From the Ship of Fools to Earl of Wugang

Edmund was awakened by a gentle pat.

The first feeling upon waking was exhaustion, a deep-seated, bone-deep exhaustion, as if my soul had been repeatedly sanded on sandpaper.

He felt a throbbing pain in his head, and the information he had been bombarding him with the last night still lingered in his mind.

[The "Song of Pearl" deep resonance is being waived... It has been waived!]

[Exemption from mental pollution is in the process of being granted...exemption has been granted!]

[Acquire fragments of knowledge about the overlap between the "Dream Realm" and certain hidden existences in the deep sea...]

"Number 17... wake up."

The hand that slapped his cheek felt weak.

Edmund struggled to open his eyes, and what came into view was a face that was pale and bloodless.

The young nun standing at the head of the bed spoke in a dry, hoarse voice, her usually impeccable nun's habit now somewhat disheveled.

Are you alright?

The nuns were clearly at their limit, having exhausted their strength.

Edmund glanced around; the entire cabin was deathly still, the slumped patients on the beds making it resemble a place where some kind of dried salted fish had been stored.

After the most frenzied night during the period of the stars' return to their positions, most of them fell into a deep, unconscious sleep.

Last night, when the piercing song that seemed to come from the deepest part of the sea mingled with the chorus of countless souls from the sunken ship, the entire cabin almost turned into a living hell.

If it weren't for the cheat code that exempted him from all the crazy noises trying to assimilate his consciousness, Edmund would probably be no different from the unfortunate guys around him now.

He knew very well that last night's Pearl Song was probably the last and strongest wave of impact during this period of star reunion.

Aside from not sleeping well, he was fine and actually gained a lot of knowledge fragments.

"I...I'm fine," Edmund said weakly, mimicking the voice of someone who was exhausted.

The nun breathed a sigh of relief, then ignored him and dragged her heavy steps toward the next bed.

A glint of light flashed in Edmund's eyes as he watched the nun's swaying figure.

The defenses of this Fool's Ship are at their lowest point in history, and the time to escape may have come.

The situation on the ship over the next two days confirmed Edmund's judgment.

The frequency of the nuns' patrols visibly decreased, from once every forty-five minutes to only once every two hours.

Although the restrictions at night still continue, they have become noticeably more relaxed.

Edmund calmly conserved his energy while secretly observing the sea conditions outside the ship.

By the evening of the third day, the situation had subtly changed.

After dinner, instead of immediately sending the patients back to their cells as usual, the nuns brought out basins of steaming warm water.

"Everyone, wash yourselves thoroughly," a nun ordered weakly. "Wash your hands and faces clean."

Edmund held the warm iron basin assigned to him, and the moment his fingers touched the water's surface, his information vision was suddenly triggered.

[Quiet Night Drops]

[A practical secret medicine produced by the Silent Sisters, which penetrates through skin contact and forces the user into a deep sleep of more than eight hours that night.]

The main side effect of these drops is a significant increase in the risk of unconsciously entering a dream state, as the soul is more likely to lose its anchor in the dream world during deep sleep.

[Can exempt from the effects of forced hypnosis!]

Edmund's heart skipped a beat. The nuns were using this on all the patients, which meant they were planning something tonight—to make sure the patients stayed on the ship completely?

Whatever it is, this chaos is the best cover for him to escape.

He outwardly complied with the nun's instructions, carefully wiping his cheeks and neck with water mixed with "Quiet Night Drops," and the drowsy feeling that was trying to drag him into a deep sleep disappeared as soon as it appeared.

The water was warm, and the medicine seemed to be working well—after washing up, the patients around them were already unsteady on their feet as they walked back to their cabins.

Before being strapped to the iron bed, Edmund, while tidying his hospital gown, discreetly retrieved the bar of soap he had hidden a few days earlier and quickly concealed it under the mattress in the corner of the bed.

As the cabin lights were dimmed to their lowest setting, the sound of the hatch closing echoed in the deathly silence.

Edmund adjusted his breathing, feigning a deep and unguarded sleep, just like the other patients.

The ward was filled with the suppressed breathing of patients, and Edmund waited patiently in this rare moment of tranquility.

Around midnight, the Silent Audrey suddenly emitted a dull metallic clang, followed by a violent, unannounced jolt.

Several sleeping patients groaned incoherently, but none of them actually woke up.

Amidst the violent shaking, Edmund opened his eyes, realizing the time had come.

He slowly flipped his right wrist upwards, fitting it into the restraints at the specific angle he had already figured out.

