The scientists didn’t give up easily. For safety, they no longer tried to drive their boat right up to Lan Bo. Instead, divers carrying oxygen tanks and cameras entered the water from a distance, swimming toward the reef. Used to handling marine animals, even sharks posed no real threat to them.
The two divers wore protective chainmail and submerged with cameras, cautiously approaching.
This area’s red tide was worse than expected. Floating algae blocked sunlight from reaching the lower layers, oxygen was scarce, most coral was bleached or dead, and fish carcasses floated everywhere.
The divers pressed forward through the filthy, foul-smelling water. Scientists on the ship clustered around monitors, focused, taking notes. But the screens were obscured by murky water—visibility was near zero.
Suddenly, a shaft of light appeared in the filth. The water seemed divided by an invisible barrier. Outside remained polluted, but inside it was crystal clear.
The divers realized they had entered the purified zone created by the blue mermaid. The water was exceptionally clean, and even three meters away from the reef, they could see a small section of the mermaid’s tail tip in the water.
A three-meter-diameter cylinder of water, centered on the blue mermaid, had been completely purified—from surface to bottom. The reef area reached about twelve meters deep, forming a twelve-meter-tall cylindrical column of blue-green, glass-like water.
Scientists held their breath, occasionally marveling aloud: “Incredible. His tail glows, and the bubbles stirred by the water flow turn into swimming, living jellyfish.”
The sky darkened further, the last rays of sunlight blocked by clouds.
The scientists around the monitors erupted in awe: “Look at the glowing jellyfish gathering on the surface. The reef looks like a luminous island. When he swims, it’s like a shimmering galaxy.”
One scientist turned to the camera: “Our predecessors first observed him and called him ‘The Deep Sun.’ Today, that name seems entirely justified.”
The water was so clear that creatures above and below could clearly see each other. As the divers attempted to approach, they suddenly noticed the mermaid on the reef watching them.
Lan Bo sat there, bored, watching the two tiny humans cautiously floundering in the water, amusing himself.
The divers, caught in the gaze of those mesmerizing blue eyes, froze for a few seconds. Gaining courage, they surfaced slightly, pushing the camera closer to Lan Bo.
Lan Bo looked at them. His eyes lacked pupils and focal points, leaving the divers unable to tell if he was really observing them.
A gentle wave pushed the divers back, but seeing no hostile intent, they inched closer again, capturing a close-up of his scales.
Scientists onshore clenched their fists, observing the extraordinary appearance.
“It’s strange,” one said. “His upper body is wrapped in medical bandages—not present in recordings from seventy years ago. His back is smooth and slender. Maybe he got tangled in discarded human medical waste? Or perhaps he found the bandage and liked it. Bold speculation—could merfolk have textile skills, like the silk-weaving merfolk of Eastern myths?”
They didn’t dare rescue him hastily but hoped the divers could take a small bandage sample for study.
The divers carefully used tools to cut a small piece of the bandage from Lan Bo’s upper body.
Watching the live broadcast, Bai Chunian jumped up. “??? The bandages are the ones I got from the Medical Society! How dare they start taking his clothes off? These foreigners are going too far.”
Lan Bo lifted his tail slightly, sending a ripple through the water, and murmured ethereally: “Goon, bigi. (Go away, humans.)”
A wave knocked the divers underwater, the camera shaking violently. Yet they persisted, witnessing a scene they had never imagined.
From the distant deep sea, another mermaid alpha with a striking red tail swam toward the purified zone. The water he passed through became slightly clearer, but his purification ability was nowhere near Lan Bo’s.
Behind him came countless colorful merfolk. Their arrival slightly cleared the murky water, and hundreds converged on the blue mermaid, stopping at the edge of his clean zone, looking toward the king on the reef, like a sorrowful pilgrimage.
The red-tailed alpha surfaced, half of his muscular torso above water, but his body bore deep crimson claw marks, unhealed and whitening from saltwater exposure, forming a twisted face pattern.
A scientist familiar with merfolk explained: “These are marks of exile. When a mermaid incites the group’s anger, they are attacked fiercely. The claws and pheromones leave permanent scars. Exiled merfolk must leave their society and fend for themselves. Most die.”
Behind him, hundreds of merfolk drove the red-tailed alpha to the reef. The struggling mermaid crawled up the rock, pressing his body flat against its surface, utterly panicked as he bent to kiss Lan Bo’s tail tip.
“Siren, boliea kelak noliya niy. (Regarding what happened before, I am truly sorry.)”
“Kimo goon moya boliea glarbo. (Your absence has caused us great pain.)”
