Standing behind the door was a man bare-chested, with a fierce, turquoise sea serpent tattooed across his arms. Short, red streaks of paint were applied on either side of his cheeks, across his chest and abdomen, in groups of three. Indeed, there was a distinct foreign flair—though wouldn't it be too conspicuous, drawing the police right at the entrance? You're supposed to be a covert resistance force, aren't you? As Caine was about to shift his gaze, the man's coarse brows and cold, animal-like eyes nearly made him furrow his own. He had surely killed many people—Caine made this intuitive assessment. To be frank, initially, due to his previous life's identity and perspective, he had held deep sympathy for the resistance fighters against colonial rule, with no sense of self-consciousness about the Luon people. But upon learning that the resistance overlapped almost entirely with the followers of the sea deity, Kavitova, his attitude had shifted to one of caution and even resistance. This does not mean discrimination against local beliefs; rather, according to his understanding, the traditional beliefs of all colonial islands remain at a primitive ritual stage, emphasizing blood offerings and living sacrifices, and are thus quite underdeveloped. Moreover, based on the Emperor's experience and my own, the extraordinary essence of this world inherently contains elements of madness and distortion—so the "deities" still operating at the primitive ritual level are fundamentally incapable of countering this trend, and their situation is easily imagined. Kline remained silent, following Daniz from the side and rear, as he entered the room. "Edmonton, who is it?" a calm voice came from the position by the window. The tattooed man said as he closed the door, "They've disguised themselves." At that moment, Kline had already taken in the full situation within the room and gained a preliminary understanding. The living room was modest, with only a cabinet, a table, and a few chairs, making it feel cramped. On the right, there are two doors leading to what appears to be a bedroom area; on the left, a "kitchen" is defined by a series of cabinets. As for the bathroom, there is none—when Crane ascends the stairs, he notices that at each floor's stair corner, there is a shared bathroom, its long-unwashed scent lingering, urging pedestrians to hurry up and enter the building. Directly ahead, there is a window with two bamboo poles extending outward, drying a variety of garments. At the entrance to the bedroom and within the living room, four or five men are either standing or seated—local residents with darker complexions and wavy black hair. They wear deep-blue Talarab shirts, with varying amounts of red paint applied to their exposed skin. The sea-serpent tattoos, however, are obscured by their clothing, and Crane cannot discern whether they are present. Some carried revolvers at their hips, others held sturdy, brown-hued hunting rifles with stocks, and some even bore gray-white steel backpacks, wielding long, high-pressure steam rifles, forming a semi-encircling posture toward the newcomers Daniz and Klein. The man who had just questioned them sat in a wheelchair, in his forties, with a blanket draped over his knees and wearing a jacket. He had a shaved head, with pale beard on both cheeks, and deep brown eyes that remained calm and composed, showing little emotion. He glanced at the visitors and slowly smiled: "Flame." Daniz paused, forcing a smile: "Karat, your eye for detail is indeed sharp." Damn it! My makeup and costume work really that bad? He mentally stormed this thought. Karat didn't acknowledge Daniz's somewhat insincere praise, but instead chuckled warmly: "Heard you killed 'Steel' and 'Bloodthorn'?" "Otherwise, how would they have died?" Daniz replied without hesitation. Karat narrowed his eyes, gradually shifting his gaze to the man with a plain, unremarkable face—Cline. He was well aware that even with the fiery strength of Daniz, it would have been difficult to defeat either the steel-willed Mewtih or the blood-red thorned Hunter Hentley. The fact that the man had succeeded, he knew, was due to the assistance of a powerful adventurer and an experienced bounty hunter. Was it this one beside him? Karat studied Cline's eyes, noting no signs of tension, concern, or alertness—his gaze instead deep and oceanic. Likely—perhaps even stronger than Daniz! He gave a subtle signal to Edmundton and the others, subtly raising his guard. "What do you want?" Karat cut off the previous topic. Daniz glanced at Cline instinctively, then responded upon seeing a firm nod. "We'd like to see what you have." Karat pointed to the table. "It's all there." There were numerous items of unusual shapes arranged there, including bone-made whistles, simple and rough wind instruments, dark-iron-colored leaves, and stones stained with blood. Before克莱恩and达尼兹could examine them, Karat raised his hand and said, "I have a task. 'If you complete it, you may freely select any one of these items—no cost, no obligation.'" He smiled and added, "According to your definition as outsiders, they are not magical items, but each possesses some supernatural power that gradually diminishes, though not too quickly, until it fades away." "What task?" asked克莱恩calmly, making no effort to conceal the fact that达尼兹was merely a subordinate. Karat reached into the blanket at his knees and produced a stack of white sheets: "Find them. 