Chapter 518 Departure

Dawn.

Wave-Breaking Wharf.

As the core of the Barracuda Bay port, the air here was always thick with clamor.

Especially now, right before sunrise, the stench of fish mixed with the shouts of fishmongers in a din that wouldn't cease until noon.

Yet right now, the entire wharf lay in a bizarre, unspeakable dead silence that carried a hint of the sacred.

Night still shrouded most of the sky, but the rising sun, still hidden deep beneath the horizon, had stripped away the pitch-black hue. The heavens had turned a hazy, profound deep blue that seemed to blend with the sea.

The wharf was packed with people.

Unlike the usual porters in sweat-soaked clothes, the haggling merchants, or the crude sailors, the crowd gathered at Wave-Breaking Wharf today was far more diverse.

Men, women, the elderly, and children—one could even see many dignitaries and nobles who should have still been fast asleep in their luxurious White Cliff District mansions, squeezing into the crowd surrounded by escorts.

Everyone wore what they considered their most solemn and decent clothing.

Even the vagrants who usually hid like rats in the depths of the Saltwater District's alleys had found places to scrub themselves clean, digging to the very bottom of their belongings to fish out the thin linen shirts with the fewest patches.

The storm lanterns on the high towers, the kerosene lamps by the mooring bollards, the candlelight casting from the windows of the coastal wooden houses—all lights had been extinguished.

If someone were to look down from high above, they would see that a massive area centered on Wave-Breaking Wharf had been swallowed by darkness, completely devoid of light.

No one spoke a word.

The people waited in silence.

The only sound in the air was the tide crashing against the shore.

Hum—

Deep within the port, a speck of light suddenly floated up.

A floating sea lantern emitting a cold blue glow drifted out among the waves.

Then came a second, and a third—

The dark and fathomless sea was instantly transformed into a dreamy azure by countless lanterns, lighting up the entire bay like a slowly flowing river of stars.

Right in the center of this glow sat a ceremonial boat—not particularly large, but exceptionally exquisite.

The long cables tied to both sides were released foot by foot by the sailors on the shore, letting the boat glide silently across the water.

Its hull was painted a flawless white, and the deck was piled high with fresh flowers donated by the people of Barracuda Bay.

Lilies of Holy Grace from the upper echelons of the Church, meticulously cultivated double-petaled roses from the gardeners of the Governor's Mansion, violets and lavender bought from flower shops in the Cormorant District, and nameless wildflowers plucked from alley corners in the Saltwater District—these flowers held no distinction of class. Mixed together, they were piled layer upon layer, nearly burying the ship's rails.

From a distance, it looked like a hill of flowers floating on the sea.

The statue of the Tidechant Saint—who, according to legend, sacrificed her own life to quell the wrath of the gods and win peace for the people of the Southern Archipelagos—stood quietly at the very peak of the floral hill.

She faced the shipping lane, her head slightly bowed. Her eyelids were half-closed, and her fingers were intertwined, palms pressed together against her chest in a gesture of prayer.

Draped in the faint light reflecting off the flowers on the surrounding deck, the entire statue was imbued with an air of divinity.

The Saint and the ceremonial boat, surrounded by the river of stars and the sea of flowers, slowly sailed out of the bay.

At the exact moment the bow broke the boundary between the port and the open sea, the first ray of morning light pierced the night from the distant horizon, gently falling upon the statue's face.

Rumble—

The dead silence that had filled the port collapsed in an instant, transforming into the cheers and applause of countless people.

The Sea Rhythm Festival had arrived.

Standing on the deck of the Blade of Vengeance Ship, Xia Nan crossed his arms, his pitch-black eyes staring at the distant flower boat as it bathed in the morning light, gradually sailing away surrounded by sea lanterns.

Although his expression remained unchanged, a faint, inexplicable surge of emotion welled up inside him.