“Ief non kimo buligi, boliea chang milayer. (Without your nurturing, we could not survive—literally, we would remain infants.)”
“Cabean se mu ansi. (The Caribbean is utterly ruined.)”
“Boliea nowa abanda kimo. (We should never have exiled you.)”
“Fanlib kimo, boliea youyi. (Betraying you, I am guilty.)”
The scientists on the ship were stunned. Even with linguists specializing in merfolk language, they could only partially comprehend the meaning.
A British scientist murmured in awe, “He is waiting for his subjects to bring him back—a proud king.”
Lan Bo casually glanced at his nails and quietly asked, “Athie? (What do they say?)”
Hearing their king’s question, the merfolk in the water swam toward the shallow reef, surrounding Lan Bo. Each glimmered with a different colored light, gathering respectfully in front of him to kiss his tail tip.
“Siren,” they addressed him, “boliea fanloth. (We have been deceived.)”
Among them was an omega holding an infant, wrapped in wide seaweed swaddling adorned with shells stitched with jellyfish tendrils resembling lace.
The baby’s bright brown eyes blinked rapidly, shaking its short, stubby gray tail, reaching toward Lan Bo for a hug.
Lan Bo lifted a hand, gently covering the baby’s eyes with his palm.
Simultaneously, his tail coiled tightly around the red-tailed mermaid who had confessed, the electrified tip squeezing mercilessly. The red-tailed mermaid struggled, clutching the constricting tail, unable to cry out.
Lan Bo raised his powerful tail, suspending the mermaid in midair, thrashing violently, splashing water everywhere.
Bringing him before himself, Lan Bo’s claws extended, sharp as blades, tearing a crimson wound across the mermaid’s chest, severing bone and flesh—but sparing vital organs.
The next strike severed half of his tail.
The surrounding waters turned red with the mermaid’s blood. His body was torn into pieces, sinking slowly to the seabed. Lan Bo’s bandages were stained, crimson flowing through his fingers into the reef crevices. All merfolk nearby lowered their heads in silence.
Lan Bo removed his palm from the baby’s eyes.
When the baby opened its eyes again, they shimmered golden-orange, as if filled with tiny stars. Its small tail had grown about a foot longer, scales turning from gray to gold, fins hanging like delicate golden mist.
“Goon. (Go.)” Lan Bo said indifferently—
“Take me to see your current king. Let’s see how he’s running this kingdom.”
He leapt, tracing a streak of blue light through the air, diving lightly into the water, followed by the gathered merfolk.
The water he passed through visibly cleared. Seaweed disappeared, floating corpses sank to the seabed.
His tail churned quickly, releasing bubbles from which tens of thousands of glowing blue jellyfish emerged. As the jellyfish brushed past followers, their dull colors became brilliantly vivid. The waters they passed through were purified in equal measure.
The divers froze, forgetting they were still underwater. Scientists on the ship completely forgot themselves.
An elderly scientist slumped to the ground, tears streaming, removing his glasses to weep: “In my lifetime, I have never witnessed such grandeur.”
The live broadcast ended there. Bai Chunian remained frozen before the screen for a long time.
“Siren,” he whispered, tracing letters with his finger on the floor. “Is that his original name?”
During this time, Han Xingqian also drew conclusions, closing his notebook and pen: “It seems not all merfolk possess strong purification abilities. This power may very well come from Lan Bo himself.”
“I’m speculating about their leadership selection—whether a merfolk born with special abilities is elected leader, or whether one gains abilities after being chosen.”
“He must be exhausted,” Bai Chunian said lightly, sitting cross-legged, hands on his knees. “When he was with me, his expression wasn’t like this.”
“Enough, you don’t have to emphasize that,” Han Xingqian raised an eyebrow. “And no, you didn’t dress like that just to show off your mark—I know better.”
“I’ll apply to the president for an overseas mission,” Bai Chunian said, starting to draft an application. “South America, North America—doesn’t matter. No salary, willing to work overtime for free.”
Suddenly, his communications alert went off.
The detection station reported an unidentified helicopter approaching thirty kilometers from Aphid Island.
Bai Chunian immediately grew alert, picking up the communicator: “Level three alert. Air defense missiles ready. Security personnel in position. I’m on my way.”
“Understood.”
Bai Chunian arrived at the detection station in time. Operators fed him real-time air defense surveillance footage.
In the clear, cloudless sky appeared a white helicopter, painted like a cute rabbit head, its twin ears made into rotors, looking like a bunny waving as it flew toward them.
Bai Chunian: “?”