743 Exploration

743 Exploration

On the dark expanse of the sea, the antiquated Blue Avenger bobbed gently with the undulations of the waves, enveloped by an unending mist.

Lumian once again came face to face with Alger, the Stormbringer.

The bearer of The Hanged Man card stood on deck, his deep blue hair a wild mess, seemingly under constant assault from the sea winds. His attire had changed from his previous sailor’s garb to a captain’s coat adorned with golden embroidery on a blue background.

“Explore it yourself,” Alger said to Lumian, who was standing beside Magician, nodding firmly.

“I don’t have any wisdom to impart that would help; if I did, I’d have already uncovered all the secrets of this ghost ship.”

These matters had been confirmed by Madam Magician, leaving Lumian without doubts. He

thanked Alger and began walking forward, his steps echoing on the wooden deck.

He triggered the residual aura of the Blood Emperor in his right palm without hesitation, but felt no ominous sensation spill forth.

Instead, his palm felt ice-cold, while deep within was a pain like fire scorching his flesh.

Lumian lifted his right hand and noticed that the faint red scar had brightened slightly, but the skin covering it had turned paler, more deathlike.

I wonder whether the Underworld Daoist’s seal would prevent activating the key special characteristics of this ghost ship… Lumian circled the Blue Avenger’s cabin with a mix of anxiety and trepidation.

During his exploration, he encountered no attacks from ropes or any other disturbances.

It seems the residual aura of the Blood Emperor still serves some purpose, or else it wouldn’t be this tranquil… Lumian muttered to himself as he stepped into the cabin, exploring each room in turn.

The Hanged Man, Alger, did not follow but stayed at the front of the deck, watching from afar.

As Lumian’s figure disappeared deeper into the ship, Magician raised her right hand and drew a circle in mid-air with her index finger.

A sprinkle of brilliant starlight emerged, initially forming a transparent crystal orb, then expanding into a circular, dreamlike veil.

On the veil, Lumian’s figure appeared, wandering around the captain’s cabin, occasionally extending his right palm to touch various objects.

“There should be some findings,” Magician stated with a charlatan-like tone.

The Hanged Man nodded slightly, not asking what might be found or what changes it could bring, since even Magician could not divine a certain future, and Ma’am Hermit could only see vague images.

After Mr. Fool’s slumber, the Major Arcana card holders had explored the Blue Avenger multiple times but had not unraveled the ghost ship’s core secrets or located the treasures left by the Tudor dynasty.

With the Apprentice pathway’s speciality, Magician only managed to help The Hanged Man uncover other secrets, unable to reach the deepest level.

Mr. Star’s explanation was:

“The Blue Avenger is not only influenced by the Lawyer pathway’s Distortion authority but also possesses notable traits of errors, spatial transposition, and grafting.

And this aligned with the actual circumstances of the Tudor dynasty: Under Blood Emperor Alista Tudor, among the five great nobles, Amon was the Marauder, the King of Angels of the Error pathway, later becoming a true god; the ancestor of the Abraham family, Mr. Door, was the King of Angels of the Apprentice pathway; and the ancestor of the Antigonus family was the King of Angels of the Seer pathway. The Jacob and Tamara families had one Angel from the Error pathway and one who had been an Angel of the Apprentice pathway.

They clearly possessed strong abilities to utilize errors, alter positions, and graft spaces.

If not ensuring the preservation of the Blue Avenger and its treasures unharmed and intact, Magician felt she could unravel the ghost ship’s deepest secrets, but doing so would reduce the Blue Avenger to irreparable fragments.

Under the watchful eyes of two Major Arcana card holders, Lumian searched every room on the upper deck without triggering any anomalies.

He intermittently came across seven or eight sailors, all instructed by the captain not to interfere with his exploration.

Approaching the stairs leading to the lower decks, Lumian glanced down into the pitch-black abyss below, maintaining the stimulated aura of the Blood Emperor as he descended the creaking stairs.

As he walked, he suddenly detected an unusual scent.

He had been descending for thirty to forty seconds, which under normal circumstances should have brought him to the lower deck’s floor.

The distance between the Blue Avenger’s upper and lower decks couldn’t possibly be so vast that a Reaper couldn’t traverse it in dozens of seconds!

To this, Lumian responded not with alarm, but with elation.

An anomaly was exactly what he needed!

