初次尝了销魂少妇

Chapter 711: Vannas Reputation

An eerie silence blanketed the area; the pervasive mist carried a distinct, nipping coldness. The vague shapes of man-made structures within the harbor blended obscurely with the distant landscape, shrouded under the cloak of fog, their forms indistinct and ghostly. The weak, yellow illumination trying to penetrate the fog offered little in the way of solace.

“Not a whisper to be heard…” Shirley, shivering from the cold mist, instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing them for warmth as she examined her surroundings, “Dog, can you detect any ‘human scents’?”

“Nothing living, just traces of the deceased, mingling with the rich, profound essence of the air,” Dog responded, his senses sharply attuned to his environment. A sinister, blood-red luminescence flickered within his empty eye sockets, “…the sensation of ‘home’ grows more potent, it’s not just in the air, but the ‘atmosphere’ too… it has a somewhat familiar tinge to it.”

Lifting his gaze, he peered into the fog-draped interior of the island, his tone laced with confusion, “There are elements here that remind me of my ‘home’, yet they’re also… different. I find it hard to articulate this peculiar sensation.”

“Dog, are these conditions similar to where you come from?” Shirley, clearly intrigued by something else, asked, “If so, your living conditions must be quite harsh. No wonder you mentioned that the shadow demons in your world resort to feeding on each other and stones…”

“I’m not fond of the vibe this place gives off,” Vanna declared, her expression tensing as she maintained a vigilant watch over their surroundings, speaking in a hushed tone, “It brings back memories of Frost back then…”

Shirley gestured dismissively: “The fog, the silent streets, the swelling mud, and the elemental clones that emerge without warning, right? I’m glad we’re all on the same page…”

Largely oblivious to the ongoing conversation, Duncan signaled to the sailors disembarking from the other two boats. After ensuring no ghost was in sight, he motioned for everyone to follow him towards the dim, yellowish glow that emanated from within the fog.

The eerie and unsettling ambiance heightened everyone’s alertness. Previously, they had envisioned encountering a myriad of dangers in this so-called “Holy Land” by the Annihilators. Their imaginations were filled with scenarios of encountering legions of fierce, armed heretics, innumerable traps, and grotesque flesh monsters conjured by demon worshipers, perhaps even a formidable fleet stealthily assembled by the Annihilation Cult poised to confront the exploration team amidst this mist…

Yet, the reality of an island utterly devoid of life was beyond any of their predictions.

Vanna reached behind her and retrieved her alloy giant sword, gripping it firmly—this mission had the luxury of ample preparation, so she wasn’t constrained to the hastily conjured ice swords of past expeditions.

Clutching her trusty “battle partner,” a weapon she knew as well as her own heart, Vanna felt a surge of comfort wash over her.

The sound of footsteps grew closer, and soon a young woman, her armor mirroring Vanna’s own design and a hefty sword strapped to her back, approached. Vanna’s memory jogged as she recognized the newcomer, the lead priestess from the “Tide,” a prestigious group leading the eleven sailors.

The young woman, her eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and slight confusion, neared Vanna. In an excited, hushed tone, she began, “You’re Vanna Wayne, aren’t you? The famed inquisitor from Pland, reputed to be the most formidable of all time…”

“…Famed inquisitor? That’s a new one to me,” Vanna replied, her eyebrows knitting together in a mix of surprise and modest embarrassment, “But yes, I’m Vanna Wayne. What can I do for you?”

The young priestess, her voice quick with enthusiasm, introduced herself, “I’m Amber. I’ve been hearing tales about your exploits for as long as I can remember… Like the time you heroically dove off a cliff to vanquish an evil god’s vile offspring threatening our city-state, or when you leaped from the cathedral’s highest point to confront and eliminate heretics bent on its destruction, and even that instance you plunged from the sea cliff lighthouse…”

Feeling overwhelmed at the barrage of exaggerated stories, Vanna hastily gestured for Amber to pause: “Hold on, my record isn’t quite as filled with leaps and heroic kills as the stories suggest—legends have a way of stretching the truth.”

Amber chuckled at Vanna’s modesty, then gestured to her own sizable sword, dwarfed only by Vanna’s massive alloy blade, “I’m training in your fighting style. My mentor claims it’s the most ancient yet effective technique in our storm swordsmanship… though I’ve got a long way to go before I reach your level…”

Vanna managed a stuttering response, “Ah, um… keep at it.”

