Chen Wuya walked forward over the wet sand, his footprints deep and shallow across the ebbing tidal flats. Firelight still flickered in the distance, but he no longer stared at those ruins. The tentacle that had reached out from the sea earlier, its runes glowing a ghostly blue, had resonated somehow with the red mark on his palm. It had not felt like hostility—more like a summons.
He quickened his pace toward the Scripture Repository. Mo Feng had said there were several ancient texts there that had never been made public, recording old events between Penglai and the South Sea. If that tentacle truly shared an origin with the Sea-Calming Pearl, perhaps the books held some clue.
The Scripture Repository stood on a high slope in the south of the island, its back against a cliff and its face toward the sea. Its door stood half-open, the wooden frame slightly crooked, as though some force had gently shoved it. Chen Wuya did not hesitate before stepping inside.
The room was silent. Several rows of wooden shelves stood in neat order, piled with scrolls and bamboo slips. Mo Feng was crouched in a corner, flipping through a yellowed volume. Hearing the footsteps, he looked up.
"You're here." He shut the book and dusted off his hands. "I just found something."
"Tell me about the tentacle first." Chen Wuya walked to the table and pressed a hand against its surface. "What are the patterns on it connected to?"
Mo Feng shook his head. "I didn't see it myself, but the rune style you described... I've seen similar records in the Chronicle of the Southern Deep." He drew a worn piece of cloth from his robes and spread it over the table. "This is a fragment. It says that deep in the South