This endless ocean, at this moment, was like the massive drumhead of a deity. The seawater? Just grains of sand on that drum. If the gods gave it a tap, every grain would bounce up with a bang. From the divine perspective, maybe it was just a bit of joyful hopping. But for mortals, it was an absolute catastrophe.
The newly rebuilt Lady Mother's Temple was as desolate as it gets—only broken walls and scattered rubble remained. Yet this battered temple was everyone's sole refuge from the storm. Ferocious waves crashed in, like tigers on the hunt, slamming down on the crowd. But once they hit that fragile zone of shelter, they’d fizzle out and flop back into the sea.
Imperial guards, ceremonial officials, and curious bystanders—over seven thousand people in all. Right now, only three thousand could squeeze into the safe zone, while the other four thousand had to tough it out in the raging wilds of nature. People clung together, friends or strangers, all grabbing on for dear life. Loosen your grip even a little, and you’d get blown away by the wind or swept up by the waves—rumor has it, that’s exactly how Lady Mother met her end.
Still, there was some comfort: with sincere prayers and the ongoing divine ceremony, the statue’s disaster-warding powers seemed to be growing. The safe zone kept expanding, covering more and more people. There’s a saying in Christianity—only suffering makes people believe in God, so you have to bring misery to spread the faith. Logically, it’s kind of like a legal trap called 'entrapment,' where someone is induced into committing a crime (basically, baiting them). But hey, it works.
In the face of disaster, everyone becomes devout.
You can’t just improvise a divine ceremony—it’s got to follow strict protocol. Emperor Richard Song might usually hate all the fuss, but right now he’s the poster child for high standards and nitpicking. Thunder roaring, wind blowing his hat clean off, but he’s still going through the motions, step by step, not missing a beat.
But the heavens didn’t seem willing to give him that much time.
The raging ocean just got wilder and wilder. Finally, fifteen minutes into the disaster, three massive shockwaves rippled out from the depths. It was like the gods really put their backs into it, pounding the drumhead three times. With each thunderous boom, the shockwaves blasted out fast. No earthquake—this wasn’t a physical shake. But everyone felt it: heads spinning, faces contorted, and the sickly folks even coughed up blood.
Towering waves—one of them shot up fifteen meters high. That’s about five stories tall! The monster wave reared its head like a deep-sea beast, blocking out the sky, then came crashing down straight for the shore.
“Aaaahhh—!!” “Help—!!”
In the midst of desperate cries, even Master Connor Kong—who’d been busy rescuing folks—felt powerless. This kind of natural disaster was way beyond human ability. Emperor Richard Song’s old face had gone ghostly pale; he nearly wet himself from fear. Only Minister Simon Jia looked grim, lost in his own thoughts.
But then, something happened that made everyone go wild with joy. The statue’s protective line expanded outward and slammed right into the giant wave. In that instant, every living soul mentally filled in scenes of 'divine battle,' 'clash of godly powers,' and 'good versus evil.' And then, just like that, the waves collapsed as if their bones had been yanked out.
Whoosh—tons of seawater surged up the slope, but by the time it barely reached the temple’s front door, it lost steam and rolled back. Thousands of people were instantly soaked like drowned rats—but hey, that’s way better than getting swept away by a monster wave. People stared at the sea, shaken, and realized that after all that drama, the evil sea god seemed to have finally chilled out.
The wind hadn’t stopped, but it was way gentler now. The rain kept falling, but it was just a drizzle. The sky wasn’t clear yet, but it wasn’t that terrifying wall of black clouds anymore. The tide receded, the land bridge reappeared, and the siege was over. Waves still crashed and rolled, but only a bit bigger than usual. People rushed down to the shore to pull those still struggling in the water back to safety.
Survivors looked around, feeling like they’d just crossed into another world. Out in the deep ocean, a huge vortex of clouds still spun in the air. But compared to the earlier black sky-of-doom, the now gray-white clouds looked kinda cute, honestly.
“It’s Lady Mother! Lady Mother protected us!” “Bow to Lady Mother!” “Thank you Lady Mother for watching over us!” With endless gratitude, folks worshipped. A minister approached Emperor Richard Song and whispered, “Your Majesty, the crisis may be over, but it’s best not to linger here. Please, for the sake of your health, let’s head back and rest!”
If the emperor doesn’t leave, nobody else can leave. If you want to dodge disaster, you’ve gotta talk the emperor into leaving first.
“Rest?” Emperor Richard Song almost nodded out of habit, but suddenly froze. He glanced back at the miraculous statue, then shouted, “We’re halfway through the divine ceremony! Quitting now would be a huge insult to the gods and the heavens! I’m the Son of Heaven—I have to honor the divine and uphold virtue. How could I run away halfway? Someone, fetch my crown—I’m continuing the ceremony! And hurry to the city for more cattle and sheep, replenish the offerings, not a single tribute missing! Oh, and gather all the people from near and far, bring them here to bow to the Heavenly Consort! Why are you all just standing there? Move, move, move!”
Right now, Emperor Richard Song was working overtime to save face.
He was old and on his last legs, and like many before him, had gotten obsessed with ghosts and gods. He’d never seen a miracle before, but now he was at least fifty percent convinced that this statue was the real deal.
