Chapter 349: The Fountain of Youth (6)
“Glug, glug…”
After devouring the two mercenaries, the monster in the lake quietly disappeared beneath the water, leaving behind only a trail of bubbles tinged red with blood.
Once they had finished devouring the dead humans and fish, the other monsters left as well. Before long, the surface of the lake returned to tranquility. Only the floating wreckage of the shattered boat silently bore witness to the carnage that had just taken place.
The people they had sent out were dead, and their only boat had sunk.
Those on the shore stared at the deep green lake and fell silent.
Looking at it now, this algae-covered lake was nothing short of a deadly place where the slightest touch meant death. Just looking at it was enough to make one’s blood run cold.
Everly was silent too.
The priest of the Winton tribe had once told her the story of the Winton warrior Gesar. According to the tale, Gesar could not bear to see his people suffer from old age and illness, so he had set out alone on a journey to find the Fountain of Youth. After enduring countless hardships and overcoming one obstacle after another, he finally reached the guardian who protected the stairs. However, because he could not produce the required key, the guardian sent him back.
Although the story contained some fictional elements, it was, by and large, true—or at least the warrior Gesar really had overcome the previous trials and successfully reached the stairs. After all, his subsequent conversation with the guardian of the stairs could be completely corroborated by Orff’s poem.
Hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of years ago, an Indigenous warrior had been capable of overcoming all those hardships and reaching the stairs. Everly had undergone rigorous skill training and had the advantage of modern technology. Could she really be inferior to an Indigenous warrior?
With that thought in mind, Everly had confidently embarked on her journey to find the Fountain of Youth.
She had never expected that she would be stopped by a lake before she had even reached the cave.
Had the warrior Gesar encountered this forest and lake back then as well? How had he managed to cross this vast lake?
Everly racked her brain for a solution, while Grant and the others on the lakeshore were doing the same.
Through the binoculars, she saw Grant lean toward the shaman and say something to her. The two clearly disagreed. The shaman looked extremely reluctant and argued with Grant unhappily.
Grant remained unmoved. He glanced at Savannie, his girlfriend, standing beside him, immediately understood the signal and snapped her fingers at the shaman.
The very next second, the beaded necklace around the shaman’s neck twisted and transformed in full view of everyone. It became several loops of thorns, each one covered in spikes as thick as a finger, which wrapped tightly around the shaman’s neck.
The thorns’ sharp points were aimed directly at the arteries in the shaman’s neck. All it would take was a slight tightening to kill her.
It was an unmistakable show of force.
With her life on the line, the shaman no longer dared to refuse. She hurriedly nodded at Grant.
Even after receiving her agreement, Savannie still did not immediately release the thorns around the shaman’s neck.
The shaman was furious but did not dare say a word. With the thorny coils still pressing against her neck, she awkwardly took several bottles and jars, along with a completely black dagger, from her backpack.
Then, under the protection of the mercenaries and Grant’s group, the shaman arranged thirteen oil lamps in a circle and lit them one by one. She stood inside the circle, holding a bundle made of feathers, dried grass, and the hair of some unknown creature. With one hand, she swept the bundle over the flames, while with the other, she added different crushed herbs to the lamp oil. Her lips moved continuously as she muttered words under her breath.
Dense clouds of pungent white smoke rose from the oil lamps. Amid the swirling smoke, the shaman danced and gestured wildly, looking like a ghost drifting in from another world.
The strange and lengthy ritual lasted a full ten minutes.
Throughout it, Everly worried that they were running out of time and kept checking her watch and the sky.
Nearly an hour and a half had passed since they set out.
Based on the time ratio between the outside world and the island that they had calculated earlier, the transit of Venus outside should have progressed about three-quarters of the way and been nearing its end. Yet when Everly looked up at the sun, the tiny black dot representing Venus had only moved about a quarter of the way from its starting point.
The starting point, not the endpoint. Everly was certain she had not misread it.
But if that was the case, then the flow of time inside and outside the island should have been synchronized—which contradicted everything Everly had observed.
The strange and chaotic discrepancy in time left Everly somewhat bewildered.
Still, if Venus really was moving this “slowly,” then she would have more time to search for the treasure and wouldn’t need to finish everything within the two-hour window she had initially anticipated.
Hopefully, things really would unfold the way she was hoping…
As Everly pondered this, the ritual on the lakeshore was already nearing its end.
With the shaman’s final dance movement, all thirteen oil lamps went out simultaneously.
The shaman looked as though all her strength had been drained from her. Sweating profusely and barely able to keep her footing, she made her way to the thirteen oil lamps and carefully gathered the ashes into a wooden bowl decorated with strange totems.
Once all thirteen portions of ash had been collected, she placed the bowl on the ground and took out the black dagger.
What followed was a bloodletting ritual. The shaman used her own blood as an offering, letting it drip into the wooden bowl.
As the ritual continued, the vitality and strength seemed to drain from her body along with the blood. Her once young and beautiful face gradually aged, and her smooth, supple skin became loose and wrinkled.
In barely any time at all, the shaman, who had originally been under thirty, had transformed into a white-haired old woman with a face full of wrinkles.
Even then, she continued the ritual until the blood in the bowl reached the required level. Only then did she finally stop.
