Chapter 87
The storm raged across the sea, howling like a feral beast. Waves surged and roared, crashing against the shore, toppling trees, and destroying ships. Flashes of lightning tore through the dark clouds like serpents of purple and white.
It was a scene of nature’s wrath, as if a calamity had descended.
In the midst of the storm, Wen Xin’s whaling ship swayed violently but seemed to be held by an unseen hand, miraculously avoiding capsizing as it had before.
From his position, Wen Xin clearly saw a waterspout-like wave manipulated by a mysterious force. The enormous torrent morphed into a gigantic whip, lashing a helicopter out of the sky.
The blades shattered, scattering debris into the ocean below. From the sky came the panicked screams of militants as they plummeted into the sea.
In the waters below, shadows awaited in droves.
Thrashing arms slapped at the water’s surface as men struggled to stay afloat, only to be dragged under by the shadows’ sharp teeth.
Soon, the frothing white waves were stained crimson.
The remaining helicopters, sensing the danger, tried to retreat hastily.
But it was futile.
The towering waterspouts homed in on them with unerring accuracy, striking them down one by one. The hardened metal shells of the helicopters were as fragile as paper, torn apart, crushed, and scattered in mere moments.
Wen Xin heard the roar of the storm as it pounded the cliffs.
He then saw that even the armored vehicles climbing the hills and the soldiers stationed there were not spared.
Lightning wreaked havoc in the skies above as the sea, consumed with rage, raised a tsunami over twenty meters tall, a black wall of water that engulfed all the invaders before retreating, sparing the nearby buildings from its wrath.
This was the last thing Wen Xin saw before he lost consciousness.
He witnessed the overturning of heaven and earth, searing the sight into his mind forever.
Time passed, and Wen Xin slowly regained consciousness.
He moved his hand and felt something soft and slightly damp nearby.
The cool and smooth sensation soothed the heat within him, reminding him of a water pouch clutched on a summer day.
Instinctively, he stroked it twice more, only for the thing beneath his hand to twitch.
It was alive!
Wen Xin’s eyes shot open.
A fuzzy, sky-blue face greeted him.
Large, pitch-black eyes, glistening with a misty sheen, stared back. The tiny nose twitched, while two small black dots formed its eyebrows. From either side of its mouth protruded slender tusks, just long enough to reach its chin.
It resembled a baby walrus, though its face bore a striking resemblance to a harp seal. It was so irresistibly cute it looked as though it had stepped straight out of a fairy tale.
Noticing that Wen Xin had awoken, the little blue creature immediately leaned closer, opening its tiny mouth to reveal a pink tongue as it attempted to lick his forehead.
Wen Xin was utterly defenseless against such a small, adorable creature. Moreover, there was an inexplicable sense of familiarity about it. In his brief distraction, the little one managed to lick him several times.
The burning heat within his body subsided once again, and the discomfort reduced to almost nothing.
Realizing what had just happened, Wen Xin gently patted its head in gratitude. “Are you helping me? Thank you.”
The baby walrus tilted its head, puzzled that the young man hadn’t immediately recognized it.
Sitting up, Wen Xin glanced around, his expression quickly shifting to one of surprise.
He found himself underwater, at the edge of a shallow seabed.
Contrary to the raging tsunami he remembered before losing consciousness, the aquamarine waters were now tranquil. The sound of gentle waves lapped at his ears.
The dark clouds in the sky had scattered, revealing warm sunlight. Golden threads of light shimmered on the undulating sea surface, dancing with the ebb and flow of the waves.
Beneath him, the sand was milky white and soft to the touch, dotted with small, bubbling streams. Brightly colored coral stood proudly nearby.
Several vibrant, multicolored fish darted around Wen Xin, oblivious to the giant among them, carefree and unbothered.
Instinctively, Wen Xin clutched at his throat. “I can breathe normally?”
Not only could he breathe, but he could speak and even sense the rhythm of the ocean around him.
Although he had seen extraordinary things before, the sheer wonder of this left him awestruck.