If there really was something supernatural going on, then he had to do everything he could to get on its good side. That dirty poem he recited earlier had definitely pissed off the gods, so now Emperor Richard Song was pulling out all the stops to make amends. He’d already decided: from now on, the government would promote and fund Lady Mother’s Temples all across the land. As the saying goes, 'Buddhas fight over incense offerings'—as long as there’s competition, it’s all good. And if I, the Son of Heaven, want to bribe someone, even the gods will have to crack a smile!
This chapter isn’t over yet ^.^, click next page to keep reading!
While Emperor Richard Song was feeling pretty pleased with himself, plenty of others were also gearing up for action.
The recent storm and shockwaves knocked a lot of people out of the running, but even more managed to hang on. Now that all the legendary signs had shown up—quakes, tsunamis, and all—the stories had to be true. That meant Mystic Isle must have appeared!
Supposedly, once Mystic Isle surfaces, it never sticks around for long. Sometimes it lasts a few days, sometimes just a single day and night. With a once-in-five-hundred-years chance like this, who wouldn’t race to get there first?
Boats big and small sliced through the waves. Charge! Ride the wind and waves—head for Mystic Isle!
Meanwhile, atop Lost Vessel Island, Dr. Long Fang silently raised his hand and then slashed it down. Instantly, signals passed from flag to flag. On those eighteen Dragonfang Warships, soldiers rushed about, orders flying. Ropes were untied, long oars stretched out, and the great ships surged from the harbor like giant sea beasts heading out to hunt.
—————Meanwhile—————
"Cough, cough—damn, there was even a giant whirlpool? That’s just evil!" On a cliffside, Jill Young shook the water off herself, then waved at the ocean and shouted, “Yo—! Thanks for the help this time!”
Woooo— In a deep, musical call, the sperm whale shot a column of water into the air, gave a farewell slap of its tail, and then dove back into the sea.
The farther the shockwaves spread, the weaker they got. But get too close to the epicenter, and you were in for a world of hurt. Jill Young had the right direction but terrible timing—those three massive shockwaves just now shattered their speedboat. After the shockwaves came endless whirlpools and currents, one deadly sea trap after another.
Luckily, at the crucial moment, the sperm whale rushed over and let the people cling to its head for support. Even the toughest martial artists run out of steam eventually—if you can’t find a solid spot to catch your breath, you’re toast.
"Everyone okay?" Maggie Monroe did a headcount. Two baldies, two pretty boys, four gals—yep, all here.
Howard Hopeless looked totally bummed. The cool, aloof young martial artist now had his clothes in tatters like a beggar. But after glancing at Duke Simon Duan, who was busy using internal energy to blast seawater out of his gut like a fountain, he felt better and shouted, “I’m fine!”
No boat, shipwrecked, stranded on a lonely island. The place was at least a hundred miles from the coast, and aside from Jill Young and Maggie Monroe, no one could honestly say they had the skills to swim back to the mainland. The situation was pretty dire, but when everyone looked up at the island ahead, all those worries vanished.
We’ve finally set foot on the legendary Mystic Isle!
They turned to the left, then followed the shoreline all the way to the right—Duke Simon Duan’s neck nearly twisted off from craning so hard. The island was huge, appearing and vanishing at will, which was just wild. Even stranger, it was lush with plants, and right ahead was a dense forest.
Just a casual glance revealed tree species from all corners of the earth, thriving together. A high-latitude cedar right next to a tropical coconut—this kind of botanical mashup was just mind-blowing.
“This island’s full of weird stuff. Everyone, be careful and don’t touch anything you don’t recognize,” Master Yideng said, eyeing Gabriel Yang’s face, which was turning pale again. “No time to waste—let’s move!”
“Yeah, let’s go!” Jill Young took the lead, hefting her Black Iron Sword, all fired up: “Mystic Isle adventure squad—move out!”
As they ventured deeper into the island, everything they saw blew their minds.
The island was roughly circular, with mountains, rivers, waterfalls, and lakes—forests, grasslands, cliffs, and ravines, you name it. Tiny as it looked, it packed every kind of terrain imaginable. Flowers from all over the world competed to show off, and Jill Young spotted dozens of different plant types without even trying.
She knocked an apple off a tree and tasted it—sweet and juicy. Dug up a ginseng root—top quality, amazing effects. The island had no animals, only plants. Anyone who knew medicine or herbs would think they’d died and gone to heaven. Mystic Isle was basically a giant herbal paradise.
They kept moving, picking rare and precious herbs along the way—just in case.
Besides the herbs, what really caught everyone’s eye were the martial arts inscriptions they kept finding.
By streams, on cliffs, even in random clearings, they’d spot stones carved with martial arts insights. The writing styles were all over the place—some ancient, clearly left by people ages ago, some from the early Spring and Autumn period, wildly varied and often unreadable.
The martial arts they could understand ranged from high-level to basic, but mostly just interesting or creative—nothing worth stopping to study in depth.
But as they pressed on, the martial arts got better and better. Finally, deep inside Mystic Isle, Jill Young found a series of connected caves. She ducked into the first cave and was greeted by bold, sweeping characters on the wall—‘Zhao guest with a long Hu tassel!’
‘Zhao guest with a long Hu tassel, Wu hook gleaming with frost and snow?’ Jill Young took it upon herself to educate the group: “That’s from Li Bai’s ‘Song of the Swordsman!’”