Chapter 60: Go Die, Sea King 2

However, she could not afford a fallout with this old fellow right now. After all, the original host's crimes included being ruthless and merciless—killing the king of the Fishermen Kingdom on a whim, with green blood bubbling up hideously, showing extreme brutality.

If she didn't want to be overthrown, she had to be utterly blameless first. The original host must be a good king!

In fact, the original host was genuinely a good person. Before fighting Arthur, he even advised Arthur to turn back, because Arthur was bound to lose under those circumstances.

Yet no one saw it that way. Instead, everyone later assumed he only said those things because he knew he would lose. Goodness knows what kind of logic that was; their train of thought was as twisted as a maze.

That submarine was intentionally meant to shell her father-in-law in order to forge an alliance. In truth, that father-in-law had long known there was a trap, but simply went along with it and even had his daughter engaged to the original host, only to leave the original host wearing a metaphorical green hat.

Yet why did everyone think it was the original host's fault?

"Oh, you're here." Hining held her trident, expressionless. "Then just throw it into the scrap yard. Dismantle whatever can be dismantled, sell whatever can be sold."

Vike was startled. After a moment of thought, he remained cautious, a faint smile on his face: "Wasn't that submarine meant to serve a 'purpose'?"

He placed heavy emphasis on the word "purpose."

This old fox didn't even need to shift his eyes when plotting something crooked.

"Indeed!" Hining nodded, pretending to have amnesia regarding the original plan. "Scrap metal is quite valuable in the ocean these days. Oh, right, there are still plenty of bombs on it. Tonight, we'll take them up to the ocean surface and set them off like New Year firecrackers, just to let the common folk have some fun."

At this, Vike was completely dumbfounded. Spending a large bag of gold coins to have pirates hijack a submarine was just to buy a pile of scrap metal and set off firecrackers?

"Well..." Vike felt it necessary to remind her. "Your Majesty, the submarine is for a very important plan."

"Oh, the plan!" Hining said casually. "I've decided to postpone it."

Vike's fake, shallow smile vanished. He licked his large, thin lips and asked with difficulty, "Then what about the tsunami? The tsunami that will wash all the garbage onto land..."

"I've been thinking, although humans have behaved terribly, they are living creatures after all!" Hining felt that not only the top of her head, but her entire being radiated the halo of a holy mother. "How could we let a tsunami destroy their homes and plunge all living beings into misery? As for that garbage, I plan to establish a waste cleanup team dedicated to clearing plastic products thrown into the ocean, and then take them to recycling stations on land. On one hand, it cleans the ocean; on the other hand, humans give one cent per empty bottle, so we can even make a little pocket money. I'll leave this task to you!"

Hining smiled and patted Vike's shoulder. "With you handling it, I can rest easy."

Vike stood there, his hands crossed over his abdomen, listening in a daze. Finally, he tilted his head slightly. "Very well, Your Majesty! But while I am handling this, waging war against humans will have to be put on hold."

"Then let's not wage war!" Hining spread her arms wide, resembling the famous colossal statue atop the mountain in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and began emitting the radiant light of a holy mother once more. "We and humans are actually one big family, living together in the global village. Humanity will surely be moved by the efforts of us Atlanteans."

Lowering her arms, Hining said calmly to Vike, "You are my best and most loyal advisor. Now that there is no war, ocean garbage is the top priority that needs to be addressed. If successful, your achievement will endure through the ages, and your contribution will be undeniable. So hurry off and clean up the trash!"

With that, she left Vike—who was still stunned yet maintained his poise and composure—and went to her room to change clothes.

Being a king—and the supreme monarch of the Seven Kingdoms—had its perks; even her bedroom was a thousand square meters in size.

Opening the wardrobe, Hining wanted to change into something more comfortable and casual, but upon looking inside, several large cabinets were filled with armor and fish-scale body suits meant to be worn underneath it.

Pitch black, golden, silver, arranged in complete sets. They were definitely much prettier than the outfit Arthur wore at the end, which looked like golden corn kernels on top and green soft tights on the bottom.

Good grief, did the original host wear armor every single day of his life? Even though the ocean had greater buoyancy, you couldn't wear armor 24/7; the stuff was bulky and inconvenient to move in.

Closing the door, she stepped out and called out, "Someone there!"

The guards at the door immediately responded, "Your Majesty, what are your orders?"

Hining cut straight to the point: "Have someone make me two sets of more comfortable casual wear."

The armored guard looked completely bewildered. "But Your Majesty, you've always worn armor. To maintain your majesty, you even gave us an order that we were only allowed to wear armor."

What majesty? What did being a king have to do with whether or not you wore metallic clothing? That Arthur spent his entire day shirtless, exposing his heart and tribal tattoos, running around half-naked on land and sea like a madman, and nobody thought he was acting indecently.

"I've thought about it. Wearing it every single moment is simply too much. Have people make me two sets, and as for you lot, wear whatever you want when you're not on guard duty." Hining added a final decree: "Previous orders are hereby revoked; today's order shall prevail!"

Though they had no idea what had gotten into King Orm, the guards were quite pleased and quickly accepted the command: "Understood, Your Majesty!"

The soft, form-fitting armor was delivered promptly. After changing into it, Hining stood in front of the mirror.

The original host was quite handsome. As a true-blooded member of the orthodox Atlantean royal family, he was tall and striking, commanding legions and leading the tri-service military. He looked far better than that rough-hewn older brother of his!

Yet why on earth was his hair cut so short? His golden hair was very short, and all of it was slicked straight back.

Looking at everyone else, apart from Vike who tied his hair into a topknot, everyone else had long hair. Wavy long hair—Arthur's was dark brown, and Mera's was a gorgeous red, floating gracefully in the water, looking ethereal and beautiful.

Short hair wasn't ethereal at all, and when slicked entirely backward, it gave a person a sinister, villainous look. This was the ocean, after all; keeping hair from floating around was quite difficult.

Looking at the large jar sitting by the mirror next to her, she opened it to find a high-dose, bulk-packaged white hair gel.

Just to maintain this all-slicked-back, scalp-hugging hairstyle, how much hair gel had the original host used?

No, she had to change her image. First impressions were crucial; if people took you for a bad guy at first glance, changing their minds later would be immensely difficult.

Thus, Hining opened the door and asked a guard to bring over a wig—specifically, a long, wavy blonde wig.

Before long, the wig was delivered. Putting on the wig and wearing the unburdensome soft armor, Hining strolled around the palace to test it out.

As she stepped out of her room, the guard's jaw dropped so wide it couldn't close.

Soon enough, Hining discovered that long hair was completely terrible!

The hair of the male and female protagonists, Arthur and Mera, always floated backward or slanted upward at a seventy-degree angle under any circumstances.

Yet her hair, as the primary male villain, constantly drifted forward, covering her entire face in an unsightly and disheveled mess. Even when she swam forward, the moment she stopped, her hair would instantly drift to the front, sticking in strands all across her face.