Chapter 127

The scar on his cheek suddenly burst into flames, extending along the lines of the scar to both ends.

The Pure Water Spirit collapsed, most of its face submerged in the cool, clear water, and the flame hissed and went out once more.

Joan of Arc felt her breath catch in her throat. She looked at the Pure Water Spirit before her with worry and heartache, waiting for the latter to give her a reasonable answer.

The girl immersed her face in the cold water, her voice muffled.

"Once upon a time, when the Pure Water Spirit lived in the waterways on land, humans and nature lived in harmony. In a spring, there lived five Pure Water Spirit."

"One day, the tide came in and overflowed the spring. A Pure Water Spirit happily swam with the waves and played in the sea until it returned the next evening."

"The spring water became extremely bitter."

"Jeanne, do you know why?"

The girl raised her head, revealing a painful and twisted smile.

She chuckled twice, "The Pure Water Spirit was torn apart from its Consciousness Core in extreme pain, and the remaining remains were extremely bitter turbid water."

"In other words, while she was out having fun, her mother and sisters were brutally murdered."

"That useless Pure Water Spirit turned and fled, hiding in the water system deep in the island for two weeks... Later, she heard that a team of Tuners from Ys had accidentally discovered the spring, and they needed the Pure Water Spirit to brew the Elixir of Immortality, which is why they suffered such a disaster."

"Later, later... this Pure Water Spirit caught two lone musicians and learned that the Grand Harmonizer Elizabeth needed to bathe and soak in fresh dew every day to maintain her youthful beauty."

"The brewing of all the spiritual dew in Atlantis is in her hands."

The green-eyed girl finally raised her head. The flames no longer spread along the scars, but it seemed as if flames were burning in her eyes.

"Later, this Pure Water Spirit kept attacking the musicians' teams that were trying to capture their own kind, but there were just too many musicians. Her brethren gave up their consciousness and voluntarily became part of her form."

The Pure Water Spirit spoke calmly, even with a hint of mockery, but Joan of Arc clenched her fists.

"And what about me?" Joan of Arc whispered.

"This is none of your business."

"Irrelevant...?" Joan of Arc said hatefully, "In this revenge, am I on your side or on your opposite side? The Spirit Dew has long been flowing in the blood of every Atlantis. In other words, you are also waiting to settle accounts with me, aren't you?"

"That has nothing to do with you... You don't need to feel guilty about it."

"What if I feel guilty?!" Joan of Arc clutched her chest, her voice hoarse. "We were comrades, accomplices. So what if Grand Harmonizer? We killed her together... But why couldn't you wait a moment? You were the one seeking revenge, yet I was comfortably enjoying the spoils of your vengeance?!"

"I hate you..."

I hate that you acted on your own initiative, I hate that you abandoned me.

I also hate that I am powerless and always feel inferior and belittled in front of you.

Joan of Arc heard her own voice whistling between her bones, pounding back and forth between her heart and lungs, growing endlessly between her throat and lips.

If you've already decided to step into the abyss, why lift me up again? We decided long ago to support each other on the road to our end, so why abandon me alone?

I hate that the bright moon hangs high above, yet it alone does not shine on me.

Joan of Arc knelt down, and dripped her blood, which emitted a faint white light, into the half-collapsed form of the Pure Water Spirit, and the latter began to gradually heal.

"This is the last time, Ishtar," Joan of Arc heard herself say. "Since our relationship is nothing, let's just let each other go... You don't know how many tears I've shed for you, and I don't know how much pain you're hiding. I'm so tired, it seems like I'm always chasing after something, always just watching from the sidelines—"

Joan of Arc felt the trembling body of the Pure Water Spirit, who lowered her head and remained silent, like a deity with downcast eyes.

But the Pure Water Spirit didn't say anything in the end; she sat silently in the water.

The last glimmer of hope in Joan of Arc's eyes vanished completely, like rainwater disappearing into the sea.

She silently tended to the girl's wounds, offered prayers to help her recover, and left plenty of equipment, food, and medicine beside her.

Joan of Arc turned and waded away, but the short distance felt like an insurmountable chasm. She felt Ishtar's face moving and shifting before her, as if the long rainy season of her life had come and gone repeatedly, like the aching joints on a rainy day, or the sticky wisps of hair on her neck during a sweltering summer.

It is also the dripping water from the eaves when sheltering from a sudden rain, winding coldly along the spine; it is also the hazy, indistinct feeling of the moon in the clouds and flowers in the water during dreams.

