Shadowy Sea Area, Tolda Island.

At noon, the lush island was bustling with noise, the islanders danced unknown dances, holding various animal bones in their hands—those of whales, fishmen, and even humans. Here, some cannibalistic traditions still linger; when missionaries first arrived, they were seen as gifts by the natives. Thousands of islanders chanted unique rhythms, danced fervently, and surrounded the island, facing the central altar.

The altar was already built, and according to the Elder Council, today was the best day to worship the Death god. The islanders were fervent and joyous at the Death god’s favor, raising their most precious collections in their most enthusiastic stances to express inner joy. The place was backward, but their piety was unquestionable.

Cantona, dressed in a black Lord of Destiny robe, wore a solemn expression as he circled the altar constantly, exuding the unique aura of the clergy. For someone who worked in the Cardinal Hall, the ritual was a compulsory course, and he excelled. Cantona once dreamed of showcasing himself at the Nether God ceremony and then soaring to success.

Unexpectedly, the Death god and Nether god used the same set.

Deities all need Wish Power, though the methods of drawing on Wish Power differ among them. Essentially, it stems from faith, or one could say the loyalty of souls. Sometimes Cantona wondered through what channels the deities obtain this power. Perhaps understanding it meant access to approach deities. Of course, such thoughts were fleeting.

The first circle of the array ritual was meant to test the setup; the flow of Spiritual Ability was very smooth. Cantona glanced at Romir, the Deacon of the Death Church, whose eyes were full of devotion and fervor. They were remnants of the Death Church. After the Death god’s fall and the church members being hunted throughout Dao Yuan, there arose conflicts between new gods, but attitudes towards old gods and their followers remained consistent. It was a bloody era, but some still lay low, living cautiously, waiting for their deity’s summons.

"Lord, is there any problem?" Romir asked respectfully, with a hint of anticipation.

Cantona nodded, "Very good. The faith of these islanders is very pure and will greatly support the revival of my god."

Romir smiled, "That’s great. Their piety is beyond doubt. This island has existed for a long time; each one is a good candidate."

Cantona speculated this island might be one of the Death god’s contingencies. As long as faith remained, resurrection was possible. Naturally, it might need other conditions. Being involved in this matter also allowed Cantona to gain much hidden knowledge.

"The ritual must not be disturbed or interrupted by external forces," Cantona said, maintaining a calm expression tinged with a bit of coldness, a necessary demeanor here. The Lord of Destiny of the Death god is indeed cold. Overall, except for sometimes not knowing what he was doing, work in the Death Church was relatively relaxed. The Death Church remained cautious of him.

"Rest assured, no one will dare approach Tolda Island in the coming days. Merchant ships and explorers will avoid this place," Romir said.

"Don’t be complacent; caution leads to lasting safety. Begin the final preparations; we start in half an hour."

"Yes, Lord." Romir bowed deeply with one hand on his chest, "May the Death god be with us."

"May the Death god be with us."

Romir withdrew respectfully. The altar was also at the island’s highest point, the celebrating islanders neatly arranged, proficient with their ritual stances, evident it wasn’t their first time. Every year around this time, they would begin; the Death god blessed them with favorable weather, bountiful harvests at sea. But during the ritual, no other actions could occur, or divine punishment would ensue.

Around five nautical miles encircling Tolda Island, the sea surface showed many grey whirlpools, storm clouds densely covering the sky, forebodingly looming like they might fall. As the distance from Tolda Island increased, the storm intensified, with giant waves rising to over ten meters, followed by torrential rain.

During this time each year marked the typhoon season in the Shadowy Sea Area. Residents of surrounding islands, pirates, and merchants either avoid it or stay on their islands for rest.

Patulu Five Claw Island, outside was a raging storm, while the taverns and brothels inside were bustling with activity. The rain and poor-quality alcohol stimulated people’s nerves; for a few days, they could unload everything and release freely. Primitive scenes played out intensely, with humans and animals. During typhoon season, the island’s residents indulged their desires, their sole venting method, so business everywhere thrived.

Other islands in the Shadowy Sea Area were similar. Every year during this time, pirate disputes and feuds between organizations would temporarily cease, becoming a custom among the islands. Pirates and residents alike exhausted their means to enjoy the human-exclusive joys during the rain.

Tolda Island, a miraculous isle during typhoon season, remained undisturbed. Each year’s typhoon bypassed it, showcasing divine power, which the island’s residents unshakably believed. The more violent outside, the more fervent inside the island.

The ritual had begun; Cantona’s Spiritual Ability flowed throughout his body, his Divine Relic releasing unprecedented power, elevating him to an entirely different level.

Islanders watched as the Lord of Destiny soared into the sky, enveloped in black light, even overshadowing the sun. Under the lead of Island Master Mahamaha and Deacon Romir, their body movements intensified.

Cantona spread his arms, focused his mind, and began chanting in Hera Language:

"Creator of the Netherworld,

Destination of life, Ruler of the deceased, the sole Father, Controller of reincarnation and souls, great Heretiwena,

Your faithful servant prays for your gaze,

Prays you accept his offering..."

Then followed the inherent chant’s rhythm, achievable only in Hera Language. Truthfully, Cantona felt somewhat apprehensive and excited. As an outstanding student trained by the Nether God’s Court, his first divine offering went to the Death god. The sacrifice led by the priest was the closest moment to the deity, allowing the leader a chance to receive divine attention.

Within minutes, the sky abruptly amassed a boundless aura.

In the air, Cantona sensed Wish Power influx like countless tiny streams pouring into his body, cleansing his soul. The sensation was wonderful, as if his body’s filth and mediocrity were being washed away. This power swirled around with his Netherworld Blade at the center, spiraling from a small vortex, expanding, coiling, and coiling again.

Romir watched Cantona in the sky, his expression filled with ecstasy and adoration, his entire eyes turned pitch black. The tide of Wish Power was forming; the Sacrifice had begun. Romir clasped his hands, chanting incantations, his face bulging with writhing protrusions, followed by dense, rapidly moving bumps of fist-size across his body.