In fact, Fu Qian wasn't sure there were any fishfolk on the way back.
The Sea of Ashes was notorious for blocking perception.
But a true expert had to be bold enough to make a judgment—even an outright guess.
Think about it: if the fishfolk from the legends, with their deadly beauty, neither attacked nor left, but stayed here singing sweetly with you, what could their goal be?
Was this their paradise? Had they all been so blissfully contented here that they'd lost their taste for conflict?
Considering they were in a place like the Sea of Ashes, it was better to suspect a plot than indulge in a fairy-tale fantasy.
The simplest explanation was that they were distracting them. So it wasn't unreasonable to guess that someone was circling around to cut them off, was it?
And what if he really was just being malicious, and the fishfolk were actually hospitable, singing only to welcome them?
Wouldn't that be even simpler? They could charge over and say hello. The fishfolk might even show them the way!
It was hard to say whether Lan En had figured it out, but he certainly carried out the orders to the letter.
And under the authority of this expert's "perception," which had left everyone in awe, not a soul aboard objected. They quickly took up their stations and prepared for the worst.
The next moment, the little boat accelerated faster than ever, becoming an arrow streaking straight into the boundary of the downpour.
The world fell silent.
At the arrival of the unwelcome guests, the fishfolk stopped singing.
The timing was so perfectly synchronized that, with the roar of the rain stripped away as white noise, it felt as if every living thing had fallen silent.
But the silence didn't last long.