The sensation of passing through the membrane of water enveloping the Crystal Palace was incredibly miraculous.
It was not like diving into water. It felt like stepping through a veil of soft, cool silk. All the crushing pressure of the deep sea, all the chaotic currents, were completely isolated on the outside.
When they fully stepped inside, a world that existed only within the most magnificent of legends unfurled before their eyes.
They stood upon a vast plaza, paved with an aquamarine jade that emitted a soft, gentle luminescence. Above their heads was not the pitch-black seawater, but a colossal dome, as transparent as crystal, perfectly separating the inner space from the ocean above. Through that dome, they could see schools of gargantuan fish and bizarre sea beasts swimming about, as if gazing up at the most vibrant and living sky.
Surrounding the plaza were palaces and soaring towers constructed entirely of white coral and pearls. Their architectural lines were ancient and majestic, yet possessed a soft, ethereal grace, bearing the profound, distinct hallmark of the Lac Viet people. Carved upon the walls were familiar motifs: Lac birds soaring in flight, sun-stars, and figures engaged in rowing boats and pounding rice.
This was not a ruined relic. This was an intact, complete citadel, perfectly preserved beneath the seabed for thousands of years.
The Crystal Palace.
"Oh, Ancestors..." Old Whale trembled, dropping to one knee as his single eye brimmed with tears. "This... this is truly a miracle..."
The thirty members of the Sea Dragon Guards, men long accustomed to blood and death, were now equally stupefied. Their eyes overflowed with awe and veneration. This place, compared to anything they had ever witnessed, was ten thousand times more majestic and sacred.
Tran Kien was the only one who maintained his composure, but within his heart, a massive tidal wave was also surging. He could sense it. The air here contained more than just spiritual qi. It held another kind of "qi." The qi of history, of culture, of the very soul of a people.
"Everyone, absolutely no unauthorized actions," he ordered, his voice echoing with solemnity. "This is a sacred sanctuary. Any act of disrespect will not be forgiven."
He took the lead, stepping carefully along the main avenue of the citadel. Flanking them were silent buildings, devoid of a single shadow. The entire city resembled a painting frozen in time.
They passed through an area that looked like a forging workshop. Inside, bronze hammers still rested upon anvils, and sword blanks lay unfinished, as if the blacksmiths had only just stepped away for a moment.
They walked past a library. Bamboo scrolls still sat neatly upon desks; a few were unrolled, seemingly left mid-read by an unseen scholar.
"This place..." Old Whale murmured, his eyes filled with disbelief. "It's as if... everyone here vanished in the exact same instant."
Tran Kien did not reply. He was feeling. The Seed of Legacy within his body was vibrating with increasing intensity. It was guiding him toward the very center of the citadel.
Finally, they arrived at the largest and most majestic palace, constructed entirely from flawless white jade. Carved upon the colossal doors of the palace were two ancient Shamanic runes:
"LEGACY."
The doors were unlocked. Tran Kien signaled for the others to remain outside, while he and Old Whale slowly pushed the heavy doors open and stepped inside.
Inside was neither a throne nor an altar.
It was an expansive, empty space. And right in the very center of that space, an object was floating.
It was not a fragment. It was a perfectly intact bronze drum.
It was larger than any bronze drum Tran Kien had ever seen in the ancient tomes. Its entire body bore the color of ancient green-bronze. Upon the drum's surface, the sixteen-pointed sun-star in the center seemed to be truly radiating light. Surrounding it were the familiar concentric rings of motifs: figures dancing, war boats, soaring Lac birds... all as lifelike as if they were actually moving.
A majestic, primordial aura, encompassing both Heaven and Earth, emanated from the bronze drum. It caused the souls of both men to feel an overwhelming urge to bow down in worship.
The fragments of the Solar Essence Guardian and the Unhindered Lac Feathers automatically flew out from Tran Kien's body. Humming with joyous resonance, they transformed into two streaks of light—one golden, one azure—and fused into the bronze drum.
"OMMM...M...M...M!!!"
A deep, resonant drumbeat—struck by no human hand, but echoing on its own accord—reverberated throughout the entirety of the Crystal Palace, and echoed all the way out into the vast sea.
The bronze drum, now perfectly whole, slowly, ever so slowly... descended, landing gently before Tran Kien.
"Is this... is this the core magical artifact required to deploy the Lac Viet Heavenly Cycle Array?" Old Whale asked in astonishment.
"No," Tran Kien shook his head. His eyes were glued to the drum, overflowing with sudden enlightenment. "It is not a magical artifact."
"It is a 'living array diagram'."
He finally understood. The complete incantations, the absolute essence of this supreme array, were not recorded in any texts. Instead, the predecessors had used a supreme divine ability to carve them deep into the very soul of this bronze drum. To deploy the array, one did not memorize incantations; one had to earn its acknowledgment, fuse with it, and become a part of it.
At that exact moment, from within the bronze drum, the desolate yet benevolent voice of the final Shaman once again echoed within Tran Kien's mind.
"Descendant, you have finally arrived."
"I do not have much time left. This final legacy, I shall pass onto you. But remember this: the greater your power, the heavier your responsibility. The path before you shall not solely be one of conquest and contention; it will also be a path of protection, of creation."
"Come forth. Place your hand upon the drum. Inherit our mission."
Tran Kien took a deep breath. He knew this was the most pivotal moment of his life. He looked at Old Whale, seeing the encouragement in the old man's eye.
Without a shred of hesitation, he stepped forward, his trembling hand coming to rest upon the cold surface of the bronze drum.
In that instant, a blinding light—carrying all the knowledge, all the power, and the very soul of a magnificent civilization—completely enveloped him.