Recap
Long Shiyu’s tongue gently soothed the wound, tracing the lines of his palm, his touch lingering over Shen Chaomu’s sensitive fingers. He accepted each drop of blood with a tenderness that sent shivers down Shen Chaomu’s spine.
Long Shiyu’s face was hidden in the shadows, but his golden eyes shone with an intensity that startled Shen Chaomu. He reached out, his fingers tracing Long Shiyu’s cheekbone. Long Shiyu leaned into the touch, nuzzling his palm, his eyelashes brushing against Shen Chaomu’s skin. He continued his ministrations, his golden eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions—anxiety, guilt, and something deeper that Shen Chaomu couldn’t quite decipher.
Their gazes locked, and Shen Chaomu felt a jolt of recognition, a fleeting memory of a similar scene from a distant past. He moved his hand, as if to speak, then hesitated. As if compelled by an unknown force, he gently cupped Long Shiyu’s face.
Long Shiyu’s eyes fluttered closed, his breath warm against Shen Chaomu’s palm. He nuzzled closer, his touch a silent plea.
It wasn’t lust, but something far more profound. A yearning that resonated with a primal force, a connection that transcended words.
Shen Chaomu finally withdrew his hand as if he had been electrocuted.
Long Shiyu moved closer, but was pushed back by him.
Long Shiyu moved closer again, and was pushed back by him again.
Long Shiyu: “Ying.” QAQ
“Explain to me later what’s going on with you and Shen Di. And never do this kind of thing again, you know? What kind of weird habit is this?”
“Oh…”
Shen Chaomu took a deep breath, suppressed his chaotic thoughts, and turned his gaze to the distance again.
There, the Yermak started, and white air rose around it.
It moved again.
…
Yang Zhiming worked furiously in the ravaged engine room. The explosion had wreaked havoc, and under normal circumstances, the icebreaker would be crippled. But Shen Chaomu was right: by overloading the core, they could squeeze out one last burst of power, enough to propel the ship a short distance.
This final surge was reserved for their collision with the bridge. Until then, they relied on a meager trickle of energy and… manpower.
Sailors swarmed the deck, sweat freezing on their skin as they hauled crates of compressed energy to the engine room. Inside the sweltering space, shirtless men shoveled the fuel into the roaring furnace, their bronze skin slick with sweat. Sparks flew, steam hissed, and the air crackled with the combined forces of electricity, fire, and spiritual energy. With this desperate effort, aided by the maritime rescue ships, the Yermak slowly lurched forward.
Their speed was agonizingly slow, unsustainable for long. Even with spiritual support and load-bearing mechs, the sailors were nearing exhaustion.
They were less than a kilometer from the bridge. It would have to be enough.
Captain Alec’s booming voice filled the comms channel, a torrent of curses and urgent commands. Yang Zhiming had grown fond of the gruff captain. Alec had been invaluable during their escape from the waterfall, his only flaw being an unfortunate tendency to crush Yang Zhiming against his impressive chest muscles.
Alec had captained the Yermak for years. He was a legend among the people of Bei En, his hearty laughter echoing through the taverns every night at eight, when the icebreaker returned. Islanders would watch him and his crew stumble into the nearest bar, drinking sea flower wine, gambling, and telling bawdy jokes.
Alec’s presence brought order to the chaos. The sailors worked with a frantic efficiency, their movements precise despite their exhaustion. Hunters fended off the mermaid attacks, their numbers stretched thin due to the lack of time to bring reinforcements from the defense line.
The icebreaker, guided by the commander’s instructions, lurched toward the tilted pillar, its metal still glowing red.
Then, the sea stirred.
Alec, standing at the bow, frowned, his sailor’s instincts screaming a warning. He was proven right a moment later.
Sunlight-colored hair flashed beneath the waves. The girl, her legs fused into a fishtail, was surrounded by a legion of cheering skeletal mermaids. The hunters were caught off guard.
The new signal flares were deployed, their red glow and sonic waves pushing back the mermaids. But the siren raised a pale hand, and with a surge of spiritual power, the mermaids surged forward again.
Grappling hooks caught the railings, and mercenaries in diving exoskeletons swarmed onto the icebreaker.
They stormed the ship, aided by the skeletal mermaid horde. Hunters rushed to intercept them, but the mercenaries were prepared, gaining the upper hand in the initial clash.
Augusta was the first to break through. Shedding his bulky underwater exoskeleton, he was clad in a black combat uniform, the dragon-hunting family crest emblazoned on the back. He licked his chapped lips, vaulting over the railing and landing on the rear deck.
The path to the engine room was clear.
“Princess,” he called out, his voice carrying across the chaos. “You have to thank me for this. Otherwise, they’ll destroy your lair.”
Karen’s melodic voice echoed from the sea, carried by the mermaids. “I will, Mr. Augusta. I’ll make you delicious rose tea.”
Augusta grinned, the arc knife in his hand crackling with lightning-infused spiritual energy. “It’s a deal.”
