They were hospitable, simple, and friendly to the first batch of non-hostile tribal Colonizers.
It is said that without the help of the natives, the outsiders could hardly have established the first settlent in the Bantaan Archipelago.
In other words, under less developed material production conditions, the natives had not yet evolved the duplicity and treachery that only arise in complex social relations, appearing exceptionally naive.
Beast Tar Jefferson, who made the empirical error, was completely unaware that among all these people, he was actually the only naive one.
Hearing his claims about being granted a title of nobility, Byron and Violet couldn’t help but shake their heads inwardly.
If those Divine Position thieves are parasites on the Bayfolk, then these individuals are the tenacious claws and limbs clinging to the community. We certainly aren’t fortunate enough to be the lords of these people; it’s better to cut them all down quickly.
Refinery owner Togar Mon, however, maintained a sincere and good-natured expression. As he helped them tow their boat, he said politely, "Our ancestors have passed down the Bayfolk’s epics from generation to generation, often telling us about the holand. Since you all co from our holand, helping is naturally no problem at all. Moreover, your arrival is perfectly tid. The island is currently holding its annual Fish-Eating Festival, commorating the day our ancestors received the sea’s bounty, which allowed them to survive in the New Continent. Please be sure to participate."
Beast Tar Jefferson, of course, wouldn’t refuse such a small invitation and thanked him repeatedly, "Definitely, definitely. Thank you for your help. Although you are far from your holand, you are fully deserving of the title ’gentleman.’"
In a very harmonious atmosphere, the two boats began their return voyage to Black Tide Town, one following the other.
Byron, whose spiritual perception had beco exceptionally sharp after connecting with Violet, noticed a group of bizarre half-human, half-fish, half-frog creatures silently disappearing into the reflection of Black Tide Town in the depths of the water.
Clearly, the incident with the outsiders’ boat was no re accident but an attack by those strange creatures—or rather, the Ancient God’s Chosen Races.
He re-examined his host body’s mories but found little.
The mories of the townspeople contain the existence of Deep Sea Affiliated, but they seem to be strictly restricted by the Deep Dive Church, prohibiting communication. The townspeople have no concept of what the world of the Kin is like, only an eternal, unchanging longing for the Kin, instilled day after day by Dagon’s continuous brainwashing.
Violet pouted in her Dream Realm.
What else could they communicate? Let those followers still in their incubation stage see that the so-called Kin are rely their own pitiful forms after being corrupted by a God and devoured by Beastliness? Apart from Transcendents, who can truly achieve a transformation of their Life Essence, ordinary people without Spirit Awakening who still retain the ability to speak after becoming Kin... they must be considered extrely rare lucky ones. Most are just cannon fodder-like Beasts.
While they were conversing, the two boats had already returned to the docks of Black Tide Town.
Beast Tar Jefferson and the crew of the adventure ship saw the dazzling array of Whale Oil technology in the town, as well as a Leviathan Whale they had only seen in Pirate King intelligence reports. A spark of avarice flickered in their eyes.
Their gaze towards the townspeople also beca subtly different.
The original order to leave half the crew to guard the ship in case of ergencies changed to, "Grab your weapons! Everyone ashore!"
The ancestors of these residents had left the Old Continent hundreds of years ago. Even the foundation of their phonetic language had changed drastically. They probably couldn’t recognize what these iron tubes were, just like those natives.
All of this was observed by Byron and Violet, who internally shook their heads.
One look confird it: none of these people were good. It just remained to be seen who was more skillful in the end.
At this mont, in the brightly lit central square of the town, the "Fish-Eating Festival" celebration, filled with singing and dancing, had already begun.
A large pool filled with seawater had been constructed in the center of the square, though its purpose was unclear. Additionally, not a single person over forty years of age could be seen in the crowd.
The outsiders rely thought this was a unique festival custom and found nothing odd about it.
The other townspeople, seeing the arrival of guests, were all very hospitable, readily making room for them.
Refinery owner Togar Mon enthusiastically explained to the adventurers, "Our ancestors ca to the New Continent by accident hundreds of years ago. They struggled to survive on barren islands, mainly relying on the Fishing Industry. Once, because the rainy season brought relentless storms for several months, they had no way to go out to sea. Just when everyone was on the verge of starvation, a fish larger than any Whale beached itself on the shore. The ancestors believed it was a gift from the God of the sea. They ate the fish with imnse gratitude. Later... well," he chuckled, "to show our gratitude to the God, our people established the tradition of the Fish-Eating Day. The festival is held once a year and lasts for half a month, during which we eat fish. Actually, fish is our staple food year-round; it’s just particularly abundant during this period. To be honest, no matter how good fish is, one eventually gets tired of it. It’s truly not easy to encounter so special ’catch’ during this season, you know."
As he spoke, he couldn’t help but swallow, then pointed towards a long table in the center, ford by many smaller tables pushed together, and began introducing the dishes one by one.
Raw fish, boiled fish, grilled fish, smoked fish, cured fish, fried fish... every conceivable cooking thod was present.
User Comments
0 comments from readers