Mystery: When the Lost Homelanders Meet the Lost Homeland Call

Late at night, while Lynn was divining the hometown of the slaves trafficked by the Witch Cult, Klein was lying in bed, the crimson moonlight streaming through the curtains and painting the room with patches of color.

Because he ate too much at night, Klein couldn't fall asleep, so he started to wonder if the doll should go to sleep.

He quietly raised his head and looked at the silk doll placed on the bedside table. The little doll sat with its legs bent at the head of the bed, its skirt spread out on the bed, and its azure eyes shone brightly in the darkness.

Seeing Klein looking at her, she also looked at Klein and said in a trembling voice, "Master, is there anything I can help you with?"

Where did Madeline come from to create this anime-style thing?

Klein felt a subtle shift in his mindset, as if he had returned to modern Earth. He quickly looked around at the Victorian-style gaslights and the crimson moonlight, regaining some of the tension he felt from being caught up in the extraordinary event.

"It's alright, you should rest."

"Okay." The doll closed its eyes and sat quietly on the bed.

Klein turned over, silently closed his eyes, and began to think about how he should deal with this "spiritual artifact".

"Master of the Puppet... Master of the Puppet..." Klein recalled the perspective of treating people as puppets, and suddenly a flash of inspiration struck him.

I couldn't use my alt account on the Gray Fog because the alt's movements were too stiff. Now that I have the "Thread Doll," can I use my alt account?

"But how do I get her into the gray fog..." Klein pondered, gradually drifting off to sleep.

  

While Klein was sleeping, Lynn was thinking about how to take people away.

The dock was crowded with hundreds of people, men, women, and children. When Lynn walked back from the port, the entire deck suddenly lowered, and they all knelt down at the same time.

"God..."

"Lord Angel..."

"Are you an emissary sent by the Lord of Storms?"

They shouted in various dialects of the Southern Continent and the broken Rune language. Some were crying, some were kowtowing, and some were trying to kiss Lynn's boots, but Lynn subtly took a step back to avoid them.

Lynn said seriously, "I'm going to take you all home later, everyone."

The hellish thing is that, because of the slave trade, most of the people here are physically resilient, so Lynn can directly consider transporting people rather than treating illnesses.

Looking at the respectful manner of the people in front of him, he began to think about how he could improve his approachability.

So he put on a very friendly smile.

Seemingly influenced by something, everyone present suddenly felt very relaxed, as if the person in front of them was their best friend.

As they watched Lynn walk toward the ship at the dock, the legends they had heard all their lives around the village campfires flooded their minds: when the gods traveled, four feathered serpents pulled a pure gold palace across the sky, the palace gates opened, sweet dew fell, the dead were resurrected, and the sick were healed...

A girl, about fifteen or sixteen years old, with whip marks on her cheeks, clutched her tattered shirt tightly. Her lips trembled as she whispered to the person next to her, "Am I...am I going to see heaven?"

"I dreamt of heaven," a simple, strong man beside me whispered, his eyes filled with tears. "I dreamt that the door was white, very bright..."

Hearing these comments, Lynn scratched his head. Why did these people suddenly become so relaxed?

It must be because my smile is so approachable!

Lynn walked to the dock and snapped his fingers. A ghostly green flame erupted from his fingertips, spreading like mercury over the dilapidated sailboat they had arrived in. Licked by the green flame, the ship began to deform.

The slaves present stared wide-eyed. They had expected to see a magnificent heavenly chariot, a canopy woven from feathers and clouds, angels playing music and the air filled with fragrance, but what they saw before them was increasingly strange.

The ship didn't grow longer or sharper, nor was it plated with gold or silver, nor did it grow wings. Instead, it was compressing, contracting, and becoming... square.

A kind of extremely simple, profound, and indescribable "square".

When the green flames faded, there was a... no, a... thing that didn't even look like a boat, moored by the dock. It was about the length of an ordinary sailboat, but its overall shape resembled a horizontally placed rectangular iron box. Its outer shell was a matte gray-black, with rounded metal edges around the four corners. The surface was completely undecorated, without any carvings, flags, or even the windows were square like blocks of tofu cut in a row.

The roof of the vehicle... the roof of the boat is flat like a playground, the side door is a sliding door, and there is a handrail that looks particularly sturdy welded to the side of the door.

The strangest thing is that at the front of the train... at the bow of the ship, there is a row of bright, round lights. The light is soft but not sacred, and instead reminds people of the lights of a steam train.

The youngest girl was the first to speak, her voice tinged with uncertainty and cautious disappointment: "...What, what is this?"

An old man looked the thing up and down several times, and finally said in a low voice, "It looks like...like a tin box."

"No," the woman holding the baby next to him corrected him, her tone carrying a strange certainty, "like my uncle's oxcart, the kind with a canopy in the back, the kind that can hold twenty sheep."

A murmur of discussion arose from the crowd.

Lynn looked at what he had created with a black line on his face. His goal was to create a vehicle that could carry everyone, but the green flame created a... a large Wuling Hongguang.

Lynn still didn't give them much time to process what was happening. He walked over, opened the sliding door on the side, revealing rows of neat, hard seats covered in dark gray cloth. The seats were spaced far apart, and each seat had a metal bar welded to it for support. There was even a small cloth bag hanging under each seat with a note that read: "Please use if you feel motion sickness."

Lynn took the black thread off and put it in her pocket. She turned around and patted the door frame at them, her voice very friendly, as if she were inviting a neighbor to take her to the market.

"There are large seats available, get on board. First come, first served, the window seats offer a better view."

Although Lynn acted strangely, driven by trust and awe, one by one they bent down and crawled into the tin box, sitting on the hard chair, huddled together, children held on their laps, infants wrapped in tattered cloths. The door was closed from the outside, and a row of dim yellow lights shone from inside—neither gaslights nor candles, but a warm, even glow.

Then they felt a slight jolt beneath them.

The girl peered out of the square window and witnessed a scene she would never forget:

That strangely shaped "ship" actually started moving forward. It had no sails, no oars, no steam engine, and two enormous legs underneath!

The leg swung at a terrifying frequency, pushing against the seabed with an absurdly strong force, propelling the massive, boxy vessel forward at a steady pace. The sea breeze, carrying a salty, briny scent, rushed in through the window cracks, but the cabin remained remarkably calm.

The girl stared at her legs beneath the boat for a long time, and in that strange sense of relaxation, she whispered:

"...It seems alright?"

At the bow, Lynn rummaged in his pocket for a long time before finally pulling out a cup of sweet iced tea. He took a sip with one hand, looked down at the waterline cut by the boat, then looked up at the hundreds of nautical miles of sailing ahead, and let out a long sigh.

"...Let's change the wheels next time."

Lynn didn't care about people's reactions. After all, this was an era where people treated myths as history, and his deeds would only be mixed in with local legends, making it difficult to find anything about him.

As for the long term, let's talk about it with the Lord of Mysteries, the King of Time and Space, the Avatar of the Source Castle, and the Beacon of Destiny.