547 Source of Familiarity

547 Source of Familiarity

Confusion enveloped her.

“In the Fourth Epoch Trier, what did you see or hear that we didn’t?”

Everyone had been together unless it was before they met, but Jenna should have been aware!

Without pausing for Lumian’s response, Franca contemplated for a moment and suggested, “Could it be the aftereffects of using the Eye of Truth?”

She recalled Lumian’s abnormal behavior during that time.

“Yes, that’s right.” Lumian nodded, pulled up a chair, and settled down. He described the collision of two rocks, sparks flying, and the ensuing blaze that engulfed dry leaves and withered branches, amid echoing voices chanting “Celestial Master.”

The more Franca listened, the more her focus intensified. Uncharacteristically, she refrained from interrupting.

As she listened, her gaze gradually shifted, seemingly lost in reminiscence and distant thought.

Once Lumian finished recounting, Franca remained motionless for what felt like an eternity, frozen like a mechanical doll paused mid-action.

After several seconds, she abruptly straightened up, pinched her nose, and forced a smile.

“As anticipated, the Celestial Master is part of our world.

“The fragments of civilization you received bear a striking resemblance to some aspects of my country’s history, yet there are differences… Could it be the true history concealed beneath the surface?

“The Celestial Master is attempting to interfere and breach into this world, wielding significant influence over the Mystery Pryer and Savant pathways, much like the way the Celestial Worthy affects Seers, Apprentices, and Marauders?

“Could the depravity among some of the monks in the Deep Valley Cloister and the peculiar state of the Hidden Sage be linked to the Celestial Master?”

Franca’s thoughts crystallized as she spoke, her eyes sparkling like a serene lake.

“That’s my hunch too,” Lumian concurred with Franca.

Franca rose and paced, seemingly alone, contemplating how to follow this trail and unveil the truth behind the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society’s transmigration.

After a few minutes, she muttered to herself, “The connection between the two worlds is stronger than I expected. It’s not just through the River Styx…

“We should still be able to find many traces of the interaction between the two worlds…”

“When we grow stronger and amass enough gold, I want you to summon Chen Tu again, the Armored Shadow. He should possess some insight into the Celestial Master.”

Franca lapsed into silence once more, her mind retracing an unknown memory.

A few moments later, she produced four brass metal plates and handed them to Lumian.

“The Language Comprehension charms you wanted. The one with the most intricate patterns allows you to understand the languages of the Southern Continent. The others are for the ancient Feysac language family. The activation incantation is the word ‘knowledge’ in ancient Hermes.”

She and the Bear had completed the delivery through Madame Hela’s messenger. The other party proved quite efficient.

After Lumian handed Franca the money, he “teleported” out of Trier and back to Port Santa.

In the hushed aftermath, Jenna cautiously opened the bedroom door and stuck her head out.

“Has Lumian left?”

“Yes,” Franca replied, her emotions subdued.

Jenna glanced at her but didn’t press for more information. Instead, she redirected the conversation to the stack of information related to the underground tomb.

Late at night.

Franca returned to her room.

Glancing at the small analyzer, the accompanying typewriter, and the radio transceiver, she didn’t sit down to chat as usual. Instead, she climbed into bed.

Sitting in the middle of the bed, leaning against the pillow, hugging her legs and curling up, Franca’s gaze unfocused on the crimson moon and stars outside the window.

Lumian’s words today plunged her into nostalgia, but the more her emotions fluctuated, the less she wanted to reveal vulnerability. She endured it, pretending to have recovered.

Only when solitude enveloped her, as the night fell silent and the seemingly eternal stars adorned the sky, did she shed her thick “armor” and sink deep into her emotions.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Franca lowered her head, burying her face between her knees.

That night, she delved into a multitude of dreams. Broad shoulders carried her as a child, a touch of white hair at the temples, dishes not particularly delicious but always suited her tastes. Pure emotions of her youth, memories of being the “atmosphere livening machine,” and her “broadminded” self all danced in fragmented sequences…

As her two decades unfolded in her dreams, she unknowingly opened her eyes, feeling the coldness on her face. Reluctant to move, she lingered in the moment.

Suddenly, a recollection struck her.

Back on the fourth level of the catacombs, she and Jenna had encountered a man who seemed strangely familiar.

Initially, she believed that the original owner of her body had encountered him. Now, the reason for his familiarity became clear.

The man bore an uncanny resemblance to someone from her home country before transmigration!

Despite altering his appearance to thwart immediate recognition, Franca was now certain that his facial features differed from those she had encountered in this world. Softer, less chiseled!

