Chapter 383 - 380: Symphony

Chapter 383: Chapter 380: Symphony

The music from the sea grew increasingly complex.

A rich tapestry of instrumental sounds intertwined, forming a harmonious symphony.

The beautiful sound compelled Li Luo to look out the porthole, her gaze drawn to the curious sight of colliding crystal notes.

Just then, the broadcast announcement sounded again:

"The following types of music are prohibited on this vessel: heavy metal, whistling, highly repetitive children’s songs..."

Hearing this stern warning, Li Luo pressed her lips together, not daring to make a sound.

But in a place she couldn’t see, a different kind of "performance" was unfolding.

Mo Ling’s gaze was fixed on the sky.

A few seagulls were passing by, seemingly drawn in by the symphony from the sea.

They circled in the air, apparently also curious about the source of the strange sound.

The shimmering crystals in the sea caught their attention. A few of the bolder seagulls dove toward the surface, trying to snatch at the crystals.

But their claws could only scoop up a glob of viscous seawater, leaving a shimmering trail in the air.

Frustrated, they could only call out to one another and prepare to fly further away.

However, their melodious calls broke the harmony of the symphony.

A jarring birdsong had been inserted into the otherwise perfectly coordinated movement.

The air suddenly grew oppressive. The waves began to churn inexplicably, and the crystals in the sea spun faster.

At the same time, the symphony abruptly shifted to a new movement. The tempo quickened, seemingly changing to follow the sharp birdsong, eventually turning into a light, brisk minuet.

All the instruments within the waves constantly adjusted to the birdsong, enveloping the once-jarring sound.

As the rhythm changed, the original "dissonance" actually became harmonious.

The sea was infinitely accepting; even the sharp birdsong had become a part of the symphony, enveloped within it.

The symphony became even more beautiful.

The birdsong became the perfect finishing touch, adding a splash of life to the music.

In just a short time, the sea had assimilated that touch of discord.

But Mo Ling’s eyes were wide with shock.

Because the seagulls in the air were steadily turning transparent.

They were still flapping their wings, flying off in a flock, but the color was draining from their bodies, which were becoming a gelatinous, translucent shade.

At the same time, clots of flesh and blood appeared inside their transparent bodies, and these clots, too, were slowly fading.

Finally, when their bodies had become completely transparent, the flesh-colored clots turned into clear crystal lumps. Then, they abruptly shattered, exploding into countless shimmering crystals.

In that instant of shattering, the seagulls’ bodies also became puddles of soft liquid, falling from the sky into the sea.

Like water into water, they vanished without a trace.

But the terrifying part was, the birdsong could still be heard.

The sound rose and fell, sometimes seeming to come from the air, other times from the clinking of crystals in the sea.

The beautiful symphony played on.

Sitting in her room, Li Luo only heard the crisp birdsong embellishing the music. It sounded very harmonious, and she had no idea what had just happened.

But Mo Ling felt a chill run down his spine.

’Assimilated?’

Not just the sound, but their very flesh and blood had been assimilated into the sea.

Both the symphony and the sea itself were incredibly "inclusive"—anything and everything could become a part of them.

Mo Ling’s scalp tingled with fear. He finally understood why the broadcast repeatedly emphasized the prohibition against playing certain types of music on board.

This sea would envelop any "performance" and, at the same time, turn the "performer" into a part of itself.

Mo Ling blinked, and when he looked again, he didn’t know where the seagulls had gone.

There was no trace of them in the sky, only the endlessly echoing birdsong, which occasionally drifted into the ship’s cabins.

’They’ve become a permanent part of the symphony.’

And a part of the sea.

The sea remained impossibly beautiful—shimmering, churning, and playing its pleasant symphony.

Glittering diamonds spread out, pure without a single stain.

If he hadn’t just witnessed a flock of living creatures vanish without a trace, Mo Ling would have truly believed this sea was the epitome of purity.

’Beautiful and terrifying.’

Every few minutes, the broadcast would repeat the same warning.

A mechanical, monotonous voice tirelessly recited the exact same words:

"The following types of music are prohibited on this vessel: heavy metal, whistling, highly repetitive children’s songs..."

Now, listening to this monotonous voice, Mo Ling felt an incredible sense of security.

This was the wisdom the robots of the Tiansuo had gained from countless voyages.

Listening to the repeated warning, Mo Ling couldn’t help but wonder, ’How exactly did they figure this out?’

Unlike simple "AI training," these tests had a cost. Someone must have played heavy metal, whistled, or sung similar songs on the ship, leading to an accident, before the robots would rewrite the cautionary notes.

The thought of what happened to the seagulls sent another chill through Mo Ling’s heart.

An image surfaced in his mind:

A person playing music in their cabin, melting into a pool of liquid, and merging with the symphony in the sea...

’So, the sounds in the sea have a source too. Could they have originally been some kind of living creature?’

’Were those beautiful instruments also creatures that once "played" in these waters?’

At this thought, Mo Ling found the beautiful symphony had become utterly horrifying.

Now, no matter how beautiful the music, it could no longer spark Mo Ling’s imagination.

He only felt that the sound was terrifyingly cold.

The seawater spread, silently enveloping everything. The performer becomes a pool of liquid, sinking despairingly into its depths, but their sound is forever trapped in these waters, becoming an inescapable Earth-bound Spirit.

Just as Mo Ling was lamenting this, the performance entered its finale.

The symphony took a sharp turn, instantly releasing all its pent-up emotion. The waves grew chaotic, as if trying to destroy everything that had been played before.

A rhythm like a torrential downpour allowed each individual sound to break its shackles and scatter, yet they all seemed to be pulled by invisible reins, trapped in the center.

If Mo Ling hadn’t seen the seagulls disappear, he would have thought this finale was a masterful release of emotion.

But now, Mo Ling felt as though all the sounds had come to life. They had clearly become part of the sea, yet they were struggling to break away, desperate for freedom.

They constantly tried to tear through the layers of water, to escape this infinite embrace, but the shackles on them could never be removed.

These helpless Earth-bound Spirits could only struggle, wail, and cry for help...

But all their efforts could only ever become another part of the symphony.

The waves churned on.

The music played on.

The Tiansuo slowly pushed through the spray, sailing toward the horizon...

On the broadcast, the same mechanical, monotonous voice droned on.

Li Luo wiped her mouth and placed her utensils back into the transport chute.

She sat back down on her bed, with nothing to do, and muttered to herself:

"That music just now wasn’t bad..."