He advanced, but a wall of muscle blocked his path. Alec, sweat-soaked and steaming, stood before him, wielding a heavy hammer. A powerful aura surrounded him. “My ship doesn’t welcome uninvited guests,” he growled.
Augusta assessed the situation. As a seasoned sailor, Alec possessed formidable spiritual strength, surpassing even that of some hunters. Years of battling the sea had honed his instincts, but the ocean was no longer the sailors’ domain.
He was no match for Alec.
Augusta lunged, his arc knives flashing. Alec blocked the first blow with his hammer, the force of the impact numbing Augusta’s wrist. But Augusta was a skilled fighter. He adjusted his stance, slashing with his left hand while his right released the knife and drew a heavy pistol.
The transition was seamless. He fired, the black muzzle spitting bullets.
Blood splattered.
Alec’s spiritual barrier deflected most of the projectiles, but the first shot pierced his shoulder. He staggered back, narrowly avoiding Augusta’s slashing knife.
Augusta pressed his advantage, his agility and training giving him the edge. Against an ordinary opponent, he would have been like a cat toying with a mouse. But Alec, though injured, was tenacious, refusing to yield.
Augusta tried to bypass him, but Alec was immovable, a stubborn obstacle. Two more blows landed, adding to the captain’s injuries.
Alec gasped, his gray beard stained with blood. His right arm, paralyzed by the lightning, hung uselessly at his side. But his voice remained firm. “Get off my ship,” he rasped.
His movements, honed from years of fighting sea creatures, were frustratingly unpredictable. Augusta clicked his tongue impatiently. He swung his knife again, dodging the hammer, the arc blade aimed at Alec’s abdomen—
A sharp clang echoed through the air. Something deflected his attack.
Augusta’s eyes widened. He leaped back, narrowly avoiding a throwing knife that embedded itself in the deck.
A woman materialized beside Alec, seemingly out of thin air. She wore no combat gear, only a simple outfit that accentuated her lithe form, her long hair tied back with a red ribbon. It was she who had thrown the knife.
Silence emanated from her as she unfurled two fans with a metallic snap. The custom-made weapons were things of beauty, their black and red surfaces resembling butterfly wings. But the delicate edges were ringed with sharpened blades, their lethality amplified by the woman’s potent spiritual energy.
Augusta knew every hunter of note in the association. He recognized this woman, Li Jianchun, and her deadly fighting style, one specifically designed to counter his own.
Li Jianchun moved with a swiftness that defied sound, the deadly edges of her fans a whisper of death. Augusta leaped back, narrowly evading the black and red blur and the flurry of throwing knives that followed. His long knives were useless against this opponent. He discarded them, their lightning-charged blades forcing Li Jianchun back momentarily, then drew a tactical dagger.
But his usual fluidity was gone. Li Jianchun was too fast, her movements a dance of deadly grace as she evaded the crackling energy. She leaped onto the railing, her red sleeves swirling as she spun.
Silent, elegant, a predator disguised as a butterfly.
To be touched by those deceptively beautiful fans was to die.
Augusta’s instincts screamed a warning. His blood ran cold, his pupils narrowed. They clashed, a whirlwind of steel and lightning, the deck scarred by their furious exchange.
“Careful!” Li Jianchun’s voice was a whisper in the chaos.
Augusta instinctively looked toward the source of the sound. A figure stood on a distant ship, her black ponytail whipping in the wind.
Song Qianqian, a heavy sniper rifle in her grasp, smiled coldly.
Go to hell.
The bullet flew, its trajectory a line of death.
Time seemed to slow. Augusta had never felt so close to oblivion. Li Jianchun pressed her attack, her movements perfectly synchronized with the sniper’s aim. He was trapped, his mind a frozen wasteland. He realized, with a sickening clarity, that this wasn’t a coincidence. Shen Chaomu had planned this, anticipating his every move, choosing the perfect counter.
The bullet loomed.
A surge of spiritual energy deflected it.
The siren, surrounded by skeletal mermaids, leaped onto the deck, her magnificent skirt billowing. The mermaids threw themselves between Augusta and Li Jianchun’s deadly fans. This wasn’t part of the plan.
“Go!” Karen yelled, pulling Augusta toward the railing. “Leave the ship!”
They plunged into the churning waves.
…
Ten minutes passed.
Mermaids swarmed beneath them, their pale forms a grotesque tide. Ships retreated hastily. Long Shiyu stood on the bridge, looking down at the roiling sea of bone, the writhing bodies, the grasping claws, the ferocious faces. The siren’s haunting song echoed through the water.
The Yermak, its battered hull a testament to its sacrifice, closed in on the bridge pillar. It was their last hope, the only force the mermaids couldn’t withstand. The heavy icebreaker would crush them, ending this nightmare.
Shen Chaomu stood beside him, windbreaker billowing. The wound on his hand was bandaged, Long Shiyu having insisted on applying multiple layers.
