I couldn't help but smile at the thought from last night, finding myself unconsciously walking towards the harbor.

The sea was calm, and because it was winter, even with the bright sun, the colors seemed deeper than in summer.

The sea breeze carried the chill of melting snow, stinging my cheeks.

I touched my *face and marveled at the Atlanteans; even though I was currently disguised as a *, I could still feel the nuances of temperature, a world apart from wearing a *.

At the same time, I began to worry—would I remain like this, forever trapped as a *, unable to return?

Recalling last night in the restroom when I couldn't shed this disguise, a wave of panic washed over me.

Gritting my teeth, I secretly vowed that if this human skin didn't come off after the mission was complete, I would take a knife and slice it away, just to see if that white, tongue-like thing would feel any pain.

"I am who I am, a firework of a different color." To lift my spirits, I started singing a Leslie Cheung song toward the distant ocean.

Unexpectedly, this somewhat mad behavior was caught red-handed.

I had barely sung two lines when someone suddenly clapped me on the shoulder, nearly making me swallow my own tongue.

I choked on my saliva and erupted into a violent coughing fit.

Once I managed to recover, I turned my head and saw a cold yet beautiful face staring at me.

"You sing quite well," said the beautiful woman, who turned out to be Long Jia, with a cold sneer.

I was momentarily flustered, annoyed that even she had come to tease me.

Taking a breath, I asked her, "What? Do you need me for something?"

Long Jia didn't answer. She circled me twice, scrutinizing me from head to toe.

Her gaze made me uneasy, but I maintained a facade of calm as I looked back at her.

"You..." Long Jia hesitated for a moment, then said, "Never mind."

I thought to myself, could this girl have seen through my disguise?

If I were exposed, it would be disastrous, so I quickly changed the subject. "What's up? Have you deciphered the skullcap I brought back?"

Long Jia shook her head. "No. The glyphs on it are an ancient form of the Wu script, called Yin script; it's not easy to crack. However, I discovered that this item isn't just a skullcap; it has another purpose. Can you tell me where you obtained this thing?"

Not just a skullcap, then what could it be? I mused internally.

I knew there was no point in hiding the truth now, so I recounted to her how I opened the golden coffin and discovered the skullcap.

Long Jia frowned upon hearing this, murmuring, "That doesn't sound right. I feel like this item was meant to be a lid for some kind of vessel, like a bottle or a jar. Because the text recorded on this skullcap is only a portion of it; the rest should be written on the body of the vessel it was attached to."

"A lid for a bottle or a jar?" After a few seconds of stunned silence, a sudden flash of insight hit me.

I remembered that when the middle-aged man who was the King of Durban died, his flesh was harvested by the Atlanteans and placed into five jars, ultimately becoming the so-called True Gods.

Could this skullcap be the lid for one of those jars?

But if that were the case, it should have been discarded on the burnt-down lighthouse, not inside the golden coffin.

The tomb chamber where I found the golden coffin was filled with relics of a mysterious ancient person who looked remarkably like me, and this skullcap must be related to that individual.

Initially, I assumed the skullcap belonged to the coffin's occupant, but looking back, that might not be the case; it could have simply been something the occupant took into the coffin upon death.

Why would the coffin's owner want this item buried with him?

Here, I had a bold theory: the ancient person who resembled me so closely was either one of the four True Gods or the person born from the fifth jar! That would explain why he considered the jar of his birth a supreme treasure, carrying its lid with him as a funerary object.

And I must have some connection to this ancient ancestor; perhaps I am his descendant.

So, my ancestor was born from a jar?

Seeing that I had been stunned into silence for a long time, Long Jia knew I must have figured something out and asked, "What's wrong?"

I shook my head, saying it was nothing, and then explained to her the story of the five jars giving birth to the True Gods.

Long Jia looked surprised, then excited, murmuring, "God Creation Technique! Is it real?"

"God Creation Technique?" I looked at her with profound confusion.

Long Jia didn't answer but turned and started walking back, saying, "It's fine. I'll tell you once I've researched it clearly."

I couldn't stop her, so I just watched her walk away.

However, after walking a short distance, Long Jia turned and came back, shouting loudly at me, "Xie Yuting told me to tell you: if you're done, hurry back to the country. If you don't return soon, you will regret it!"

I hadn't expected Long Jia to relay such a message. I wondered why I should listen to Xie Yuting? He had kidnapped us and nearly gotten me thrown into the sea to feed the fish; now he wanted us back—what was his true objective?

Despite my resentment, the truth was, ever since waking up this morning, I had already decided to persuade everyone to go back.

Setting aside the strangeness of Durban Village, I couldn't let them venture to Relic Island again; it was fraught with danger, a suicide mission.

I had gathered most of the information I needed; there was no reason to stay.

And finally, the most critical point: if what the Atlanteans said was true, and the Four True Gods were hunting me, then leaving Nie Chuan and the others here was tantamount to waiting to be slaughtered. It was best to flee back home first.

I glanced at the distant sea, then turned my gaze toward my homeland, suddenly feeling a deep pang of homesickness.

With a sigh, I hurried back, intending to immediately convince everyone to return.

When I arrived back at the Lavilovich house, I found everyone packing their bags.

Surprised, I moved over to Nie Chuan and asked him what was happening.

Nie Chuan looked up when he saw me. "Oh, *, you’re back. I was just looking for you."

I asked him, "Did something happen?"

Nie Chuan set down the luggage he was holding, dusted his hands off, and said excitedly, "There's news about Grandpa!"

"What?" I found it almost unbelievable.

Since our phones lost signal upon reaching the Chukotka Peninsula, there was no way to contact home. How did he get news about Grandpa?

Nie Chuan seemed to sense my confusion. "Oh, BEY told me. He just got back from Moscow."

Hearing this, I suddenly remembered.

After we were kidnapped by Xie Yuting's men, we were luckily rescued by BEY. Later, when we reached Durban Village, we heard BEY was heading to Moscow, so we asked him to help us contact our family. I had given him my parents' number and my second uncle's number then. Perhaps after arriving in Moscow, he contacted my second uncle’s family and got news of Grandpa.

As he spoke, BEY emerged from the back room.

Seeing his handsome face, which resembled David Beckham's, I felt something was subtly off. Perhaps it was from seeing that group photo and remembering the old photograph discovered in the underground ruins that I harbored many theories about this BEY.

But I couldn't show it now; I simply smiled at BEY and asked Nie Chuan, "Where is your Grandpa?"

Nie Chuan replied that he didn't know; Grandpa had only sent a package to my second uncle, and they needed to go back to find out.

A package? I muttered.

I wondered what Grandpa would send me.

Clearly, BEY didn't know the contents; he only told us that Grandpa had sent me a package.

Then Nie Chuan added, "I know many friends in archaeology in Beijing. One of them once discovered beads similar to these in a Han Dynasty tomb. Maybe we can get some information from him."

This suited my intentions perfectly. I had been planning how to persuade them to leave, and now that effort was saved. The only remaining issue was how we would get back.

If we were to travel by car over the mountains and then fly from Moscow, it would be troublesome. Moreover, we had essentially entered as stowaways, carrying neither cash nor ID cards, so buying plane tickets would be impossible.

To return, we would need a boat, but the best vessel here was the village chief's fishing boat, which was incapable of long voyages.

After thinking it over and over, one person came to mind: Long Jia.