Had there been no anomaly, it would have meant the sealed residual aura of the Blood Emperor could no longer function properly!

Lumian exhaled, calming his nerves while maintaining a steady but unhurried pace, continuing the creaky descent into the darkness.

After an indeterminate amount of time, he saw no more wooden steps ahead; his feet now touched cold, black stone slabs radiating a metallic chill.

Have I arrived? Just as this thought flickered through Lumian’s mind, his vision was flooded with blazing white light.

He saw a barrage of white-hot flame spears flying densely toward him, obscuring everything above.

It was like facing an army, each soldier hurling a flame spear from their hands.

There was nowhere to hide, no way to dodge.

Instinctively, Lumian was about to swap places with his shadow, hoping to use this rapid ability to survive the initial volley and then seek a chance to teleport away.

But just then, he had an idea—an extremely daring idea.

Lumian’s expression took on a tinge of madness as he faced the overwhelming barrage of flame spears, not using any abilities and not even attempting to dodge.

He straightened his back and thrust forward his right palm.

The right palm, sealed by the Underworld Daoist and carrying the residual aura of the Blood Emperor—both were fully activated.

The dense, rain-like barrage of white-hot flame spears instantly froze in mid-air.

They stopped, neither advancing nor falling.

Seeing this, Lumian let out an uncontrollable sigh of relief.

He had made the right bet!

Gradually, the white-hot flame spears began to extinguish, slowly fading until they completely disappeared.

Before Lumian could take a closer look, clusters of bright flames lit up on both sides.

They resembled wall-mounted lamps, piercing the dense darkness and revealing the surroundings.

He found himself in a deep, wide hall that was smaller than he had imagined.

When the white-hot flame spears were hurled at him like a flock of endless crows, it felt as though he stood on an ancient battlefield, vast enough to be measured in kilometers. However, the hall before him was merely the size of the grand prayer hall of the Saint Vive Cathedral.

At a glance, Lumian’s gaze froze, and his heart seemed to stop beating.

At the far end of the hall, there stood a colossal throne made of black iron.

The surface of the throne bore patches of red, either from the corrosion of ages or from old bloodstains.

There was a figure on the throne!

This figure was giant-like, draped in a deep red ceremonial robe and wearing an iron-black crown, with its right elbow resting on the armrest, supporting its bowed head.

The flickering blood-red long hair draped down, hiding the figure’s face.

Lumian was familiar with this figure; he had seen it at the Samaritan Women’s Spring, though the attire was somewhat different now.

It was the figure of Blood Emperor Alista Tudor!

However, this figure lacked the terror, violence, and madness seen at the Samaritan Women’s Spring, devoid of the aura of war and destruction, and the tangible oppressiveness and sense of conquest; if it weren’t visible, Lumian would have believed there was nothing on the iron throne.

A phantom? Lumian closed his eyes, relying solely on his other senses and intuition to feel.

In this perception, there was nothing above the iron throne marked with red stains.

Lumian’s heartbeat gradually normalized, and he reopened his eyes to look at the iron throne.

The figure remained motionless.

Lumian resisted the urge to observe any weaknesses in the figure or to activate the Eye of Calamity. Instead, he shifted his gaze and surveyed the rest of the hall.

Below the nine steps leading up to the iron throne were five mottled stone chairs—two on the left and three on the right.

Why couldn’t there be one more, for symmetry? Lumian couldn’t help but criticize to himself.

He knew these five stone chairs likely represented the five great nobles of the Tudor dynasty.

These ancient, mottled chairs appeared smashed by someone; some were completely split by cracks, some shattered into countless pieces yet barely holding their original shape, some had broken backrests, some were missing their seats, and others seemed melted by intense flames as if burnt for a long time.

Had there been a battle here? Lumian tried to find corresponding marks on the black stone floor, the giant supporting columns, and the surrounding walls, but found nothing.

No objects either… Weren’t there supposed to be treasures from the Tudor dynasty hidden here? Had they been stolen? Hmm, Termiboros had said earlier that if I’m not of high enough level, forcibly exploring the Blue Avenger could lead to the resurrection of Alista Tudor within me… This suggests there should be something here, or some arrangement… Lumian started walking forward again.

All the while, he kept his eyes on the figure on the iron throne, observing every detail.

Suddenly, he saw a pair of eyes, iron-black and cold.

The figure on the iron throne slowly raised its head.

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