Amber nodded energetically, her eyes filled with determination, then hesitated before asking, “But… how can I achieve strength like yours? Your battles are the stuff of legend… Are there any special training methods you use?”

Vanna’s face contorted into an awkward expression. She glanced over at Duncan, the captain, who seemed utterly disinterested in their exchange. After a brief pause, she offered: “Eat more meat.”

Amber’s face dropped: “…Ah?”

“And drink plenty of hot water, maintain a healthy sleep schedule, and live a disciplined life,” Vanna added, sensing her advice might seem underwhelming. After a moment of contemplation, she continued.

Amber’s expression morphed from confusion to shock: “That’s it?”

“Yes, and also, pray daily. Share your doubts and fears with the goddess, and don’t let the day’s worries linger until tomorrow,” Vanna advised with a nod, “And, one last crucial piece of advice—”

Amber leaned in, her face etched with seriousness, “The most vital thing?”

Looking earnestly into Amber’s eyes, Vanna paused before uttering with gravity, “Avoid making thoughtless promises when you’re idle. And if you’ve already pledged something, don’t let passion drive you to complicate it further. It’s a trap.”

Amber’s face once again looked puzzled, uttering a bewildered “…Ah?” But Vanna had already briskly moved away, leaving behind the somewhat awkward younger priestess. She closed the distance to Duncan, walking with her gaze cast downwards.

Duncan, who had been surreptitiously listening to the entire conversation, greeted her with a knowing smile as she approached. “Seems like you’ve got quite the fanbase, even after you’ve stepped back from the limelight and your inquisitorial duties.”

“…It’s something that happens now and then, especially back when I was more active in the city-state,” Vanna admitted, her voice low, sharing her minor frustrations she typically kept to herself with the captain, “And it never gets easier, no matter how often it occurs.”

Morris, who had been quietly observing, pulled out a pipe and placed it between his lips without lighting it. He offhandedly remarked, “And it’s always young women who seem most taken with her…”

Duncan gave Vanna a significant look, only to be met with her expression of complete surrender: “…Don’t stare… I can’t explain it either…”

What else could Duncan say? He found it quite remarkable that this formidable warrior even maintained a normal friendship with someone like Heidi… perhaps because Heidi is engrossed in her scientific pursuits?

In any case, Duncan was more amused than concerned—it was somewhat endearing to see Vanna, usually so composed and dependable, reveal a side of herself that was flustered and embarrassed.

At that moment, Shirley, who was walking along the other side of the group, suddenly stumbled, exclaiming in annoyance, “Ah crap!”

Dog, ever alert, quickly turned and used his chain to catch Shirley before she could fall, asking urgently, “What happened?!”

As Shirley regained her balance, she turned with a curse, “This damned road! I tripped over something…”

Her voice trailed off as her eyes widened in shock at whatever had caught her foot, her exclamation turning into a sharp intake of breath: “Damn!?”

The group’s attention swiftly focused on what had caused Shirley’s stumble.

Duncan too saw what had nearly caused her fall—it was an arm. But not just any arm. It appeared to be melded into the road as if the limb had grown from the ground itself, its texture resembling black, hardened mud shaped into a human arm!

Duncan’s eyes narrowed as he moved closer to inspect the strange arm. It was a segment of an upper arm, elbow, and forearm, its eerie, mud-like substance seamlessly integrated with the road as though it had indeed sprouted from beneath.

The disturbing sight led to an unsettling possibility—could a more complete body be buried beneath the road, connected to this disturbingly out-of-place arm?

Almost at the same time, Amber, the storm priestess walking not far away, also discovered something in the fog: “There’s something here too!”

What Amber found was a protruding torso from the road surface, connected to a partial head and an arm seemingly struggling to reach forward—the appearance of the arm and head was similar to the “human rough drafts” seen floating in the sea near the Holy Land Island by the joint fleet, pitch black like mud, lacking in detail and structure of limbs and facial features.

But the posture was enough to make one imagine the desperate, horrifying scene of this “human rough draft” struggling to crawl out of some material engulfing itself.

Duncan looked solemnly at the “embedded” body in the road, his mind already picturing the scene—the ground softening like mud, the owner of this body swallowed by the road beneath their feet, their body melting into another mass of mud, their frantic struggles slightly delaying the arrival of death, but after a brief and futile persistence, they were left here forever…

And the discoveries by Shirley and Amber were just the beginning.

Within just half a minute, the sailors who had expanded their search area found many more bodies… fused with the surrounding environment.