She brought her fingers together and passed them over her wrist. Wherever her fingertips touched, the wound closed almost instantly, though the shaman’s already pale face became even paler.
At this point in the ritual, she turned her head and cast a venomous look at Savannie. Savannie understood immediately and snapped her fingers, causing the thorns around the shaman’s neck to disappear.
Only then did the shaman proceed to the next step.
She refused the help of the others, bent her hunched back, and carefully picked up the bowl from the ground. Then, trembling with each step, she walked to the water’s edge and poured the mixture of ashes and blood into the lake.
“Splash… splash, splash!”
The monsters lurking beneath the lake instantly grew restless at the smell of blood. Countless enormous shadows rushed toward the shore, churning the water into a frenzy.
But when they entered the area “contaminated” by the blood and came into contact with the crimson threads diffusing through the water, their fierce competition and collisions abruptly stopped.
It was as though someone had forcibly pressed a pause button. Amid the previously turbulent and boisterous lake, a silent, motionless vacuum appeared.
Monster fish came pouring in from all directions, drawn into the motionless area. Before long, the area was packed to the brim with monsters of every kind.
By then, the blood in the lake had become so diluted that it was barely visible to the naked eye.
The shaman moved.
Standing at the lakeshore, she casually waved a hand toward the water.
Like a ruthless commander issuing orders on a battlefield, the creatures in the motionless area obeyed the shaman’s will and sprang into action.
The two largest monster fish rose toward the surface and approached the shore. The remaining monsters turned around, pointing their heads toward the monster fish and shrimp gathering around the perimeter. They whipped their tails and charged toward them in perfect unison.
When the two groups collided, they immediately began tearing into one another with savage ferocity, turning the outer perimeter into a violent battlefield of blood and flesh.
Meanwhile, at the lakeshore, the two colossal creatures had already arrived like a pair of ocean liners, their heads and backs protruding above the water as they came to a steady stop in front of Grant and the others.
By now, the shaman could no longer stand on her own strength.
She was panting heavily, sprawled across the back of a mercenary who carried her as he climbed onto the back of one of the giant fish first.
Grant and Savannie followed close behind, joining three other mercenaries on the same fish. The remaining six mercenaries climbed onto the back and head of the other fish.
Once everyone was in position, the shaman weakly waved her hand.
The two giant fish swished their tails and, one after the other, skirted around the battlefield that had become a living meat grinder. Carrying the humans on their backs, they swam smoothly and swiftly toward Pudding Mountain ahead.
The journey went remarkably smoothly.
The bloody battle along the lakeshore had drawn all the nearby monsters toward it. As the two fish swam onward, they encountered virtually no enemies worth worrying about.
About three minutes later, Grant and the other twelve people reached the shore safely and entered the cave on Pudding Mountain one after another.
Everly waited until the last of them had disappeared into the cave before spitting out the chameleon skull and emerging from her hiding place.
By then, the fierce battle in the lake was still raging.
Those bizarre creatures, far beyond the limits of anything humans could imagine, were charging wildly through the water. You attacked me, I tore into you—until both sides were covered in wounds. Flying scraps of flesh acted like bait, scattering into the water and attracting even more monsters to join the fray.
Once this battle had begun, there was no way it would end anytime soon.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Everly silently made her way to a section of the lakeshore far from the battlefield. She focused her mental power and attempted to manipulate the lake before her, just as she had communicated with and controlled the ocean.
She had been wondering about this earlier. If the monsters living in the lake, like the creatures in the forest, were all prehistoric species, then there was no doubt that their natural habitat should have been the ocean.
When a saltwater lake becomes infinitely vast, it is a sea; when a sea is compressed infinitely small, it becomes a lake.
Could she succeed?
Could she, blessed by the mythical creatures worshipped by humankind, receive a response from this miniature primordial ocean?
From a distance of barely a few meters, Everly extended her mental power and quickly sensed a rhythm that was both familiar and strange.
Thump! Thump!
The instant her consciousness touched another ancient will, the algae-covered dark-green surface of the lake began rippling without a breeze, beautiful waves spreading across the water.
At the same time, along the lakeshore more than ten meters away, the agitated aquatic creatures all stopped fighting in unison. The bloodlust in their eyes abruptly cleared.
One after another, they turned their battered bodies toward the human standing on the shore.
Their vigorous fighting spirit vanished. Within their ignorant, chaotic minds, something entirely new quietly emerged—a sense of familiarity and curiosity.
They wanted to approach her.
They wanted to go to her side, to examine her closely, to bring her the most delicious aquatic plants and meat, to fulfill her wishes, to…
The lake was responding to Everly.
Unlike her experience with the modern ocean, the response did not come smoothly. It was as though a radio had not been tuned to the correct frequency, and the signal was filled with considerable static.
Even so, the lake—and the countless prehistoric creatures living within it—continued to draw closer to her, embracing her and clumsily yet earnestly conveying their affection and goodwill.
They came to her side, joyfully and eagerly surfacing to greet her and surround her, lowering their once-defiant heads before her.
They were willing to be driven by her. They were willing to give everything for her.
Because they loved her.
Because she was the one loved by the ocean.