencies of the alien matter converged and took shape—transforming into a creation that did not belong to this world, roaring as it pounced towards the two of them.

Duanmu Yan was slightly taken aback, but quickly realized: "What are these? Afterimages? No... they have a frequency similar to the Black Tide."

"This is the remnant born from the obsession of the successive heads of the Fesalie family and the resentment of countless girls who perished in the Saintess Trials, corrupted by the Ming Shi." Cantrela turned gracefully, gently raising her hand, and several luminous jellyfish emerged from the void. "They have been trapped here for too long... Please help them to be free."

Without saying another word, Duanmu Yan's figure shot out like an arrow.

A crystal blade materialized in his hand, flashing with cold light as he broke into the group of Liu Xiangqun.

Wherever the sword touched, those distorted entities crumbled into fragmented frequencies—but instead of dissipating, they condensed into a yellowed piece of paper, which gently floated into his palm.

Duanmu Yan stared blankly, head bowed, barely managing to make out the words on the paper.

Cantrella silently approached him and stood quietly until he finished reading all the words.

"This contains... the contents of the Saintess Trial?" Duanmu Yan's pupils trembled slightly. "You're concocting poison for each other? Why?"

“The Fesari have lived in the whispers of the crescendo for generations. Once their hearts are cracked, they become puppets who have lost their sense of self.”

Cantrell's voice was as calm as a deep pool: "This kind of erosion is incurable; it can only be resisted by an absolutely unyielding will. Therefore, the selection of saintesses by Fesalie—also to ensure the continuation of the truth—requires that each head of the family undergo the tempering of a hundred poisons. Only those who hold fast to themselves on the edge of mental collapse are qualified to lead the family."

"But even so, this can only temporarily slow the erosion of the Whispers. The whispers of Leviathan will follow you like a shadow until your will completely collapses."

"And the succession ceremony of the head of the Fesalie family is that the successor, when the previous head of the family is about to fall, ... personally concocts poison and gives that person on the verge of corruption a long dream from which he will never wake up."

Cantrella lightly stroked her cheek, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on her lips: "Even as I speak to you now, I am still enduring the endless whispers of Leviathan."

Duanmu Yan stared at her, remaining silent for a long time.

He seemed to be beginning to understand what the girl named Rosemary had said to him back at the Rosemary Potion Shop.

"The matriarch is actually a very gentle person."

"How long has this cruel tradition been going on?"

She smiled slightly and spoke in a soft, almost murmured tone, uttering a sentence that was devoid of any bloodshed yet sent chills down one's spine.

"For hundreds of years, in every generation."