Chapter 235: Chapter 233: Pale Moonlight
An endless expanse of white filled Mo Ling’s vision.
For a long while.
When he came back to his senses, the buzzing sound around him was gone. The piercing white slowly faded, and the specks of white light suspended in the air began to drift down...
The foul-smelling mist was gone, and the stuttering images he had been seeing became perfectly smooth.
Once the white curtain receded, his surroundings had completely changed.
Only then did Mo Ling realize he was no longer on the Moon Altar.
’Where am I?’
A sea breeze crept through an iron-barred window and into the oppressive little room. The floor was covered with hay, but it was already damp and starting to stink.
The walls, which seemed to be made of some kind of metal, were covered in mottled stains and rust. The material looked somewhat similar to those strange components from Fishman Island.
Iron bars sealed off the room. Beyond them was a long corridor, and runes high on its walls glowed faintly.
The light was dim and flickered constantly, creating an extremely oppressive atmosphere.
Mo Ling looked at the iron bars before him and suddenly realized something was wrong.
’Am I in prison?’
Looking at the iron-barred window again, Mo Ling finally confirmed that he had been brought to some kind of prison.
Looking himself over, he discovered he had turned back into his Block form.
Curiously, he reached out and grabbed the iron bars. A series of crackles immediately sounded from his hand.
’Electricity?’
Before he could process what was happening, a sudden kick sent Mo Ling sprawling to the ground.
Then, he heard a voice cursing and muttering.
"How’d they manage to catch such a dimwit?"
The voice sounded very familiar.
The electric current hadn’t harmed Mo Ling, and the kick had been perfectly aimed, knocking him right onto the pile of hay.
The man kept muttering, but his curses were punctuated by a few weak coughs.
Mo Ling quickly looked toward the voice, only to discover he knew the person before him.
"Bai Zhou?"
As Mo Ling exclaimed in surprise, a confused voice also sounded from his wristband.
"You know me?" Hearing Mo Ling’s surprised cry, the man stepped out from a dark corner.
He was stooped over, looking curiously at Mo Ling. "How do you know me? Have I met you before?"
The person before him was indeed Bai Zhou, but his getup was a little strange.
He wore ancient-style cloth robes, his hair was disheveled, and his face was covered in scruffy stubble. His iconic diving helmet had vanished without a trace.
Looking at this strangely dressed Bai Zhou, Mo Ling couldn’t help but ask, "Why are you dressed like that?"
This version of Bai Zhou was so bizarre, Mo Ling felt as if he had just escaped from the set of a historical drama.
Hearing Mo Ling’s question, Bai Zhou looked down at his own clothes in confusion.
"I’ve always dressed like this."
With a confused expression, he walked over and squatted down in front of Mo Ling.
"Where did you see me? How come I don’t remember you?" Bai Zhou reached out and tapped Mo Ling’s blocky head. "A race this distinctive... I feel like I would’ve remembered."
He sized up Mo Ling and tentatively asked, "The Square Race?"
"Or the Iron-Head Race?"
"Or..."
Listening to the increasingly bizarre names coming from Bai Zhou’s mouth, Mo Ling couldn’t help but interrupt. "We met at the Black Tower."
"The Black Tower?" To Mo Ling’s surprise, Bai Zhou looked completely baffled upon hearing the name, as if he had no idea what place Mo Ling was talking about.
"I’ve never been there. You must have me confused with someone else." Bai Zhou pondered for a moment but still couldn’t recall anything. "Oh well. Since you know my name, you must have really seen me before."
As he spoke, Bai Zhou’s expression grew forlorn, and a flicker of sadness crossed his eyes. "You must have visited our island, right? You probably saw me back then."
At this, Bai Zhou’s spirits suddenly sank, and he retreated to his corner to sit down.
Still, he didn’t forget to remind Mo Ling:
"Don’t touch those bars again. The Fishman Race electrified them."
Mo Ling quickly looked at his hand and found there wasn’t a single burn mark on it.
"The electricity doesn’t seem to affect me."
Just then, Mo Ling discovered he was also wearing shackles, made of the same strange runic metal from Fishman Island.
"Don’t think about escaping." Seeing Mo Ling studying the shackles, Bai Zhou kindly reminded him, "The Fishman Race won’t give us any food. Try to conserve your energy."
Hearing Bai Zhou’s words, Mo Ling noticed something was off.
’The Fishman Race?’
’Didn’t Bai Zhou think he was a Fishman?’
’Why would he refer to them like that?’
’Has he broken free from the diving helmet’s influence?’
With this in mind, Mo Ling quickly and tentatively asked, "Bai Zhou, what race are you?"
Bai Zhou’s answer surprised Mo Ling:
"Human. We’re called Humans."
He seemed very happy to answer Mo Ling’s question, his words filled with pride.
"We were originally a race from outside the Abyss, but our branch arrived on the 3rd Floor of the Abyss by a twist of fate.
"Humans are very adaptable, so our branch settled down on the 3rd Floor of the Abyss."
Hearing Bai Zhou’s explanation, Mo Ling was stunned.
’Where did this new backstory come from?’
At that moment, Mo Ling couldn’t tell if Bai Zhou’s words were true or false.
"How did you come to the 3rd Floor of the Abyss?" Mo Ling decided to press on.
Bai Zhou didn’t seem hesitant to talk about it. He tilted his head, seemingly considering how to relate this history to Mo Ling.
"You know what an emperor is, right? It’s like a chieftain or a king," Bai Zhou asked.
"I know."
"We were sent by the Emperor..."
And just like that, Bai Zhou began to tell Mo Ling a completely new and even more outlandish "backstory."
...
The story was simple.
"The Emperor was not content. He wanted to live forever."
Back then, after unifying his lands and securing peace for his nation, the human emperor began his quest for immortality.
As he grew old, the emperor became obsessed with the fantasy of "eternal life" for the sake of "eternal rule."
To achieve this dream, he gathered many Alchemists and Alchemy Masters, seeking any and all secrets to eternal life.
After learning of the Immortal Mountains across the sea, the emperor dispatched an expedition of several thousand people. With supplies of grain, clothing, medicine, and farming tools, they set sail in search of the Immortals.
This fleet sailed into the endless ocean, only to encounter a storm the likes of which they had never seen.
Or rather, it wasn’t a storm, but some kind of unknown phenomenon.
The seawater flowed backwards and upwards. A reverse whirlpool drew the ocean into the sky, forming a massive, olive-shaped sphere of water.
The edge of the water sphere shimmered with golden light.
A golden current unfurled from the center of the sphere to the bow of the lead ship, like a welcoming carpet laid out in the most magnificent of ceremonies for the fleet.
The Alchemists of that time all thought it was the work of an Immortal and did not dare to act rashly.
The sphere of water did not press them, but simply hung there motionlessly in the sky.
It was the Alchemists aboard the ships, however, who erupted into a panicked debate:
"It seems the Immortal wants us to approach, doesn’t it?"
"Should we go?"
"Of course we should! Isn’t our quest to find the Immortals? An Immortal has even come out to greet us!"
In the end, not daring to defy the will of an Immortal, the Alchemists steered their ships forward along the golden current.
...until they crossed the current and arrived in a sea they had never seen before...