'If you can capture them directly, you will receive even greater rewards.'" He raised his arms and began displaying a series of lifelike portraits, among them a woman with gray-blue eyes wearing a man's shirt. Latricia Dorilla... Caine immediately recognized the person the resistance was seeking. That was the female archaeologist and adventurer he had met the previous night and had traveled with this morning—possibly a member of the "Moss Monks" or the "Elemental Dawn." Darniz studied her for a few seconds, vaguely feeling a sense of familiarity. Suddenly, it struck him where he had seen her before: Germain Sparo had shown her to him in a dream! He had only asked the captain about it in the afternoon and had encountered this event by evening—how remarkable is his ability to gather intelligence! Darniz held back his impulse to glance at the nearby frenzied adventurer, fearing that Karat and Edmonton would notice his unusual behavior. In this regard, he still had considerable experience. The rebel forces who believe in the "Sea God" are searching for Laticia... The faith in the "Sea God" spreads throughout the Rosted Islands, including Ximim... Snakes appeared last night... The image of the "Sea God" is that of a massive sea serpent. Klein overlaid these two events and quickly formed an initial judgment: The archaeologist Laticia and others had obtained a significant artifact related to the "Sea God" within an ancient temple forgotten deep in the primeval jungle of Ximim island, which explains both the recent inquiries and the rebels' search. Klein thought for a moment, then gave a perfunctory reply: "I'll keep an eye out." I won't get involved in this matter concerning the spirits at random—of course, if it becomes necessary, I'll report it... He silently added two more thoughts to himself. Karad nodded. "You take a look and see what you'd like." As Klein approached to begin selecting and asking questions, he suddenly felt a sense of intuition and instinctively turned toward the right side of the pile of items. There was a short sword crafted from a slender bone, slightly longer than the forearm, with a pale, milky hue and several deep, dark red patterns. It stirred my inspiration... Caine extended his right hand, attempting to pick up the pointed bone sword and examine it closely. As his fingers first touched the sword, sudden, desperate cries of anguish echoed in his mind, a rich, thick scent of blood rose subtly to his nostrils, and before him, phantom figures twisted and decayed, enveloped in viscous mucus. Caine's forehead grew sharp with pain, as though pricked by needles, and he instinctively withdrew his fingers. Quite eerie... not merely an ordinary object... Caine's expression only registered a subtle shift. He held back the impulse to open his spiritual vision, afraid of seeing what he ought not to. Noticing this, Carath and Edmundton exchanged a glance and smiled, speaking in unison: "This bone sword can absorb the enemy's blood—it's quite good. Would you like it?" A bit proactive... Caine furrowed his brow slightly, then relaxed, and said in a steady tone: "No, here there's nothing I'm looking for." If Carath hadn't asked, he had intended to purchase the bone sword and bring it to Gray Mists for study. But Carath's proactive offer had immediately made him cautious, prompting him to abandon his original plan. Carath clasped his hands together and said: "It's not expensive. 'Or shall we take a look at the others?'" "No," Caine's pupils narrowed, and he turned immediately, heading toward the door. Danyz hesitated and quickly followed. Edmundton, whose arm bore a sea serpent tattoo, watched silently, as though ready to reach out and intervene at any moment—but ultimately took no action. A powerful adventurer who had defeated "Steel" McVitt and "Bloodthorn" Huntley! After stepping out of the room, Caine said nothing, simply hurried down the stairs. Daniz quickly followed, feeling an inexplicable sense of alarm. He assessed the situation without asking questions, merely moving forward. Soon they reached the square, where the crowd—once gathered in prayer or prostration—began to scatter again. But unlike before, one man remained on his knees, motionless. Caine looked straight ahead, passing him without a pause. Daniz glanced at him instinctively and noticed the man’s face was dry as if weathered by time itself. *Plip!* A piece of flesh suddenly detached from the man’s cheek, carrying with it a patch of beard skin, landing on the ground with a grayish hue. The man seemed to have lost all his moisture. Daniz was startled and no longer dared to look around, sensing that something had grown strange and perilous. Together, they walked through the streets, leaving the district behind, and boarded a hired carriage. The driver was clearly a native, in his forties, cheerful and pleasant to look at. Yet along the way, he said nothing at all, silent enough to make Daniz feel as though his heart were drumming. Caine pressed his lips together, equally silent. The hired carriage arrived swiftly at the dock district, as Daniz needed to change his appearance and thus stopped it some distance from the Rue de l'Acide de Citron. Upon alighting, Caine did not pay for the ride nor linger—he simply walked off briskly, leaving Daniz momentarily stunned. He handed the driver two sols and hurried after Germán Sparo. After taking a few steps, he unconsciously glanced back and saw the driver kneeling down with fervor and devotion, bowing low to the ground, weeping and kissing the very spot where Caine had just stepped.