“Right, Ah Lü and San San—where are they?”
“They’re above,” came a voice from behind him.
Wen Xin spun around quickly. The baby walrus let out a soft grunt before continuing. “They can’t stay in the sea for too long. You, however, swallowed the pearl and need to adjust to the ocean, or you’ll feel very unwell.”
“Don’t worry,” it said, flapping its fins and moving closer to nuzzle his cheek. “They’re worried about you and haven’t left. You’ll see them as soon as you go up.”
In those few moments, Wen Xin suddenly realized where the sense of familiarity had come from.
Tentatively, he asked, “Lan Tuan?”
The baby walrus rolled its eyes playfully, its gaze lighting up with joy. It then nuzzled his forehead again, letting out a soft, childlike sound: “Gulu gulu.”
You’re always so perceptive. I’ll forgive you for not recognizing me immediately.
Wen Xin felt an indescribable mix of emotions as it rubbed its head against his. He was elated yet amused by how readily Lan Tuan admitted its identity, without a hint of hesitation.
The only way to sum it up was pure joy.
It was like spotting an unexpected burst of fireworks in a lonely, dark night.
Naturally, Wen Xin scooped the little creature into his arms, scratching under its chin as he playfully complained, “Only you and Xiao Hei are honest with me. The others are all so secretive—they won’t even let me see their true forms yet.”
The baby walrus, once disguised as a blue cat, had been Wen Xin’s companion. Its true form, a rare and protected creature, often caused a stir whenever it appeared. Seeing Wen Xin accept its feline guise so easily, it had grown lazy and stayed in that form most of the time.
Now, practicality won out. Restoring its original form was more convenient—besides, a cat couldn’t appear underwater.
Hearing Wen Xin’s grumbling, Lan Tuan nodded in agreement, siding with him. “They’re too timid.”
Wen Xin chuckled. “Exactly! They’re so timid despite their size.”
“I’m going up to see them. They’re probably anxiously waiting for me. Do you want to come along?”
The baby walrus shook its head and glanced back.
Thanks to the seawater’s clarity, Wen Xin could see as well as he would on land. Following Lan Tuan’s gaze, he spotted a colossal shadow in the distant depths, emitting a low, resonant hum.
A blue whale.
Even though its features were unclear, the immense presence etched itself in Wen Xin’s memory.
“His Highness is gravely injured and needs time to recover. I’ll stay here with him,” Lan Tuan said.
Wen Xin nodded in understanding, playfully tousling the soft fur on Lan Tuan’s head. “All right. Stay by his side and take good care of him. Don’t worry about me.”
He brought up the plight of the innocent fishermen. “Those bandits paid a heavy price this time. They’re unlikely to target the fishermen again soon. However, I doubt their leader was present during the attack. It’s best to uncover who’s behind them before they try again.”
Lan Tuan gave him a long, appraising look.
By all accounts, Wen Xin had been accidentally caught up in this incident. He clearly hadn’t pieced together all the details, evident from the confusion flickering in his eyes.
Yet, even amidst the chaos, Lan Tuan sensed a steadfast determination within him.
Wen Xin’s ability to quickly adapt and devise a strategy impressed the creature. Unable to contain its affection, Lan Tuan let out a cheerful chirp, its admiration for the young man evident.
“Gulu!”
Wen Xin surfaced.
Ah Lü, the scaly viper, and San San, the red panda, were waiting by the shore.
The water was so clear that they spotted him before he even emerged. Rushing over, they greeted him excitedly.
Wen Xin patted them one by one to soothe them. Spotting Ah Lü’s green, cat-like face, he smiled mysteriously. “Guess who I saw down there?”
Ah Lü froze, its body stiffening.
It wasn’t sure if Wen Xin had seen the moment it transitioned between forms.
But Wen Xin made no mention of it, instead grinning as he said, “It was Lan Tuan! I found him beneath the waves. Isn’t that amazing?”
Ah Lü initially didn’t think much of it—Lan Tuan had already informed them beforehand.
