Xia Mi, clad in deep azure scales with membranous wings sprouting from her back, dove rapidly. Her eyes had already turned a pure gold, blazing like two lamps that would not go out even in the deep sea.
Some of the Corpse Guardians had already regained the ability to move.
Those twisted serpent-men crawled out from cracks in the ruins, letting out shrill hisses as they scrambled upward. Their brains had rotted away centuries ago. They had lost the ability to think, leaving only a bloodthirsty instinct.
Yet they instinctively avoided Xia Mi.
It was reverence for the majesty of a Monarch.
The Feathered Serpent God Kukulkan still stubbornly guarded the wreckage of the Lenin. His enormous body wheeled up and down, utterly unaware of how dangerous that technological creation cast down by humans was.
The nuclear warhead lay silently in the silt beside the sunken ship, the numbers on its timer ticking over coldly.
Suddenly, the Feathered Serpent stopped moving.
His golden eyes abruptly turned toward a certain direction, and a piercing hiss erupted from deep in his throat. He had sensed that dangerous enemy returning.
Xia Mi stopped a hundred meters away from the Feathered Serpent God.
Through the dim seawater, she gazed at the grotesquely twisted giant serpent and suddenly spoke. Sound could not travel through the deep sea, but those ancient syllables themselves carried a majesty that pierced through all things.
She was asking: Are you the White King's guard? Is the one sleeping below that ancient Dragon King?
The Feathered Serpent God did not answer.
He only continued hissing and roaring like an enraged beast. There was no glimmer of reason in his golden eyes, only vigilance and hostility.
Xia Mi watched him for a moment, then suddenly sighed softly. The sigh turned into a