Chapter 93 Descendants of the Sun

Serpent Script, the common language of the Kingdom of Steel Ridge, is also used in the Sapphire Grand Duchy as a vassal state.

Aside from Serpent Script, there are numerous other languages and scripts across the continent, such as Windtongue in the Eagle Kingdom, Rockrunes in the Kingdom of Blastfurnace, High Elvish in the Undying Radiant Empire, and Draconic in the Azure Dragon Empire, to name a few.

Lister's predecessor didn't know any foreign languages, so he couldn't read the strange script written above – in fact, upon closer inspection, it seemed more like distorted little figures than actual writing.

"Philip, Son of the Sun's Diary. It's an odd title. Old Phil, what language is this other script?" he asked curiously.

"I don't know, my lord. To be honest, I'm illiterate. This book was left behind by a native from Dodo Island, who was a dear friend of mine. We shared a dugout canoe, but he perished at sea, leaving only this book behind. I've kept it as a memento."

"A keepsake with sentimental value. I'll return it to you after I finish reading it."

"Oh no, my lord, it's an honor for Old Phil that you would show interest in his humble collection. Old Phil would be thrilled if you took it. Thank you, my lord, for now, business has improved significantly for Old Phil's leather workshop."

"Very well, I'll purchase it from you."

"Old Phil willingly offers it to the Lord as a token of respect."

"I accept your respect, but I will still pay you for it."

Lister returned to the castle with the journal in hand.

He instructed Carter to take out three silver coins and give them to Jesse. No book was worth more than three silver coins, but it held sentimental value as a relic: "Jesse, pass these three coins to Old Phil as payment for the book. Also, tell him that I enjoyed his stories and if he has any additions, he's welcome to share them anytime."

"Yes, sir."

After Jesse left, Lister didn't immediately open the book. Instead, he summoned the Smoke Mission.

Moments later, a faint wisp of smoke appeared before him, twisting into a serpentine script. To Lister's surprise and anticipation, the message was no longer the usual text.

It had transformed.

"The mission has changed."

The serpentine script persisted for a few seconds before the smoke distorted again, forming new words: "Mission: Unlike other Cordyceps that thrive in company, the Thorns Cordyceps yearns in solitude. It has already spent eight years and is approaching old age, yet it remains unfulfilled. Please provide nourishment for the Thorns Cordyceps. Mission reward, a new variant of Thorns."

Relieved, all that remained was excitement.

Initially, he had been tempted to provoke the Smoke Mission, declaring his independence from being controlled like a puppet. However, deep down, he was genuinely worried that such an act might cause him to lose the Smoke Mission - whether it was a golden finger or some hidden force, it was an existence he couldn't afford to reject.

Moreover, there was no need to reject it.

Up until now, the Smoke Quest had been nothing but beneficial, aiding his swift advancement – even if there was a hidden force behind it, he was powerless to resist.

If resistance was futile, then he might as well enjoy it.

To the point that some devious thoughts lingered in his mind: "If I can ride a dragon, what difference does it make if I sell myself to the hidden mastermind? As long as I'm granted wealth and luxury, I'd willingly be a loyal dog at your service!" There was no response, as the Smoke Quest sometimes had an indistinct presence.

Now it seemed clear.

While he could have a spat with the Smoke Quest, the Smoke Quest wouldn't hold a grudge against him; it remained consistent.

Furthermore, this proved that the quest rewards weren't forcefully fabricated by the Smoke Quest.

They already existed.

At most, the Smoke Quest merely facilitated events, nudging the threads of cause and effect and tweaking the course of time. Like a gentle breeze stirring the ripples on the river of destiny, whether they swirled left or right, they would eventually fall back into the stream, returning to tranquility.

"Perhaps someday, I'll understand the purpose of the Smoke Quest… For now, I'll relish in its advantages," he thought, casting aside his unnecessary worries with a broad-minded attitude.

What remained was sheer delight.

The reward for the new quest brought familiar words: "New Species."

There had been two previous "New Species" quests. The new variety of tulips resulted in the Black Tulip potion, and the new species of mushroom led to the Flame Fungus potion.

This time, with the new species of thorn, what kind of magic potion would it yield?

"It must be lacking nutrients, right? I'll have the serfs transport the compost tomorrow to provide ample nourishment for the thorn bug!"

The only regret was that the thorn bug had already lived for eight years, implying that it had only two years left.

"Seems like I need to figure out how to get another thorn bug… There's still a young one at Tulip Castle. Perhaps I should purchase it sometime soon." Thorn was merely a weed-like shrub, and the thorn bug was not particularly useful. Its price shouldn't be too expensive.

Lister waved his hand to dispel the lingering smoke of the Serpent Script.

He refocused his attention on Philip Sun Descendant's Diary: "Philip Sun Descendant, quite a majestic surname. My squire also goes by the name Philip, but his last name, 'Wool,' is clearly worlds apart from the author's when it comes to sophistication."

Flipping open the first page, one's gaze falls upon an abstract depiction of the sun.

Hand-drawn, the sun is not perfectly round; its surrounding rays are depicted with triangular strokes. Within the sun are various haphazard lines, resembling the scribbles of a seven-year-old.

It has the air of a child's doodle.

Beneath the drawing lies a passage in Serpent script, perhaps a poem:

"Upon my grandfather's back, this tattoo did lie."

"He told me that his father also had the same tattoo on his back."

"I asked him why my father didn't have it, nor did I," I continued.

"He said our ancestors have forsaken us, and we can no longer bear the symbol of the sun."

"I didn't understand what he meant."

"Grandfather said our people were exiled from our homeland to a land of wickedness, and we can only return after five hundred years."

"Fifty years later, great airships shall sail across the skies, returning for us under the sun's embrace."

"Fifty years have passed, yet the sky vessels have not come."

Read this poem.

Lister found it intriguing. The poem seemed to imply that the author's ancestors were a group of criminals exiled to Dodo Island for five hundred years. They branded a sun symbol on their backs as a mark of their lineage. However, the promised sky ships that were meant to retrieve them never arrived.

So, the author's grandfather felt abandoned and did not continue the tradition of tattooing his son.

"Thus, the descendants of the sun were born..."

"If the records are true, the native inhabitants of Dodo Island should be the descendants of great nobles from the continent. Only high-ranking nobles, especially royal descendants, would be exiled for their mistakes, while lesser nobles would simply be executed. With no habit of recording history, the royal family would likely forget about these exiled offspring after a century or so."

The first page contained a painting and a poem.

The second page held a preface.

"I am Philip, twenty-six years old, recently returned from working on an outer island. I have no intention of leaving again. Though the outside world is prosperous, life is hard. I plan to stay on Dodo Island, marry Valisha, and have a son whom I will raise. I am a carpenter and can build a grand house for him to live in!"

"From this day forth, I shall chronicle each passing day, so that when I am old, I will not fade like my grandfather, forgetting the tales of our origins. My son, through my journal, will come to understand the adventures his father once had."

"Yet, I possess but a limited supply of parchment and ink; I must conserve my words, yes, write smaller and more sparingly."

"Philip, Son of the Sun."