Joan of Arc felt herself experiencing labor pains as she grew.

She walked and stopped, but Ishtar still didn't call out to her.

Joan of Arc finally said to herself: Yes, being loved has no prerequisites, but I have never been loved at all.

Her feelings for the Pure Water Spirit were hard to define as hatred; it was simply a love that was too painful... But how could she possibly forget him?

A voice told her: If you truly hate someone, you should wish them dead.

But Joan of Arc said: If that's the case, I'd rather she kill me.

In the years that followed, she dug up every trace of him, seeking out every wound he had suffered. Everyone advised her to let go, yet she couldn't control herself.

Joan of Arc thought: I can decide to do good, but I cannot decide to carry out my plans.

Since ancient times, all have died, and none have died without swallowing their resentment. If that is truly the case, you might as well dismantle my bones and chew them up carefully.

Joan of Arc recalled how, during the rainy season, the Pure Water Spirit built a dry hut large enough for the two of them to live alone; how, when her old wounds flared up on rainy days, she cut off a part of her body to drink; and how, when the sweltering heat arrived, she wrapped herself in it, and the heat dissipated.

From now on, she will stay away... but can she really stay away?

The flickering flames stung Joan of Arc's eyes, jolting her awake from a nightmare from long ago.

She stared silently at the lines on her palm, which were coiled and intertwined, like a swarm of snakes or vines entwining tree roots.

Joan of Arc murmured Hebe's name, and the mere thought of the name escaping her lips sent shivers down her spine.

Let's go!

Joan of Arc rose from the fire, raised her banner, and the lurking army followed suit, raising their weapons and roaring so loudly that it even drowned out the tides.

"Let's go back to the North!"

Joan of Arc silently said: I will help you kill.

Elizabeth Bathory.

If Nero upheld the Atlantis principle of pure-blood supremacy, then Elizabeth's mindset was one of resisting death; she longed to remain young forever and prolong her life.

Of course, they do have something in common: they all maintain a free and hedonistic mindset.

Therefore, Nero would not hesitate to use his own Royal Guard as bait on the battlefield, letting them die in vain.

So Elizabeth would venture deep into the North without a care, to catch the freshest Pure Water Spirit —but frustratingly, the Pure Water Spirit had long since vanished.

Elizabeth's journey was filled only with encounters with vengeful Muddy Water Spirit.

The Muddy Water Spirit are like residue that has already been squeezed dry. The amount of spiritual dew in their bodies is pitifully small. In the past two hundred years... no, even eighty years ago, Elizabeth wouldn't have given them a second glance. They would have been nothing more than roadside stray dogs that would have kicked them to death.

But she can't do that now. She has to carefully collect them. It takes about a dozen Muddy Water Spirit to extract about one-third of the spiritual dew equivalent to that of a Pure Water Spirit.

Sometimes Elizabeth wondered what would become of Atlantis if even the Muddy Water Spirit disappeared.

But that situation was too terrible. The operation of Ys City required the use of the Spirit Dew, and the strong physiques and long, youthful lives of the citizens of Ys also depended on the maintenance of the Spirit Dew of Immortality. Not to mention the Golem Knights.

Oh, and there are also musicians and philosophers. The former need spiritual dew as a lubricant during their performance; the latter need spiritual dew to enter a deep state of meditation.

Of course, both of these are major sources of Spirit Dew consumption.

In fact, a large portion of them came from citizen families and received multiple Spirit Dew subsidies.

If the source of the Spirit Dew were completely cut off, Ys would surely be shaken by this, and might even fall into destruction from the inside out... This is because people hunt Pure Water Spirit in order to extract the Spirit Dew from their bodies, which can preserve their youth forever.

But now, the blood flowing through the bodies of the citizens of Ys is no longer that of the mortals. In the bodies of the oldest citizens, only viscous spiritual dew flows... If we were to use Nero's theory of pureblood, then at this moment, there would be no truly purebloods left in Atlantis.

Yes, not even in the North.

Due to long periods of intermarriage, pursuit, and assimilation, the blood of the barbarians in the North also contains different components of spiritual essence.

Of course, it's still a bit lower compared to the Muddy Water Spirit.

But if we wait until the Muddy Water Spirit are exhausted... then the target of our hunt will become the barbarians of the North.

Even if it takes hundreds of people to extract just one portion of spiritual dew, so what?

