Why Am I a Priestess When I Reach the Maximum Level? - [Vol. 5] Chapter 154

[Vol. 5] Chapter 154: The Ferryman

Although the mention of the ?Ferryman? by Bowen struck a strong chord with Mr. Dead Soul, he was well aware that the ferryman here was not the same as his companion and friend.

After all, while the latter had a profound background, he was still very much alive. Just as the holy knight Bowen had said. How could a living person appear in this underworld, by the banks of the Sanzu River?

With this thought in mind, he glanced around.

The endless sea of crimson flowers spread out before him, blending seamlessly with the misty, ethereal Sanzu River at its core. Mr. Dead Soul initially planned to wander around and explore, but after a moment of reflection, he dismissed that idea.

The holy knight, Bowen, who had introduced himself, had clearly arrived in this underworld long before him. Although his experience might not be extensive, he certainly had a deeper understanding of the surroundings.

From Bowen’s attire and the faint aura of light he exuded, it was evident that he was a genuine holy knight, a person of virtue wouldn’t lie. Since Bowen had said to wait here, there was no need for Mr. Dead Soul to personally test that.

After all, having realized that even with the ancestral treasure, he couldn’t withstand even one move from Miss Dawn, and without even seeing how she attacked, this swordsman—who had rarely faced such significant setbacks in his past life and experiences—was already feeling a bit disheartened.

There was no use in feeling disheartened. He was already dead, after all.

So, he simply sat down on the ground, waiting quietly with Bowen amidst the blood-red sea of flowers.

During this time, Mr. Dead Soul saw many things.

Countless spirits, difficult to quantify or describe, continuously fell into the Sanzu River.

Their forms were bizarre and varied. Among them, some souls could still be roughly identified by their race, but many more were of strange shapes he had never seen or even heard of before.

They plummeted from the underworld’s sky.

Among them were spirits smaller than humans, no bigger than a palm, and occasionally, there were colossal beings towering thousands of feet high, larger and more imposing than dragons or giants.

Yet regardless of their form, they were quickly and inevitably submerged in the misty, illusory Sanzu River, where size and color were indistinguishable, fading away without a sound.

This was… the final resting place of souls, a wondrous sight that mortals only see once in a lifetime.

A faint understanding welled up in the swordsman’s heart.

He didn’t quite know what he understood, but through contemplating this scene, he seemed to grasp some of the true essence of the so-called spirit and soul.

The time for souls was always vague. He didn’t know how long he had been quietly waiting above the sea of flowers, casually chatting with the holy knight’s soul, when suddenly a question came to him.

“Wait a minute, Brother Bowen, speaking of which… why are only the two of us sitting here waiting for the ferryman, while the other souls are just being thrown directly into the river?”

Although he hadn’t left his spot during this time, he had observed the situation around him for quite a while. If “sight” was reliable here, Mr. Dead Soul could almost confirm that above this vast sea of flowers, he and the holy knight beside him were the only two figures.

Isn’t that strange? After all, what does “guidance” truly mean?

Bowen’s posture was not as casual as Mr. Dead Soul. He knelt on the ground, seemingly praying silently to the distant sky. When he saw the latter speak, he opened his eyes, turned his head, and smiled.

“Brother Dead Soul, that’s why I said this is all the goddess’s guidance. The Sanzu River is the end and the final resting place, but the sea of flowers on the other side is a borderland between the living and the dead. Although only the deceased can tread here, our destination is not beneath this river of the underworld.”

It seemed he was about to say something when Bowen suddenly changed his tone, rubbing his hands in anticipation as he stood up and looked into the distance.

“Oh! The ferryman has finally arrived!”

Following his gaze, Mr. Dead Soul also looked up.

In the distance, on the Sanzu River, a small boat was slowly rowing upstream.

On the wooden boat was a figure clad in a simple, worn gray robe, moving the wooden paddle with a leisurely rhythm, steering the ferry toward the shore of the blood-red sea of flowers.

“Is this… the true ?Ferryman??”

As he gazed toward the far end of his vision, Mr. Dead Soul couldn’t help but voice his amazement and sentiment.

That was… not a human existence.

On the somewhat tattered gray robe, a flickering blue flame burned, taking the shape of a head. Fiery hair flowed down its back, and only the outline of its eyes was discernible on its blurred face. Below, there was only a void supporting the long sleeves, with the hem of the robe nearly glued to the boat, making it impossible to see what was inside.

In the midst of his astonishment, the small wooden ferry, which seemed capable of holding only one or two people, had already crossed the dark banks, reaching close to the sea of flowers.

The eyes formed from the blue flames of the ferryman were fixed directly on the two of them.

?Get on the boat.?

It didn’t speak, but the clear and concise thought seemed almost tangible as it entered the minds of the two souls.

“Finally, it’s come to this moment… Let’s go, brother, to our resting place.”

Bowen let out a soft sigh, appearing especially relaxed and relieved, as if he already knew where the ferry would take them.

He patted Mr. Dead Soul’s shoulder from behind and stepped forward.

The gray-clad swordsman followed closely behind.

Crossing the blood-red sea of flowers, the two arrived at the boat by the Sanzu River. Bowen respectfully bowed to the ?Ferryman? and carefully stepped onto the wooden boat, despite the ?Ferryman?’s complete lack of response.

As some weight was added, the small boat gently rocked in the ethereal waters, splashing what seemed to be formless waves that lapped against the shore with a soft “splash.”

Seeing this, Mr. Dead Soul sighed lightly but had no choice but to do the same. After bowing, he lifted his foot to board the ferry and head toward that unknown “resting place”.

But…

A long pole suddenly blocked his path.

?You may not board the boat.?

“…Huh?”

Mr. Dead Soul, who was forbidden to move forward, was slightly taken aback. Although the sudden turn of events surprised and confused him, his psychological resilience, developed from years of experience, quickly brought him back to his senses. He straightened up again.

“Senior, may I ask why I am not allowed to board the boat? Is it that the boat can only carry one passenger at a time, and I must wait for your next return to…?”

The ?Ferryman? remained motionless. The face engulfed in blue flames showed no discernible expression, only examined Mr. Dead Soul from head to toe with its “gaze,” emanating an aura of ancient authority.

?You are not on the boat list. Someone will take you. Wait.?

“Uh? But…”

Before Mr. Dead Soul could say anything further, the ?Ferryman? casually tapped the pole against the riverbank. The small ferry elegantly spun on the Sanzu River and slowly sailed into the distance.

“Brother Dead Soul!?”

It was only at this moment that Bowen, who had boarded the ferry first, belatedly exclaimed, as if recalling something important. He quickly shouted a warning from afar.

“Although I don’t know what’s happening, remember, don’t fall asleep in the flower sea, and don’t fall into the river! No matter how long it takes, you must, you must wait! Remember my words, brother!”

“You must wait…!!”

Bowen’s voice rapidly faded across the river, disappearing into the distance. In just a moment, the foggy Sanzu River no longer held any trace of him or the ?Ferryman?, leaving Mr. Dead Soul soul on the shore looking utterly bewildered.

“What on earth… is going on…?”