Two mighty S-class beings meeting was akin to kings crossing paths. Normally, such an encounter would spark intense conflict, but the presence of the young man seemed to temper their aggression.
It didn’t take long, however, for Ah Lü to pick up on something strange. “You saw it down there? Are you sure? It’s a cat!”
Wen Xin lied without blinking, speaking with absolute seriousness. “Yes, it got infected. Maybe because it used to like water, its genes mutated, and now it’s a baby walrus.”
Ah Lü was dumbfounded. “And you believe that?”
With a look that implied Ah Lü was overreacting, Wen Xin raised an eyebrow and smiled. “The records say mutants can alter their size and shape, even mimicking humans. Why wouldn’t I believe it?”
Ah Lü was at a loss for words.
It was pained to realize it had just missed a legitimate opportunity to reveal its true form.
Watching the viper sulk in quiet regret, Wen Xin’s narrow eyes curved with amusement, and he couldn’t suppress a chuckle.
He felt he might be becoming a bit mischievous.
Meanwhile, the villagers were cleaning up the shattered remnants of their fishing village.
After being ravaged by gunfire and battered by the sea, the village was unrecognizable.
The bandits’ attack had left the people of Le Shui Village grieving for their lost loved ones.
Their eyes were bloodshot, their jaws clenched. They didn’t blame the baby walrus for the tsunami; if anything, they wished it had been larger—large enough to drown every malevolent soul in its path.
An elderly man visibly relaxed upon seeing Wen Xin return safely.
From this man, whom Wen Xin learned was the village chief, he heard the story of Le Shui Village.
Before the apocalypse, it was an ordinary fishing village, operating with the sun’s rise and resting with its set. Its remote location meant little interaction with the outside world.
The villagers adhered to their ancestors’ teachings: fish only in moderation, return the younglings to the sea, and periodically dive to clear trash from the ocean floor.
Two years ago, however, a factory was built nearby. Its untreated wastewater polluted the sea overnight, leaving countless fish floating belly-up on the surface.
The villagers, usually humble and reserved, banded together to protest. Their rare display of strength forced the factory to regulate its waste.
Perhaps it was because of this that they earned the Sea God’s interest.
Yet to their surprise, the notoriously violent mutants spared them, offering them protection and peace.
Their own kind, other humans, were the ones who pushed them to the brink of destruction this time.
The elder recounted the words the bandit leader had spoken while threatening him, the bitterness almost palpable in his voice. “They targeted the Sea God to claim its corpse. Whether they believed the rumors that eating the Sea God’s flesh would grant immortality or had some other sick ideas, I don’t know.”
“Many villagers have died, and the Sea God is gravely wounded. Everyone involved in this must pay the price!”
The fishermen echoed with bloodshot eyes, their voices trembling with fury. “They must pay the price!”
Wen Xin closed his eyes briefly.
Together with the villagers, he began searching the wreckage of the armored vehicles and helicopters. The debris bore only model numbers, production codes, and manufacturing dates.
In the pre-apocalyptic world, this information could have been used to find details online. But without the internet, and with weapons manufacturers now operating as private factories for major bases, no external records existed.
This method was a dead end.
The fishermen, unfamiliar with such technicalities, stared at the wreckage in frustration, their anger mounting.
Determined to continue searching, Wen Xin left the shore and dove back into the sea, combing the ocean floor.
As he swam, he noticed a small school of fish gathered around a cylindrical object. They flicked their tails enthusiastically, nibbling at it.
Unlike most creatures, which quickly lose interest in inedible metal objects, these fish were oddly persistent, as if the object held an irresistible allure.
Wen Xin’s eyes narrowed. He swam closer, startling the fish, which scattered in all directions.
Grasping the object, he pulled it free. The waterlogged cylinder was heavy, its surface coated in white sand. After brushing it clean, he uncovered a marking.
It was a symbol Wen Xin had seen countless times before—one he could never forget.
His brows knitted tightly.
It was from… Base One?
