Shrouded Seascape

Charles soon made his way to the bottom, and his expression became solemn when he turned to the right. A neat-looking modern bedroom was to the right amidst the ice.

The simple ceiling, the wallpaper depicting a forest, and the smooth bed sheets told Charles that things were far more complicated than he initially assumed.

I previously thought those humanoid fissures had frozen this place because the Foundation was hiding something they needed to hide, but it seems that I'm wrong; they froze the entire SITE 6 to repair it surreptitiously!

Without a doubt, this was bad news. The deep sea monsters of the Subterranean Sea couldn't possibly do something as complex as these, so the ones doing the repairs were definitely the Foundation's maintenance workers!

It seemed that the reconstruction was ongoing. In other words, the Foundation was still around; they hadn't been annihilated! The existence of the Foundation's previous generation was a great danger to both Charles and the Subterranean Sea.

If they were allowed to rise from the ashes, the Subterranean Sea would be utterly doomed!

"Blow this up for me!" Charles commanded. Hundreds of divers rushed down, dragging powerful bombs with them.

They carved out holes in the eye and shoved explosives in them before igniting those explosives. In no time, the final stretch of SITE 6 was blown up into two sections, accompanied by the churning of the icy cold seawater.

Charles couldn't even be bothered to wait for the silt to settle as he rushed forward and saw a cavern the size of a football field amidst a dense network of pipes strewn across the seafloor.

The traces left in the cavern told Charles that something or perhaps someone inside had made a frantic escape!

Aliya possessed excellent investigative skills, and she moved quickly to the traces, examining them carefully. "Governor, the silt covering these traces tells me that these traces are at least a month old."

Charles' expression became stern upon hearing the report. Then, his legs moved swiftly, propelling him upward. If what was inside the cavern had already escaped a month ago, there was no way they could catch up to it now.

They had to think of another way to isolate it.

Soon, Sottom was whisked away, and it teleported toward island after island throughout the Sea of Mist. They captured the clones of the Foundation members, who had miraculously survived the ordeal on that day and had settled in the nearby islands.

The clones of the Foundation members had a wide age range—from infants unable to walk to elderly people with canes. To make matters worse, there was something strange with their minds.

However, Charles knew that their minds were normal for people under 004's influence. He couldn't really care less whether they were lunatics or not; they just had to have a functioning brain.

Anna wasn't around, so Sparkle was responsible for scanning their brains for any useful information. To Charles' disappointment, however, the clones knew nothing about the Foundation's contingency plan.

There was a high chance that these clones simply didn't have a high enough clearance to know about the Foundation's secret contingency plan.

Bang, bang, bang!

Gunshots rang out, and a row of clones fell to the ground. Rather than fear, the remaining clones showed only grief and fury at the sight, and they cursed nonstop at Charles.

When the clones' cursing ceased, the smell of blood, gunpowder, and the salty sea breeze in the air created a repulsive stench. A staffer from Hope Island Customs couldn't withstand the stench and vomited right there and then.

The staffer's colleague glanced nervously in Charles' direction before hurriedly helping his colleague lest he incur the governor's displeasure.

Charles took a deep breath with his brows knitted tightly. The leads had run dry. It was unknown what had escaped nor where they had decided to seek refuge. How were they supposed to find them at this point?

Ignoring them was not an option. They were talking about the Foundation here rather than some random indigenous organization in the Subterranean Sea. If the Foundation were allowed to grow, the humans of the Subterranean Sea would surely face another catastrophe in just ten years.

The Foundation's level of technology made Charles feel very certain about his assumption.

"Do you want me to look for them in the sea? I've gotten quite fast at that," Sparkle asked.

Charles was a bit tempted, but he still shook his head and said, "Forget it. The seafloor is vastly different from the surface. Who knows what's in those unexplored depths? If you end up bumping into other gods, things are going to become troublesome."

A trace of dissatisfaction appeared on Sparkle's face as she replied, "Aren't you underestimating your daughter a bit too much here? You won't let me do this or that. Since you're not going to let me do anything anyway, then you better come up with a solution yourself."

Charles covered his head with his hand, and his thoughts were inscrutable as he stared at the explorers throwing the corpses of the Foundation members' clones into the cold seawater.

"Dad, just let me go and do it. The gods of the Subterranean Sea can't hurt me at all, and there is no enmity between us. Why would they want to harm me? There's no other solution than this."

"Dad, are you listening to me?" Sparkle asked, raising her fingers and waving them in front of Charles.

And that was when Sparkle saw her father's eyes light up. "I just remembered having an acquaintance in the Southern Seas. It might have an idea where they went, but I don't know if that acquaintance of mine is still alive."

Sparkle put a hand on Charles, and the two teleported away. They teleported several times until they arrived at what remained of the Shattered Heart Isles.

The surviving Haikors were repairing their boats and praying to their god, T6.

Charles didn't bother disturbing them, as he had come here for someone else.

Charles dove into the seawater and found the ruins of the Prophet's temple. His last visit here was to rid himself of the Divinities Curse through the jellyfish prophet's information.

In no time, Charles found a tilted black hole that once housed the pool where the Prophet resided. As soon as he entered the hole, he was plunged into darkness.

Charles' excellent night vision allowed him to see even in the darkest of places, but there was something amiss with this place. He couldn't see anything at all.

"Prophet? Are you still alive? I'm here to ask you something," Charles asked, staring at the seemingly boundless darkness in front of him.

There was no response. Just as Charles thought that this would be a wasted trip, a translucent purple jellyfish the size of a finger appeared before him with a pop.

"Ah, Charles, or should I say, the Esteemed Governor of Hope Island? Time is truly often useful for humans. Anyway, why did you come here?"

Charles was delighted to hear that unique, ethereal voice in his head. After all, it only meant one thing—the Prophet was still alive.

"Since you're called a prophet, you must know everything that's happening in the Southern Seas, right?"

Just then, more jellyfish blooms manifested, and they orbited Charles. "Know everything? I can't say that. There are some things that are ever-changing, and I don't dare claim that I know them."

"I'm not here to play riddles with you. I just want to know one thing—the location of the Foundation's remnants. I need to know where they are."

The circling jellyfish blooms stopped. "The Foundation? What's that?"

"Don't give me that nonsense. The gods of the Haikor Tribe are members of the Foundation. You've been in the same sea region with them all this while, and you dare say to me that you are unaware of them?"

"Ah, you mean Paiper and the others? I'm familiar with them. Not only am I familiar with them, but I'm their friend as well. Sometimes, they'd even invite me to their home as a guest.

"Sigh, it is unfortunate, but they provoked Destiny. I tried to persuade them not to do it, but they wouldn't listen at all."

"Destiny? Is that 004's name?" Charles asked, immediately latching onto a certain keyword in the Prophet's response.

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