Gu Cai and Duoling were both young and inexperienced. The sudden death of their lifelong master left them utterly adrift, feeling lost and helpless. Only after my gentle persuasion did they finally quell their weeping and set about tending to Ruan Hei’s remains.

Uncle Ming watched me slip the finest South Pearl into Ruan Hei’s corpse’s mouth, and I could see a flicker of pain in his eyes. He paced around the body on the ground, but the situation precluded him from voicing his distress, so he forced himself to let go of the treasure. Yet, it seemed he had spotted something unusual. He suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me behind Gu Cai: “Brother Hu, look at this kid’s chest—is there something… something extraordinary about it?”

I watched Gu Cai kneeling there, tidying Ruan Hei’s body. He was bare-chested; Uncle Ming had ripped off his upper garment when we jumped in to save him. His torso was covered in an explosion of intricate, multi-colored tattoos—a magnificent, mystical tapestry depicting vast ocean waves, fish and dragons chasing fiery orbs, and complex underwater scenes. Tattoos were popular in the Nanyang region, but a full-body embroidery as exquisite as Gu Cai’s was rare. Still, I couldn't grasp Uncle Ming’s meaning. How could this youth, capable of wrestling whales and sea monsters underwater, merely be a pearl diver’s apprentice?

The thought struck me, and a chill ran down my spine. I asked Uncle Ming what he meant. Was there something wrong with Gu Cai? Uncle Ming leaned close and whispered, “I believe this boy, A’Cai, has an unusual background. He might be a Dragon of the Sea…”

Hearing this, I looked back at Gu Cai, then considered it again, feeling doubtful. Even if Gu Cai possessed extraordinary underwater skills, daring to fight whales and sharks, he was still flesh and blood, just a common man. How could he be a Sea Dragon? The race of Scaled Ones was mere legend whispered among fishermen and divers. Could there truly be a Scaled Tribe in existence? It felt like an absurd exaggeration. At most, this boy was just some visitor from the depths of the Atlantic, a fact I had noted long ago. Compared to the universally adored icon back in China, ‘Mike Hax,’ he was far inferior; he lacked that dashing, star-like appearance, instead being lean and dark, like a muddy eel. However, I estimated his diving talent was probably comparable to Michael’s—he was ‘a piece of wood floating over from the Atlantic.’

Uncle Ming insisted, “I wasn’t exaggerating just now. Regarding these two divers, A’Cai and A’Ling, we only know the general outline of their past. A’Cai is an orphan from an overseas Coral Temple Island. But don’t you find his tattoos incredibly strange? In my half-century navigating the great storms and oceans of Nanyang, I’ve never seen anyone fight a sword-wielding whale monster and return unscathed. Based on my experience, Uncle’s judgment, we are now trapped in a sea eye, and Gu Cai might be a great help. Perhaps he knows the skill of discerning water color to locate Dragon’s Lairs.”

Shirley Yang and I exchanged a look. Even so, we couldn't simply declare Gu Cai to be a dragon rather than a man. Shirley Yang mentioned that the method of reading water color to identify dragon residences was supposedly mastered by ancient Grave Shifters, but it had long been lost. Could Gu Cai truly know such an ancient art? He had only followed Ruan Hei as an apprentice; his skills in harvesting pearls and clams were learned from his master, yet Ruan Hei didn't seem to possess such arcane knowledge either.

Seeing our disbelief, Uncle Ming had to elaborate, revealing some little-known histories of the 'Dan' people. Uncle Ming was deeply knowledgeable about all maritime trades and understood the origins and paths of pearl divers. Though both Tomb Raiders and 'Dan' people belonged to the Seventy-Two Professions and had existed since antiquity, the main difference was that Tomb Raiders could assess the situation, retreat when necessary, whereas the Dan people were always engaged in ‘dead diving’—risking life for pearls, returning only in death. Their patron ancestor was the ‘Fisher King.’

The term ‘Dan people’ and the professional code for ‘pearl diving’ that we speak of today only began to form during the Ming Dynasty. The formal origin of the pearl diving profession predates the Ming Dynasty by far; its traditions and history are incredibly ancient. It is said that during the Qin and Han dynasties, there were Dragon People on the South Sea. They lived generation after generation on boats, naked and wild-haired, moving through the sea with utter freedom and ferocity. They were the best at diving for pearls, their bodies carved with fish and dragon patterns. Claiming descent from the Scaled Ones, they refused imperial dominion and sovereign rule.

Later, due to the increasingly harsh living environment, they were reluctantly brought under the court’s control and were called ‘Yán People’ (), tasked specifically with diving for pearls in the sea. The Yán People were the predecessors of the later Dan people. From childhood, they tattooed their bodies with intricate designs of fish, dragons, and the ocean. When diving, they went naked. This tattooing was rumored to be called the ‘Ocean-Penetrating Formation,’ causing vicious undersea creatures to mistake them for fellow aquatic beings, thus often sparing them harm. The Yán People had specialized constitutions, spending year after year, day after day diving and fishing beneath the waves, causing a thin membrane to gradually grow over their descendants’ eyes. In the surging underwater currents, the seabed felt to them like a wide, level street—as ordinary as a daily meal.

However, due to the ancient ruling classes’ excessive exploitation of the Yán People, coupled with the Yán People’s inherently savage and bloodthirsty nature and an innate rebelliousness, whether slaughtering whales, flaying sea dragons, or battling giant turtles in dragon lairs, they always faced death without fear. Thus, whenever they were pressed too hard by the government, they would take the desperate step of killing officials and rebelling. Generation after generation, they submitted, then revolted, then submitted again. Ultimately, their numbers were small, their power limited, preventing any major success. They were eventually hunted down and almost wiped out by the authorities, causing this ancient maritime race to gradually vanish completely. Yet, the Emperor and the nobility still required vast quantities of bright pearls. The work once done by the Yán People was taken over by the poor fishermen along the coast, slowly giving rise to the modern ‘Dan people.’

The Dan people’s skills and regulations closely mirror those of the ancient Yán People, essentially copying what they could. As the saying goes, 'A technique is only as good as its form'; the Dan people’s pearl diving is merely imitation. However, they failed to learn most of the unique abilities of the ancient Yán People; the difference in skill level is naturally worlds apart. Yet, the Dan people’s living conditions remain brutally harsh. Often under the strict surveillance of soldiers, with the blade constantly hanging over their heads, they are forced to attach stones to themselves and sink into the dangerous depths to harvest pearls—it is essentially nine deaths for every ten dives. Some Dan people, unwilling to hand over the South Pearls they risked their lives for, scrape the shells underwater and secretly swallow the pearls. But upon returning to the surface, if discovered, they face immediate disembowelment. Their limbs are tied, their stomachs split open, and their entrails are scoured from gut to anus before their corpse is thrown back into the sea to feed the fish. Most Dan people are the poorest of the poor, with no means to survive, or are exiled convicts. No one spares a thought for how many of them die.

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