“Pathetic.”
Watching the wild joy on Cheng Yi’s face, his deluded belief that he had narrowly escaped death Halecros, the Fire Herald of Perseus, only whispered coldly, without a trace of emotion.
Perseus—the constellation once home to a god named “Perseus.”
In the old epics, he held Medusa’s head in his left hand, with the Bow of Perseus slung over his shoulder just like the Fire Herald now.
And Medusa, the snake-haired monster from legend who could turn life to stone with a glance at her severed head retained immense power even in death.
Snakes writhed tightly around the Fire Herald’s arm, transforming into a pitch-black glove in a burst of light.
He threw a punch, striking Cheng Yi square in the jaw.
Midair, Cheng Yi suddenly felt his body stiffen.
In an instant, every inch of flesh and blood turned to stone.
And then, he shattered in the sky.
The flying shards, still carrying residual magic, shot out with uncanny precision, each fragment effortlessly piercing the remaining pirates.
Those pirates could only stare in horror as they too turned to stone, then exploded.
The fragments burst outward from their cores, and the relentless sound of explosions stretched from the shoreline all the way to the horizon.
And the bard had only thrown one punch from beginning to end.
On the sea, the magnificent treasure ship still floated, and the fleet of over a hundred warships was entirely intact.
But not a single soul remained aboard only rubble and scattered gravel.
“Hard to imagine that this was the enemy we once faced,” the bard murmured, staring at his palm with a complex look, “Even harder to believe that Prince Wu Yi actually won.”
“That was in the past,” Wu Yi said with a faint smile, “Halecros, sing a poem, won’t you?”
“I only write poems. My singing’s awful. Leave that to the pastoral singers.”
“Have some confidence, Halecros. Even the smallest audience is still an audience.”
“…Alright, then.”
The bard plucked his bowstring like a harp.
His plain voice held no brilliance, only the gentle tone of an old comrade reminiscing by your ear.
There were no grand wars or conquests in his poem, only songs of flowers and peace, a melody that brought calm to the heart.
Wu Ma, Lu Sheng, and the surrounding soldiers all fell into a deep sleep within the melody.
Their minds had been too shaken tonight, and this song was both their comfort and… their forgetfulness.
By the time the melody ended, the light of Perseus had vanished beyond the distant sky.
“Kill, wait, what the hell?! Where is everyone?!”
Wu Ma awoke with a jolt.
Spear in hand, he had just been about to strike forward only to discover, with wide eyes, that the enemy forces around him had vanished without a trace.
“What the hell? Where did tens of thousands of pirates go??? And that giant Cheng Yi???”
Wu Ma scratched at the back of his head in confusion, nearly drawing blood.
He couldn’t remember a thing about what had just happened.
The soldiers around him, as well as Lu Sheng, looked just as lost.
“Let’s go. Get on the ship and check.”
They rowed their assault boat toward Cheng Yi’s treasure ship.
Climbing aboard using the gangway.
But there wasn’t a single living soul on the deck, only a layer of plain, unremarkable stone dust, so light that the sea breeze carried it off.
“What the hell is this? Wait a second…”
Wu Ma clutched his head.
It felt familiar, like something similar had happened years ago…
Back when he’d been at death’s door, and in the blink of an eye, all enemies had vanished.
“Don’t tell me… I’ve got some kind of split personality?” Wu Ma’s eyes lit up, “Damn! Am I actually this badass?”
In any case, whatever had happened didn’t matter now.
What mattered was that the hundreds of warships and the treasure-laden flagship were very, very real.
For Bibo City, long lacking any naval power, this was practically a jackpot from the heavens.
“So that Cheng Yi guy was actually a saint,” Lu Sheng mused, stroking his chin. “We executed his son by slow slicing, and he repays us with all his assets, delivered straight to our door.”
Of course, even he didn’t believe what he’d just said.
But how else could they explain what was right in front of them?
“Be cautious—check everything again, and search the entire city while you’re at it,” Wu Yi said, “Cheng Yi was ambitious and cunning. He might be hiding somewhere, waiting to lure the people back and capture them all at once…”
“Miss Trouble-Maker makes a good point.”
Wu Yi held back a laugh and kept making things up: “Caution is always wise, but don’t go overboard. There are endless mysteries in this world. If you try to make sense of everything, you’ll never get anything done~”
“Right,” Lu Sheng nodded, “By the way, we never asked Miss Trouble-Maker for her name.”
Name?
In her Prophet form, she rarely interacted with others.
Even the Fire Heralds referred to her only as “the Prophet.”
So… she had never actually given this form a name…
Crap—naming things is definitely not her strong suit!
“Hm? Is that a difficult question to answer?” Lu Sheng keenly noticed something off.
No good—she had to come up with something fast.
Wu Yi frantically juggled words in her mind, scrambling for combinations, running a mental brainstorm at full speed.
Just then, a bleating sound came from the livestock pen on the treasure ship.
“Wu-mieh. Mm, my name is Wu Mieh,” Wu Yi blurted out, grasping at inspiration in desperation.
“?”
“?”
Lu Sheng and Wu Ma both pictured what it would sound like to call her by that name.
Forget it. Better to just keep calling her Miss Trouble-Maker.
……
Meanwhile, in the southeastern sea, on Temple Island.
Deep within the temple, Kefulu suddenly opened her eyes and withdrew her gaze from Bibo Harbor.
A flicker of dark purple magical light danced in her pupils, filled with excited longing.
Her tendrils twitched and swayed, releasing a sweet scent that filled the entire temple—she could hardly wait.
“So. That’s it. How. It. Is.”