Lynn narrowed his eyes.
So that was it. This was the Heavenly Lord of their Hidden Cultivation Society.
Judging by his condition, he had undoubtedly been devoured by the Old Days. Yet the information in his description seemed to hint at many secrets unknown to others.
The figure said softly:
"From the moment you set foot here, I have been watching you. Like them, have you come here for my god...?"
Lynn pushed up his hat brim with a faint smile. "Which god do you mean? That Angel, or that eldritch being?"
He received no reply.
Amid the surging tide, the figure slowly rose, his head lifted. No one could see his expression.
The enormous Abyss let out waves of sound like a tsunami. After a while, however, they began to resemble wailing cries that made their eardrums ache. As though feeling for something, he slowly extended a slender hand from his robe and touched empty air. Faintly, they could make out the Erosion Marks sunk deep into the flesh of her wrist.
"I cannot answer that question. Or perhaps, at some point, even I lost the ability to tell which one I truly worship."
His voice was ethereal, yet unsettling.
"But perhaps."
"There is no need to tell them apart."
He slowly turned around. His yellow robe concealed his face in the darkness beneath his hood, making his features impossible to discern. Only the faint outline of a chin was visible, leaving his gender indistinguishable.
The sound of the tide rose, like endless waves rippling outward.
Lynn narrowed his eyes and watched her with a smile.
"So what is your purpose? Or rather, the purpose of the one you represent?"
The figure raised his head. "I, too, would dearly like to know the answer to that question, Mr. Lynn.