He had to admit that even though he came from another world, naturally felt a sense of alienation toward everything on the Aifala Continent, and was completely unfamiliar with the local traditions of Barracuda Bay, genuinely participating in this event as part of the crowd and feeling its rich atmosphere still stirred something deep inside him.

At the very least, it was interesting to watch.

The "Flower Boat Port Patrol" was a massive event supposedly held by the locals of the Southern Archipelagos to commemorate the Tidechant Saint. Over time, it had also become a way to pray for the port's ships and bless the coming year's fish harvest.

It was one of the customs of the Sea Rhythm Festival, a holiday that occurred every three years, standing on equal footing with the Lunar Tide Banquet.

He heard that the Governor's Mansion was planning to host the Fish of Holy Grace event in the coming days. The officials would organize a trip out to sea, cook the first net of fish caught into a soup in the town square, and have a highly respected elder distribute it to everyone. It symbolized sharing the ocean's generosity, and every citizen who drank the fish soup would receive the sea's blessing.

Xia Nan had originally thought about heading over to snag a bowl and taste it.

But now, he no longer had the chance.

As for the reason—it was naturally because he was about to set off with the Blade of Vengeance Fleet, heading out to the open sea to attend the long-awaited Lunar Tide Banquet.

"Hey, hey! Xia Nan! Help me hang this flag!"

A somewhat rushed call suddenly came from behind.

Turning his head, he saw the halfling, Alton, holding up a flagpole taller than himself with both hands.

His short body was mostly covered by the blue flag fluttering in the wind, blinding him to the path ahead. Only a pair of small leather boots could be seen stumbling forward, looking as though he might trip at any second.

Taking a few steps forward, Xia Nan accepted the flagpole from the little guy. He glanced at the blue bunting embroidered with a simplified wind-and-waves pattern and casually asked, "Where does this go?"

Hanging a flag of this color and style before setting sail was another traditional custom of the Sea Rhythm Festival, meant to pray for a safe and smooth voyage.

In this world where gods truly existed, especially for adventurers who constantly walked the line between life and death, even those who weren't interested in the festivals would superstitiously hang the flag just for psychological comfort.

After all, it didn't cost much money. If it actually worked and prompted the gods in the heavens to spare them a glance, warding off an impending danger, wouldn't that be a massive profit?

"Here! Over here!" Striding on his two short legs, Alton waved at Xia Nan and trotted over to a tie-rod at the edge of the deck. "Just tie it here!"

As a Lightfoot Halfling, Alton had always held a strong curiosity toward everything he encountered on his travels. Facing the Southern Archipelagos' once-every-three-years Sea Rhythm Festival, his excitement went without saying.

He was even more eager to attend the upcoming Lunar Tide Banquet than Xia Nan was.

On the other side, the Tabaxi, Sasha, was putting his racial physical advantages to good use. Swaying his long, furry tail, he shuttled back and forth among the masts, carrying a bucket of specially made, easily washable blue dye to paint Sea Rhythm Festival patterns on the canvas and masts.

The twin warriors, Ryan and Gordon, were directing the sailors as they loaded cargo, making final preparations for departure just like always. The barbarian, Aken, hadn't had time for breakfast, yet he didn't eat inside the cabin either. Instead, he cradled a large pot of meat stew, scooping it into his mouth with a spoon while looking up to correct Sasha's painting angles.

"Hey, Xia Nan, did you find a buyer for that horn of yours?" With a few seagulls fluttering overhead, the druid, Hein, stepped closer and asked. The Practice Staff she had bought from Xia Nan hung at her waist. "If you haven't sold it yet, I can ask around my circle for you."

Sensing the goodwill in her words, Xia Nan smiled and waved his hand, explaining, "It's already sold. You probably know the buyer—it's Auriel Silverheart, the famous collector in town."

"Oh, that's good then."

Previously, when Xia Nan had just returned from Wild Berry Cliff and was figuring out how to handle his loot, he had asked Hein, a fellow spellcaster, if she was interested in the horn obtained from the Sahuagin Priest.

