The bell echoed.
At first, there was only silence—the howl of the sea wind, the crash of waves against the hull, nothing but these rhythms of nature.
Then came a faint stir. Sand on the seabed churned slightly, vague shadows flashed through the coral, and the direction of the undercurrents began to change.
"DANG—!!!"
Before Shen Le could push the wooden striker forward, Ying took the initiative and rang the largest yong bell. Its peal thundered, carrying a resonance of grief and fury. Have you ever been plundered?
Have you ever been humiliated?
Have you ever been trampled beneath their feet?
Have you ever been cast out from your homeland, unable to return for years and years?
That ringing was like a key, unlocking some ancient seal. In the depths of the South Sea, a gigantic shadow slowly awakened.
It was a ship—no. Shen Le looked carefully with his spiritual sight and discovered that it was the overlapping phantoms of countless ships.
There were Song Dynasty fu ships, Ming Dynasty treasure ships, steamships from the Republican era, transport vessels from World War II—
They had once fought desperately through wind and waves. They had once fled with all their strength from pursuing pirates. They had once set out bravely for their motherland. They had once evaded warships and submarines—
All of them had sunk here, yet their souls had never found rest.
Amid the ship phantoms, countless human figures could vaguely be seen. Merchants in ancient dress, sailors with turbans wrapped around their heads, soldiers carrying guns—
And gradually, their eyes turned toward the same direction: the lights on those islands.
"Not enough." Shen Le silently assessed the surging power around him. "Not enough—need to—awaken more."
He changed the rhythm and struck up an ancient ritual song belonging to the