A cool sea breeze suddenly swept across the deck, causing Captain Lawrence, who had just stepped outside, to instinctively rub his arms. He wasn’t sure if the chill was due to the breeze or the unsettling news the young judge had shared with him.
Abnormality 099, the puppet coffin, not only gained the ability to move and escape after losing control, but it could also expand its influence and continuously assess humanoid targets within its range for unconditional execution. Only saints might resist this almost causal beheading effect...
For the past half month, he and his crew had been living with this dangerous abnormality. Although nothing particularly dangerous had happened during this escort mission, except for the final encounter with the Lost Homeland, he still felt a bit shaken when he thought back on it.
But it was just a feeling of unease.
He was a member of the Explorer's Association, an experienced ocean explorer. His job was to deal with the vast sea—unlike fishermen who only operated in safe coastal waters, he spent much of his sailing career dealing with various abnormalities and phenomena.
When taking on tasks involving abnormalities, the authorities or the church would inform them in advance about the dangers of the transport process. This warning was usually the shortest part of the entire contract, often just one line: This task is deadly, and specific details cannot be disclosed.
Every captain making a living between city-states knew what they were facing, and more than half of them suffered from the consequences of this deadly career in their later years—spending years dealing with the vast sea, abnormalities and phenomena would inevitably leave their mark on your fate.
Many of his colleagues around the same age had already retired. Some were trapped in endless nightmares, others had mental issues due to various curses, or had physical disabilities from long voyages... or worse.
Captains and sailors on deep-sea ships earned more than the city-dwellers could imagine, but they also faced “occupational hazards” far beyond any other profession.
Captain Lawrence didn’t think of himself as a noble person. He worked in this field mainly for the money. Of course, he had a passion for exploring the sea when he was younger, but like most people, that enthusiasm was hard to maintain for a lifetime. Now... he felt that passion was about to burn out.
While his mind was still clear and the vast sea hadn’t yet entangled his fate, it was time to think about retirement.
Lawrence let out a small sigh and turned to slowly walk toward the captain's cabin.
The priests were still searching and questioning everyone on the ship, so he couldn’t leave the White Oak yet. After that, he would have to be moved to the church for isolation and a series of mental evaluations.
His gaze swept over the familiar ship facilities around him.
This was a good ship, and it was quite new. He had only been in charge of it for five years. In the common saying among captains, “the honeymoon period between the captain and the ship isn’t over yet.” Honestly, he felt a bit reluctant to retire.
But retiring now was better than dying on some future voyage or spending the rest of his life in a mental institution.
...
In the lower district of the city-state, in an old antique shop, a middle-aged man lying on a bed on the second floor slowly opened his eyes, the slightly old and moldy ceiling reflecting in Duncan's view.
“Phew...”
Duncan took a gentle breath, feeling the sensations in his body quickly become clear and stable. He felt his control over this body shift from remote to direct. After a couple of seconds, he pushed himself up with his arms.
Pigeon Ai Yi flew over, flapping its wings, and rubbed its beak against the bedside, chattering, “Dear, welcome home! Do you want to eat first, take a shower, or...”
Duncan was about to stretch when Ai Yi's words nearly made him pull a muscle. He slapped the pigeon on the head and said, “Why do you have so many words?!”
Ai Yi, clearly not an ordinary bird, just danced a few steps to the side and continued chattering, “With just one punch, it hit the nose, blood gushing, the nose crooked, but it seemed like an oil sauce shop opened...”
Duncan decided to ignore the strange bird and got up to look at the table not far away.
On the table lay the various experimental items he had prepared on the Lost Homeland: a sun talisman, a dagger, cheese, a cannonball, and a salted fish.
Everything was intact. With so many random items together, Ai Yi didn’t seem to have “lost” anything.
This pigeon was even more reliable than he had imagined.
Duncan checked each item on the table, confirming that everything was complete and undamaged, and he couldn’t help but glance at the pigeon pacing on the bed, feeling a bit of approval for the bird.
Then he saw Ai Yi pacing at the head of the bed, now back to “Ru Da looked at the time, only to see Zheng Tu standing on the ground”...
Duncan: “...”
He tucked away his approval and sat down at the table to start checking the items one by one.
First was the sun talisman, which showed no changes—it was an extraordinary item completely transformed and controlled by spiritual fire, still quietly flowing with gentle power. The two recent journeys into the spirit world didn’t seem to affect its nature.
The dagger, which lacked extraordinary attributes, also appeared unchanged. Aside from its old style, the blade remained sharp, and the sheath was well-maintained.
Duncan's gaze fell on the piece of cheese he had brought from the Lost Homeland’s kitchen.
The cheese showed no abnormalities; it was still in an inedible state, not rapidly rotting or disappearing after leaving the Lost Homeland as Duncan had imagined.
He then looked at the cannonball—it sat quietly on the table, showing no reaction to the captain's gaze.
Duncan nudged the cannonball and tapped its cast iron shell.
The extraordinary properties had faded from the cannonball.
On the Lost Homeland, even the cannonballs were “active.” This didn’t mean every cannonball had independent “thoughts,” but the ship’s entire ammunition system had a unified “consciousness” controlling it. As a “sub-unit” of this consciousness, the cannonballs on the Lost Homeland would even adjust their positions and accept “inspection” when the captain looked at them.
It was clear that this cannonball had lost its higher-level consciousness control upon leaving the Lost Homeland, becoming an ordinary piece of iron.
Duncan pondered.
If he brought this cannonball back, would it become part of the ammunition store again? Would the Lost Homeland “recognize” this returning “sub-unit”?
His thoughts extended further—ammunition on the Lost Homeland was limited, and fired cannonballs wouldn’t come back (the eight cannonballs used to stabilize Alice didn’t return either), so... could the ship's ammunition be replenished? How would new ammunition become a “sub-unit” of the Lost Homeland?
Thinking a bit further: could the Lost Homeland upgrade its cannon system? Would more advanced cannons and cannonballs work on that ship?
The Lost Homeland was a ghost ship, which made it hard for it to resupply and... “improve” like a regular ship. Items brought onto the ship were just “foreign objects.” If they couldn’t smoothly become part of the Lost Homeland, then these foreign items wouldn’t have the convenient “self-operating” features like other facilities on the ship.
But if there was a way to make these things part of the Lost Homeland... then that ghost ship might unleash even greater power.
At the same time, it would have better living conditions.
Duncan couldn’t help but think a lot about this.
The more he interacted with modern Prand City, the more he felt that the Lost Homeland from a century ago wasn’t as glorious and perfect as its reputation suggested—
That ship might have strange and terrifying powers, but it didn’t even have an electric light or fries. Its weapon system was still old muzzle-loading cannons, and it was hard to say how powerful they were. Plus, without fries, while the spiritual sails were useful, having a steam engine as backup power would also be nice, but the ship didn’t even have a boiler to heat water.
And still no fries.
Duncan silently glanced at the pigeon that had hopped onto the windowsill, staring blankly outside.
The pigeon turned its head, blinking its green eyes at him, “Shall we go to the dock and get some fries?”
“Shut up, don’t mention fries.” Duncan declined the pigeon with a subtle mood and then focused on the last item.
The salted fish, a pure natural food made from delicious gifts caught from the deep sea, tasted pretty good and belonged to the “items outside the Lost Homeland.”
After the journey into the spirit world, this salted fish seemed unchanged.
He would use it to make soup for Nina tonight.
(End of Chapter)