After all, they were teammates who had experienced life and death together, and she had even taken him fishing at her Coral Reef a few times.

If Hein needed it, Xia Nan wouldn't have minded giving her a slight discount on the horn.

At first, when Xia Nan briefly introduced the equipment—deliberately keeping the exact stats vague to avoid exposing his Attribute Panel—Hein had been somewhat tempted. After all, a spellcasting focus capable of simultaneously boosting both Evocation and Enchantment School spells, while also providing an active defensive effect, was truly uncommon.

But in the end, after careful consideration, Hein still politely declined.

It wasn't that she couldn't afford it. Having adventured in the Southern Archipelagos for many years and serving as the core spellcaster for the Blade of Vengeance Fleet, her wealth went without saying.

It was just that the horn's weight and bulk were too large, making it unsuitable for Hein's combat style.

But undoubtedly, the druid hadn't taken Xia Nan's goodwill for granted; instead, she had kept it in mind.

Now, ten days after Xia Nan had returned to Barracuda Bay, her sudden mention of it clearly wasn't a shot in the dark; she had obviously screened members within her circle who might have needed it.

Chatting idly with Hein and Alton, Xia Nan rested his hands behind his head, the azure sea sparkling in the sunlight reflected in his eyes.

Just yesterday afternoon, he had completely filled the White Flask with energy, finishing all the prerequisite preparations before opening it.

During the process of opening it, despite some minor turbulence and accidents caused by spatial currents, he managed to suppress it without any real danger.

As for exactly what items popped out from within, it wasn't convenient to examine them closely right now.

He could only say that Lyle Morton—who had died in an unknown corner of the White Cliff District's sewers—was truly wealthy, living up to his status as the descendant of a prestigious family.

And most importantly, Xia Nan hadn't found any items bearing the Morton family crest or insignia among the loot.

This was undoubtedly a great thing, meaning he could openly spend all the treasure without having to act constrained while fencing the stolen goods for fear of drawing the Morton family's attention.

Aside from those materials and instruments whose specific purposes he didn't yet understand, the magic crystals and gold coins alone were an incredibly exaggerated windfall.

For the current Xia Nan, at least for a very long time, he wouldn't have to feel financially stretched for his daily cultivation expenses.

"Boss Lorraine is out!"

A sailor's sudden exclamation in his ear pulled Xia Nan's thoughts back to reality.

Following the crowd's gaze toward the upper deck, a tall and fiery figure pushed open the cabin door and stepped out.

Her dark red, slightly wavy long hair was casually draped over her shoulders. Lorraine was still wearing that set of leather armor that perfectly outlined her voluptuous, fiery figure, with the Scale-Fire Scimitar—which Xia Nan found incredibly familiar—hanging at her waist.

The sea breeze blew past, lifting the hem of her bright red cape.

"Looks like everyone is here?" The female captain held an unlit, crude cigar in her mouth. Looking down from her high vantage point at the busy crowd on the deck below, she raised her heroic eyebrows. "Then there's nothing more to say. Prepare what needs preparing, and inspect what needs inspecting. Put every ounce of strength you've got into it! Destination: the open sea! Hoist the sails! Set off!!!"

"Ohhhhh!!!"

With the female captain's order, the entire Blade of Vengeance Ship instantly erupted in deafening cheers, bursting with astonishing vitality like an awakening behemoth.

The sailors heaved in unison. Accompanied by rough, powerful work chants, the massive mainsail was slowly raised, snapping and fluttering loudly as it swelled with the sea breeze.

The thick iron anchor was hauled back bit by bit by the capstan, bringing up strings of crystal-clear water droplets.

With a slight sway of the hull, the Blade of Vengeance Ship—an adventurer vessel carrying countless stories and glories—finally sailed slowly away from Wave-Breaking Wharf. Facing the direction of the rising sun, it cleaved through the waves, pressing forward unstoppably.