…

After breakfast, Lumian stepped into the master bedroom’s washroom and retrieved a low-level Language Comprehension charm from his Traveler’s Bag.

“Knowledge,” he whispered in ancient Hermes.

The brass-like charm ignited with bluish-green flames and swiftly vanished.

Instantly, Lumian felt an abnormal clarity in his mind, as if an avalanche of additional knowledge had flooded in, unveiling the structural origins and connections of numerous words.

Today’s agenda: a visit to the oldest fishing village, perhaps meeting the Governor of the Sea. Mastering Highlander in secret seemed imperative to avoid missing crucial clues!

The charm’s effects would last for seven days.

Leaving the bedroom, Lumian took Ludwig and Lugano to 21 Saint Lana Street in a rental carriage, where they met Martha, the matriarch of the Paco family.

Martha didn’t look like she was in her sixties, with only faint wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, appearing more in her early fifties based on her eyes, nose, mouth, and brows. Her features retained a unique charm.

At that moment, the old lady with grayish-black hair and light-blue eyes wore a black, widow-like dress and a dark, old-styled bonnet. Pale-faced, she was supported by two young maids as they boarded a four-wheeled, four-

seater carriage.

“Monsieur Berry, I’ll be relying on you,” Rubió Paco nodded at Lumian beside the carriage.

He was to accompany his mother to Milo Village to meet the Governor of the Sea.

Lumian directed Ludwig to Giorgia.

“Please keep an eye on him until I return from Milo Village.”

Rubió translated this time.

Giorgia smiled and replied, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure there’s plenty of food.”

She had already realized that this boy had the appetite of two or three adults, but as the godson of a great adventurer, it was understandable that he was special.

Lumian wasn’t concerned about Ludwig’s treatment in the Paco household. He feigned his understanding of Highlander and waited for Lugano’s translation before saying, “A meal every two hours.”

With that, he sat on the right side of the carriage driver and didn’t enter the carriage. Seeing this, Lugano had no choice but to choose the seat to the left of the carriage driver.

Before doing so, he diligently translated Lumian’s final instructions.

Although he didn’t know what would happen if Ludwig starved, he felt that it wouldn’t be good, so he emphasized it twice.

As the carriage set off, Giorgia processed the translation.

“A meal every two hours? Two hours?”

The Paco family’s carriage rolled along the grayish-white stone-paved street. Lumian leaned against the carriage wall, retracted his right leg, and stepped on the edge of the carriage driver’s seat.

Lugano glanced at him, feeling a bit uneasy.

A seasoned bounty hunter, Lugano sensed something awry in this seemingly ordinary mission that prompted Rubió to assist his employer in hiding in Milo Village.

His heart raced as he observed armed pedestrians on the street, fearing an imminent attack from the crowd.

Under the October sun still blazing in Port Santa, the streets, damp from the previous night’s heavy rain, hadn’t completely dried. Lugano yearned to reach Milo Village quickly.

Glancing at Lumian, he noticed that Lumian had narrowed his eyes. Lowering his straw hat, Lumian seemed to be peacefully napping, showing no signs of nervousness.

Phew… With a powerhouse like him around, there shouldn’t be a problem… Lugano silently reassured himself.

The carriage headed north, leaving Port Santa and reaching a village nestled against the Dariège mountain range, overlooking the azure sea.

Fishing boats set off, accompanied by the resonant singing and chirping of seabirds.

Milo Village’s buildings exuded a historic feel. Brown, yellow, and beige stone-brick outer walls, blackened at the lower half, gave them character. Though the wooden components had been replaced, weeds still clung.

A small cathedral belonging to Earth Mother stood near the mountain, and facing the fishing village dock was the Governor of the Sea’s residence.

The four-story building, with a white backing and gray bricks, resembled a cathedral and a sacrificial ground more than a human residence.

As they arrived safely at their destination, Lugano sighed in relief and jumped off the carriage. Two maids supported Madame Martha as they headed toward the Governor of the Sea’s building, accompanied by Rubió Paco.

Suddenly, Lugano heard his employer’s voice.

“Take a look at what’s wrong with that old lady.”

Uh… Lugano glanced at Lumian, who had appeared beside him, wearing a golden straw hat. He raised his hand and gently tapped his forehead, activating his Spirit Vision.

Observing Madame Martha’s back for a few seconds after she entered the Governor of the Sea’s residence, he frowned and said, “Most notably is the excessive loss of blood and weak vitality…”

Lugano hesitated before concluding, “It doesn’t look like illness. It looks more like an injury.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by Aunomay Read