“The siren was on the ship,” Shen Chaomu said. “Now that we’ve confirmed her location, it will be easier.”
“Okay,” Long Shiyu replied.
“You can fly, right? We won’t retreat.”
“Okay.”
Beneath them, the wall of mermaids rose higher, their cries a chilling chorus of desperation. Neither flares nor poison could fully contain them. The siren was making her final stand, pouring all her power into this assault. If she could protect this massive bone nest and the trove of strange beast corpses within it, her army would continue to grow.
She knew that Shen Chaomu and Akasa Mo were the greatest threats. This was her moment of peak power; her illness would soon weaken her.
She had to seize the throne.
Shen Chaomu pulled out a cigarette, then realized he had no lighter. “Light me up,” he said to Long Shiyu.
Long Shiyu obliged, a spark of dragon breath igniting the tip of the cigarette.
Ashes drifted on the wind. “Why do I feel like they’re after you now?” Shen Chaomu mused.
Long Shiyu yawned. “Maybe.”
“Did you steal someone’s food again?”
“No.”
Shen Chaomu narrowed his eyes, grabbing Long Shiyu’s horn and giving it a shake. “Really?”
“It’s bad enough you won’t let me lick your wound,” Long Shiyu grumbled, “now you don’t even trust me.”
Shen Chaomu paused, the memory of Long Shiyu’s intense gaze flashing through his mind. He coughed, pushing the thought away. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll believe you, this time.”
Long Shiyu held out his hand.
“What are you doing?” Shen Chaomu asked.
“I’m not happy. I want to hold hands.”
“We’re about to fight.”
Long Shiyu’s face crumpled.
“Don’t cry, don’t cry.” Shen Chaomu sighed, taking his hand.
Long Shiyu beamed.
They stood together on the towering bridge, facing the encroaching tide of bone, the dark sea stretching endlessly before them.
Golden light flakes erupted, forming a magnificent wall of light that collided with the tide of bone, a terrifying cacophony echoing across the water. The wind whipped their hair.
“Does your wound hurt?” Long Shiyu asked, concern in his voice.
“No,” Shen Chaomu replied, his gaze fixed on the approaching horde.
Long Shiyu gently rubbed the old scar on Shen Chaomu’s palm with his thumb.
As if sensing his guilt, Shen Chaomu chuckled. “Look at us,” he said. “Both injured, both pretending we’re fine. A pair of warriors.”
“Maybe you’re a warrior,” Long Shiyu murmured, “but you’re also my…” The wind snatched the last word away.
The skeletal mermaids pressed their attack, but they faced the youngest genius of the Hunter Association, a scion of the dragon-hunting family. Blazing dragon breath joined the fray, gold and crimson intertwining, flames and light weaving a tapestry of destruction.
The Yermak closed in on the bridge pillar. In the engine room, Yang Zhiming initiated the core overload, then joined the injured Alec on a waiting warship.
The icebreaker surged forward, its old hull groaning with the sudden power. Its red and white paint bore the marks of years of service, a testament to its resilience. It let out a long, mournful horn blast as it charged toward its final destination—not an island, but a towering forest of steel.
It plowed through the mermaid wall, its momentum unstoppable. The impact was deafening. The Damocles Bridge shuddered, its hundred years of service culminating in this final, desperate act.
“She’s a good girl, isn’t she?” Alec murmured, tears in his eyes, as he watched the Yermak.
“Yes,” Yang Zhiming agreed, his voice thick with emotion.
The bridge deck buckled, the mermaids thrown into disarray. Long Shiyu and Shen Chaomu lost their footing, plummeting toward the churning sea. At this height, water was as unforgiving as concrete. They fell amidst a rain of star-black iron and the frenzied mermaids, the creatures crushed by the falling debris.
The siren’s song continued, a haunting melody even in defeat.
Long Shiyu wrapped his arms tightly around his princess and unfurled his wings. Silver and iridescent, they sliced through the wind, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the chaos. He didn’t need speed; his wings were edged with a sharpness that effortlessly cut down any mermaid that came too close.
The world spun as they fell. Shen Chaomu looked up at Long Shiyu’s vibrant scales and the determined set of his jaw, the stardust swirling around them like a river, reflecting their faces. It was a terrifying scene, yet strangely beautiful, filled with a defiant pride.
In that moment, Shen Chaomu believed. This truly was a miracle born of the stars.
As they hit the water, a powerful force lifted them, and Long Shiyu skimmed the surface, leaving a trail of displaced water as he flew toward a waiting warship. Behind them, skeletal mermaids crashed into the waves.
The siren’s song faded, like the final lines of a poem.
Long Shiyu landed on the deck, his eyes shining. “Wasn’t I amazing?” he asked, giving Shen Chaomu’s waist a celebratory squeeze.
“Yes,” Shen Chaomu replied, a smile tugging at his lips. “Amazing.”
___
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