Chapter 127
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Chapter 127: Title
Just as they believed communication with the totem warriors might be possible, the warriors abruptly brandished their weapons.
The Ghost in Red had been vigilantly observing their motions. At the first sign of hostility, the tiny bell on her wrist chimed with crystalline clarity.
All movement among the totem warriors froze instantaneously.
"Retreat immediately beyond five hundred meters," commanded the Ghost in Red, remaining stationary while directing others to withdraw.
The group retreated with military precision. Composed mostly of professional soldiers, even the civilians recognized the necessity of coordinated withdrawal during crises.
"Senior in Red, what of yourself?"
"The stasis lasts mere minutes. I’ll overtake you," she replied with calculated calm. Being the most formidable among them, serving as rear guard was logical – particularly fitting given her role as their protector.
Qiao Feiyu and Yang Xingyu exchanged troubled glances but acknowledged her wisdom. Jaw muscles tensing, they retreated along their original path.
Alone now, the Ghost in Red’s posture softened imperceptibly.
Her mind tracked the fleeting seconds. The bronze bell – once palm-sized, now thumbnail-diminutive on its cord – pulsed faintly against her wrist. Centuries underground had stripped its gilded veneer, revealing primordial bronze that whispered of forgotten eras. A relic from vanished hands, its companion through aeons of slumber.
Bell endures; comrades fade.
At ten-second countdown, she sprang vertically, foot grazing bark as she arced through the canopy. By the time the warriors shook off paralysis, only rustling leaves witnessed her escape.
Their enraged roars pursued empty air.
Three minutes sufficed even for ordinary people to cross half a kilometer – let alone Practitioners and extraordinary individuals. The group had wisely exceeded the minimum distance.
Passing the five-hundred-meter threshold, the Ghost in Red felt metaphysical chains dissolve from her spirit. This jungle’s secrets ran deeper than imagined.
Withdrawing talismans from her sleeve (crude charms from Leng Xingwen, yet serviceable), she charged them with spiritual energy and embedded them along the retreat path. Let the pursuers enjoy minor inconveniences.
…
Before a liquid-silver mirror, Ye Linlang observed the jungle drama while reclining on damask cushions. Steam curled from her teacup as the water mirror displayed fleeing figures and roaring warriors.
"Not unimpressive, these totem deities," she mused to the vacant chamber. "System, compile deity analytics."
[By your will, Mistress.]
【Currently, there are thirty-six totem deities, with seventeen perished and seven still incubating, totaling sixty.】
Ye Linlang knew without calculation that Ghost in Red and her companions stood no chance against this tribe’s totem deities. Their forced retreat from totem warriors only confirmed her judgment.
With a mental command, the water mirror’s vision shifted to another jungle clearing where a solitary figure stood.
"Seki."
"Still coveting divine essence from totem deities? It seems Lilith’s discipline proved insufficient." Ye Linlang murmured, brows knitting briefly before smoothing.
Perhaps such easily manipulated deities deserved their fate if vulnerable to Seki’s schemes. Dismissing the thought, she waved her hand to alter the projection again.
A colossal screen materialized, spanning six meters and partitioned into five shifting quadrants that cycled through continental vistas. Snapping her fingers, Ye Linlang summoned plans documenting global developments:
Zhongxia dominated her Asian focus – not merely from patriotism, but through its disciplined fusion of ancient Practitioners and Awakened individuals navigating the Spiritual Energy Awakening with characteristic order.
Europe’s demon web now enveloped the Kingdom of England and beyond, its existence undeniable. Wizards, inspired by Eastern academies, were establishing tangible schools as magical revelations proliferated.
Africa’s struggling nations found totem deities proliferating where education failed. These once-dormant entities now transitioned from mental intrusions to physical manifestations through desperate worship.
Though the Holy See maintained Western strongholds, its African foothold remained weaker than local sects. As spiritual energies intensified, deity-less faiths risked both external ridicule and internal collapse.
America’s landscape featured Light-worshippers and disproportionately numerous Awakened individuals – a deliberate counterbalance to Eastern strengths.
Australia’s history unfolded in her documents: indigenous roots, seventeenth-century colonization by European powers, eventual Commonwealth formation, and 1930s independence. Its current Awakened majority and Holy Light Church followers left mythic foundations unstable – a situation Ye Linlang chose to disregard.
Tapping her armrest, the water mirror obeyed her unspoken command, projecting azure waters. "System, rewind to Atlantis’s crisis," she ordered.
The seascape reversed – clouds recoiling, rains ascending – until freezing at the critical moment when cerulean brilliance pierced the Atlantic.
…
That day, witnesses to the seaborn light pillar required no confirmation of Atlantis’s existence. When reality itself admitted Spiritual Energy’s resurgence, why question ancient myths made manifest?
The beam’s cosmic trajectory betrayed the sunken continent’s coordinates. World powers connected America’s recent Atlantic deployments with this luminous revelation – their overlapping positions too precise for coincidence.
Soon, international vessels converged where America’s carriers had loitered for months. Zhongxia mobilized too, deploying an idle aircraft carrier from its twenty-year naval expansion. Unlike America’s globe-policing fleets, Zhongxia’s vessels typically reserved themselves for coastal defense.
Yet international waters permitted this exercise in maritime presence. "If they parade their carriers freely, why shouldn’t we?" became the unspoken rationale as the Special Bureau’s team boarded.
Bai Ye stood on deck, cropped hair fluttering as sea breeze whipped his shirt. The intern’s approach interrupted his contemplation of Li Canghai and Chen Qingfeng’s murmured Taoist discourse.
"Mr. Bai? Water?"
Accepting the cup with concealed amusement at the novice’s nervous tic, he nodded. "Appreciated."