As expected, the adjustment strap loosened, and Edmund stuffed soap shavings into the gap between his wrist and the leather, while simultaneously flipping his wrist and pulling it outwards sharply.

The friction between the leather and skin was neutralized by the soap, but the inner padding of the restraints still refused to sever the back of the hand.

After several attempts, a burning, stinging pain came from my wrist.

Edmund could feel his skin being rubbed raw, but he gritted his teeth and didn't make a sound.

Finally, his right hand, like a snake that had shed its skin, was forcibly pulled out from the gap in the restraints.

With one hand free, Edmund immediately reached for the metal buckle on the restraints on his left hand.

Without the restriction of the adjustment strap, the structure of the buckle itself is not complicated.

After freeing himself without much effort, Edmund held his shoes in his hand and stepped barefoot onto the iron floor, a chill running from his feet to the top of his head.

He crouched in the gap between the iron beds, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.

The lights in the cabin were turned down to the lowest setting, casting a sickly halo of light on the ceiling.

Thirty-seven iron beds were arranged in two rows, and on each bed lay an unconscious body—except for one's own.

No one woke up; the "Quiet Night Drops" were more potent than he had anticipated.

Edmund crouched down and moved along the passageway between the iron beds toward the hatch.

The hatch wasn't locked, which was a pleasant surprise.

He opened the door and walked out of the patient ward, beginning to move toward the deck.

He walked through the corridors, the stairs, and the common areas, almost getting exposed only once along the way.

As he rounded a corner, he heard the nuns talking in hushed tones ahead.

Edmund slipped into a nearby storage room. The voices of two nuns grew louder as they approached, then faded away again. One of them seemed to be complaining, "The wind is bad tonight; getting to port will be a bit of a hassle."

He only emerged from the storage room after the footsteps had completely disappeared.

The word "dock" sparked in his mind. The ship was about to dock.

Edmund recalled that there were several light bulbs with poor contact in the passageway near the stern, making the light noticeably dimmer than in other areas.

He quickened his pace and soon arrived at the hatch leading to the deck.

Here he pressed himself against the wall, peering out through the crack in the door.

The night was thick, and a beam of light slowly rotated in the distance, its dim yellow light sweeping across the sea every few tens of seconds.

Edmund looked toward the stern and his heart was suddenly seized by a surge of ecstasy.

No one was on deck, and the Silent Audrey had already docked at some point.

The pillars of light are like lighthouses in the harbor, and the stacks of containers on the dock form steel hills in the night, casting large, heavy shadows.

Edmund quickly left through the cabin door and went to the dimly lit passageway at the stern, scanning his surroundings.

This is the starboard side, about four meters above the water from the deck. Ideally, several thick cables would be tied between the mast and the hull, with one slackly dangling into the water.

After confirming that there were no foreign objects below, he took off his gray hospital gown, tore off a piece and wrapped it in his hand, while tying the rest around his waist.

Then he flipped over the gunwale, grabbed the dangling cable, squeezed his legs together, and silently slid down the cable toward the water.

The ropes were covered in salt crystals and slimy seaweed. Edmund let go of the ropes as he approached the water's surface and plunged into the harbor waters.

The moment he entered the water, the icy seawater, carrying a nauseating odor, enveloped him.

The water surface was covered with a thin film of oil and sewage from the port area. A strong fishy smell and diesel fumes filled the nostrils, and a sticky feeling enveloped the whole body.

Edmund surfaced with only his mouth and nose above water, and swam quietly toward the nearest dock pillar.

Night fog rises from the surface of the harbor, like a gray-white veil, separating the water from the distant lights into two worlds.

The huge shadows of the containers were cast on the water, creating patches of safe, dark areas.

Edmund weaved through the shadows, trying to keep his swimming as quiet as possible—his swimming pool membership from his previous life hadn't been a waste after all.

Behind us, the pale gold hull of the silent Audrey was faintly visible in the night mist, the holy anointing on its hull gleaming under the port lights, like a sleeping behemoth.

There were no alarms, shouts, or pursuers—none of these unexpected events occurred.

Edmund grabbed the edge of a barnacle on a dock pillar and pulled himself out of the water, enduring the stinging pain in his palm.

He huddled in the gap between the support pillar and the container, wrung out his shirt and put it back on.

The port area was quiet, with only the distant lighthouse beam streaking across the night sky.

Edmund took one last look at the Ship of Fools and laughed heartily.

"Goodbye, Granny. Thank you for all the bread and corned beef."

Then, barefoot and reeking of the stench of the port's sewage, he walked into the darkness of the dock.