Elizabeth, in any case, had no psychological burden.

"Why don't we start here and try it out... We need to capture the Pure Water Spirit, we need to capture the Muddy Water Spirit, and we need to capture the northern barbarians. Only then can we be considered complete!"

The coffin was slightly ajar, and pale fingers emerged from it, gently tapping the edge of the coffin.

Thump!

Like a heartbeat, like a drumbeat, and even more like thunder.

The distant village erupted in excitement in an instant.

All the villagers living in the village couldn't help but move their bodies. They spontaneously found the biggest pot in the village and then lined up in the open square in batches according to their age.

First came the youngest infants and children; the old man raised his knife and shaved off their skin, flesh, and bones, throwing them into the pot. Even the blood was not wasted.

Then there are teenagers and young adults, who are more self-aware and will even help the elderly, telling them where to make the incision to make it faster.

There were no middle-aged people in the village. Or rather, most of the northern barbarians wouldn't have lived to that time.

By the time the frail old man also fell into the pot, everything was already blurred and indistinct by the mist.

"My idea was right after all!" Elizabeth exclaimed excitedly. "Although it's less efficient than the citizens of Ys and the Muddy Water Spirit, the advantage is that we can capture and exterminate them legitimately..."

Finally, put the Muddy Water Spirit into the pot.

Elizabeth tapped the side of the coffin with her fingers, as if playing an ancient melody.

As the drumbeats rose and fell, the nature of things changed; the somewhat old pot gradually transformed into a taller, more sophisticated alchemical cauldron.

Lightning flashes from the void, flowers bloom on stone. This is the ultimate secret Elizabeth possesses—as Grand Harmonizer bearing the name "Vermilion," the melodies she masters can cause drastic and rapid changes in the nature of things.

This is precisely why Elizabeth was more favored by the philosophers.

This was not only because she provided the latter with spiritual dew, but also because the authority she held allowed some schools of thought to verify their ideas in advance, without having to go through arduous practice.

The sound of rushing water began to rise from within.

The skin, bones, and flesh were also assimilated by the turbid water.

But as it boiled and churned, the water level gradually dropped, and the murky water gradually turned a brilliant gold, carrying a sweet, honey-like aroma.

This is the Youthful Dew.

The coffin was slightly ajar, and the surging Youthful Dew from the alchemical apparatus flowed into it.

Although it is an unparalleled treasure, it is insignificant compared to the highest-level masterpiece, "Hebe".

Something is better than nothing.

Elizabeth lamented the change in her mindset.

She used to look down on these things.

197 Please listen quietly.

These are the traces that Hebe discovered.

Elizabeth's Youthful Dew comes from valleys and rivers, from islands and springs, from deserted villages in the North.

Soon it will also come from Burgundy and Orleans, from the city-states of Is, from the self-proclaimed noble citizens, musicians, and philosophers of Is.

This is merely a byproduct of the "Philosophical Chaos".

In Joan of Arc's memory, an eccentric philosopher once again accomplished the great feat of succeeding the Uncrowned King. Amidst this turmoil, the already declining Academy of Philosophy once again faced an unprecedented schism.

But at this time, since the philosopher named Nietzsche had not yet returned to Issus, it meant that the Philosophical Chaos was still some years away.

But who can guarantee that everything will unfold smoothly according to Joan of Arc's memory? Not to mention that Joan of Arc originally intended to change it... When the Grand Harmonizer Nero died in battle, the course of history began to deviate further and further from memory.

So at this time, Elizabeth was still elusive in the North, while Hebe, who was searching for her, became increasingly silent and cold.

As for the Philosopher's Kid, they always empathize with their mentors.

So these boys, who were originally laughing and joking, also became silent and stoic. They changed into short clothes that were easy to move in, wore short swords and hand axes at their waists, wore straw sandals, and cut off their overly long hair.

Skadi wasn't exactly Philosopher's Kid, so she questioned Hebe's actions: how could they have found Elizabeth's trail when they seemed to be wandering aimlessly in the wilderness?

Hebe made no attempt to conceal anything: firstly, because she was quite familiar with the North, and secondly, because someone had left her a mark to guide her.

That person was Joan of Arc, who led her army back to the North ahead of time to pursue and intercept Elizabeth.

Hebe pointed to the bottom of a large rock by the roadside, where there was a cross-shaped mark.

The longer section of the cross mark became a directional indicator for navigation.