The CEO's Disgraced Husband Is the Sea God's Commander

4

"Mars..."

Dante softly spoke the name.

For a moment, nothing happened. The massive statue remained silent, its stone eyes empty. Dante stood there, the weight of the entire sanctuary pressing down on him. Then, almost against his will, he forced down the trembling deep in his soul and stepped toward the next giant statue.

It was a female giant god a hundred meters tall, with six divine arms. Each arm held an element that ruled the world—silent world-burning fire blazed in her left palm, abyssal water swirled in her right, violent thunder flashed wildly between the third and fourth fingers, while the last two hands gripped extreme darkness and piercing pure-white divine light at the same time. The two forces did not clash; they coexisted in a strange harmony.

[Freya · Goddess of Fate and Ruin]

[Ruler of Destiny Across Nine Hundred Divine Realms, Weaver of the Twilight of the Gods]

The next one was a giant gripping a dark-gold trident taller than a cathedral. His eyes were carved from deep-sea blue crystal. As Dante moved, that heavy gaze seemed to lock onto him across time and space.

[Neptune · Lord of the Extreme Abyss]

[Commander of the Eternal Tides, Devourer of the Oceans of Ten Thousand Nations]

Dante's mouth hung slightly open as he slowly walked through this sacred hall of the gods, hidden ten thousand meters beneath the sea—a place that should not exist—reading the lines of divine text burning with golden light.

Gods of thunder, gods of death, gods of plague and harvest, gods of shadow and dawn... Here gathered ancient deities from Greek, Norse, and Roman mythology, and countless others never recorded by any human language. The highest pantheons of the entire universe stood like sleeping epics in this underwater sanctuary.

"This is not a temple at all..." Dante's voice was so low it was almost inaudible. "This is a... vault of divine positions."

Boom—!

A deep, muffled roar suddenly rose from the depths of the earth.

It was a vast frequency that first shattered the marrow, then entered the ears. The golden veins on the black obsidian floor pulsed madly, their light brilliant. Like a hundred rivers returning to the sea, they all raced toward the same direction—

Toward the first statue.

The War God, Mars.

The stone eyes of the hundred-meter-tall war god statue suddenly erupted with two balls of burning scarlet divine fire! The fire was so real, so violent, that Dante instinctively stumbled back two steps.

The entire giant statue began to tremble violently! Fine cracks like spiderwebs rapidly spread across its whole body. From the depths of every crack, blinding molten-gold light squeezed out like a volcano about to erupt!

An irresistible great force instantly locked onto Dante's chest. The power was not crude, yet it carried absolute dominion, forcing his legs to step forward against his will.

One step. Two steps. He stopped at the feet of the giant statue of Mars.

Those two scarlet divine fires looked down on him from above.

In that instant, Dante experienced a shock he had never known before—he felt completely "seen through." Not observed, not examined, but every inch of weakness, every trace of pain, every scar left by his wife's trampling in the depths of his soul was laid bare before the eyes of this ancient god.

The god was weighing whether he was qualified to carry the power that could slaughter ten thousand nations.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

The scarlet divine fire surged!

Boom—!

The war god statue exploded with a roar!

It was not rubble and flying stones, but a brilliant feast that swept across the universe! Hundreds of millions of golden light spots burst into the air and hung still for a brief second. Each spot was like a miniature sun. In midair they gathered once more into the ultimate form of the War God Mars, holding a giant sword and pointing at the river of stars!

The next moment, the vast golden form collapsed inward, turning into a surging golden river of light that slammed hard into Dante's chest!

"Ah—!"

The huge impact lifted Dante into the air!

His spine arched violently backward. His arms spread wide. Golden divine light poured from every pore of his body! His muscles were forcibly torn apart at the molecular level, then instantly rebuilt denser and harder by the injected divine power.

Vast oceans of combat memory flooded into his mind like a tsunami—

Techniques from a hundred thousand divine-realm wars! Sword arts that could cut through every weapon in the world! Close-quarters grappling that could tear heavy armor apart with bare hands! The most precise angles to snap bones, shatter kneecaps, and slit windpipes... These were not slowly understood. In one-thousandth of a second, they were forcibly carved into the depths of his soul!

When everything returned to calm, Dante crashed heavily to the ground, kneeling on one knee on the black obsidian.

A faint golden afterglow still flowed across his skin. Sweat dripped from his chin and fell onto the golden veins in the floor, stirring ripples of joy.

He raised his hands and looked at his palms.

Outwardly there was no change. But the power contained in his bones, tendons, and nerves was now worlds apart from the ordinary man who had boarded the yacht that morning with a ring box in his pocket.

"What... did you do to me?" Dante's voice was hoarse as he looked at the empty pedestal ahead.

The sanctuary was completely silent.

But in the center of the shattered pedestal lay a plain golden ring, giving off a warm glow.

Dante reached out to touch it. The moment his fingertip met the metal, understanding naturally rose in his mind: this ring was the key to the entire sanctuary. With it, he could enter and leave this vault of the gods at will.

He slid the ring onto the middle finger of his right hand. It fit perfectly.

Dante slowly stood up. The exhaustion in his eyes was replaced by absolute power. He walked to the base of the second statue—the six-armed goddess Freya—and pressed his hand against it.

Ice-cold. Dead silence.

He tried Neptune, the God of Thunder, and a nameless deity holding a scale of starlight. Every statue remained in deep sleep, as if waiting for a different time, or waiting for him to reach a higher level.

"With the War God Mars alone, it is already enough," Dante murmured.

He closed his eyes, turned the War God Ring on his middle finger once, and thought—"the shore."

The vast and magnificent sanctuary of the gods dissolved like smoke in the wind.

When he opened his eyes again, the roar of the storm and waves crashing against the rocks returned to his ears.

He stood on the wet beach, soaked through, yet his breathing was as steady as a mountain. The wound on his forehead where the metal had smashed it open had already healed, leaving not even a scar.

Not far away on the sand sat the abandoned orange lifeboat.

Empty. No rescue team. No alarms. No flashing red and blue lights. Only the cold fine rain, and the dead silence left by the woman who had promised to call for help the moment she reached shore.

"She really didn't even make a single phone call." Dante wiped the rain from his face and let out a cold, bone-chilling self-mockery.

He adjusted his soaked jacket and felt his empty pockets. No phone. No wallet. But he no longer felt the slightest weakness.

He turned around and strode alone along the coastline toward the city.

...

In the brightly lit hospital emergency room.

The doctor walked up to Ginevra with the examination report, looking a little strange: "Ms. Ginevra, Mr. Luca shows no signs of heart failure or myocardial infarction. All his indicators are normal. From what we can see, it is more likely temporary symptoms caused by emotional agitation and fear—respiratory alkalosis from hyperventilation."

Ginevra clearly relaxed.

The doctor muttered in a low voice: "Actually, from the checks, it doesn't really look like he has heart disease, or an anxiety disorder either..."

But Ginevra didn't hear a word of it.

Because at that exact moment, she suddenly remembered something she had completely forgotten.

She took out her phone, stared at the empty call log on the screen, and her pupils contracted sharply:

"Dante... I forgot to call the maritime authorities."

The moment those words left her mouth, the high-and-mighty, calm and elegant mask she had always worn finally cracked with a trace of panic.

On the hospital bed behind her, Luca, who had been lying there "weakly," flashed a deep, cold look of triumph in his eyes.

He slowly turned his head and looked out the window at the stormy sea. A cruel, victorious smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

—Stay at the bottom of the sea, Dante.

This woman and her empire are all mine now.