From the Ship of Fools to Earl of Wugang

Once the sea breeze was cut off, the air immediately became warm, and the environment inside the cabin was truly eye-opening.

This rather large cabin did not provide patients with individual padded-walled compartments; instead, they were securely bound together with two rows of narrow iron beds, and a small medical area was partitioned off further inside.

The electric light hanging from the beam illuminated the strange patients—men and women of different ages, dressed uniformly, yet each fool had their own unique brilliance.

The shackles of the body did not stop the madmen's spirits from running wild; they began an endless, tragic yet joyful chorus with their respective madness.

A man muttering to himself, a man weeping softly, and a man preaching fervently in bed.

"...Where the foam rises, the pearl sinks. When the tide recedes, that city will rise from the abyss, and all those who drowned because of faith will be resurrected..."

The nuns weren't in this cabin; Edmund could hear slow, rhythmic footsteps on the upper deck.

Edmund floated near the top of the cabin, enduring the slight vibrations transmitted through the ship's steel plates, and began to observe the passengers.

To his surprise, as his "view" shifted, streams of information began to appear on these madmen.

John Carlson, 47, blacksmith. Diagnosed with a serious heart condition after using sorcery to cure an illness and attempting to sacrifice his apprentice. He is not exempt from legal consequences.

Mary Shaw, 32, housewife. Diagnosed with a confirmed affair with a demon agent... A low-level demonic spirit resides in her prefrontal cortex, suppressed by holy magic, exempting her from the contract's consequences.

Alice Webber, 19 years old, student. Diagnosed with a parasitic worm called "Singing Cochlea" after causing widespread panic due to her daily dawn singing... Her vocal organs are being continuously modified, and she cannot escape its effects!

......

The nun was out of the question, and Edmund began to focus on finding his target among the thirty-seven madmen.

He knew he was currently a wandering soul, and shouldn't be picky. But he had to find a decent body, like no women, no old people, no people with disabilities—after all, it would probably take a long time, and being picky now would save him a lot of trouble later.

Edmund's "gaze" swept over one passenger after another, the flow of information surging and receding like a tide, revealing the absurd and pathetic reality behind those diagnosed with "Divine Ecstasy Syndrome".

He understood somewhat; this was probably a cover-up for physical symptoms caused by certain supernatural forces.

But he soon realized that he had oversimplified things; most of the bodies he had seen were unsuitable.

The cold outside once again caught up with him, and the white light from the ceiling lamp seemed to become dazzling. An increasingly intense sense of urgency made Edmund's form sway precariously.

However, he remained miraculously calm and didn't seem to care much. After all, he had just experienced a resurrection comparable to Su Ge's; his life was purely by chance.

And good fortune smiled upon "Lockman" once again.

[Lane Hall, 22, art student. Diagnosed after creating seven unusual oil paintings... He has a large number of intrusive memories in his brain leading to personality fragmentation, but is eligible for exemption!]

The words "exempt" appeared again, and Edmund began to observe the young man more closely.

Ryan's body looked very well-proportioned; although thin, his frame was well-proportioned, and his fingers were long and slender—the kind of hands that hold a paintbrush.

Most importantly, he was a young man with all four limbs intact, and he was just as handsome as he was in his previous life.

That's him.

But here's the problem: how do you "enter" this body?

Edmund tentatively floated toward Lane. When his spirit touched the young man's body, a slight sense of repulsion came over him.

Ryan's body twitched slightly, but quickly returned to normal.

Is some kind of…ritual required? Or specific conditions? Edmund pondered, recalling the information in the glowing text.

The transformation into a new form is extremely fragile; a suitable vessel must be found as soon as possible.

The specific method was not explained, but since it is a "carrier", it may be as simple as wearing clothes.

Edmund decided to try again, this time without being cautious, and instead lay down directly on top of her, trying to wrap around Ryan's body.

As he did this, Ryan suddenly began to tremble violently.

The young man's body, bound by the restraints, began to convulse. His eyes, no longer empty, were filled with extreme fear as he stared intently at Edmund's location.

He saw it! He saw the spirit floating in mid-air!

"Hehehe—Ah!!"

A scream escaped Ryan's throat, and the surrounding madmen screamed even louder at the sound, some even starting to wail.

"Damn it," Edmund cursed under his breath.

This commotion might alert the nuns upstairs, so he had to act quickly.

Edmund focused his consciousness, aiming it like a needle at Ryan's brow.

This time, there was no repulsion, but rather a strange suction—like the lungs instinctively drawing air in when drowning, whether it's air or seawater.

Ryan's body arched sharply before crashing down.

Edmund felt dizzy.

Countless images, sounds, feelings, and memories flooded in—paints, masterpieces in art galleries, mixed colors on a palette, students whispering among themselves, and those eerie paintings.

"No...don't..." Ryan's consciousness struggled.

[The intrusive memories have been sealed; it is determined that they were caused by contact with the spirit world, and further processing is pending.]

"Peace, and...rest in peace," Edmund murmured. "I will continue to see this world through your eyes."

The struggle gradually subsided, and Edmund soon felt himself sinking into a body, a warm and real body.

The feeling of restraints on my body, a bitter taste in my mouth, the mixed smells of the cabin filling my nostrils, and my ears picking up sounds—the murmurs from the patient in the next bed, the sobs of a patient in the distance, the creaking of the metal bed, and…

Footsteps approaching on the deck.

This means he succeeded.

At the same time, Edmund also felt a strong sense of weakness and dizziness.

The process of taking over the body seemed to have generated enormous energy; he could feel the physical excitement and the mental exhaustion that came from this disconnect.

And Ryan's consciousness had not completely disappeared, but was curled up in a corner of his mind, like a frightened animal.

"Hey! Number 17!" a stern female voice rang out.

Edmund, or rather Lane, looked up with difficulty and saw two women, one tall and stout and the other short and thin, dressed in black nuns' habit, standing at the foot of the bed.

They were both wearing thick masks, only their eyes were visible. One of them was holding a leather notepad, and the other was carrying a suitcase.

"It seems to be you. Let's use a dose of 'Ningxi Oil' first."

The surrounding wailing and howling seemed to have no effect on the two men's business. The short, thin nun was writing something quickly on a leather notepad, while the tall, fat man opened his briefcase and took out a syringe that gleamed coldly.

Edmund's heart pounded as he looked at the pale blue liquid in the syringe.

Ningxi Oil

The potion, produced by the Order of Our Lady of Silence through a series of complex processes, is based on an anesthetic invented by the master apothecary Dr. Starmer. It contains aconite... and can temporarily suppress certain abnormal influences (especially those originating from Dionysus) through purification, but long-term use can cause brain nerve damage.

[Purification effects may be waived, but nerve damage is not!]

I've just possessed the body of a madman. Even with a cheat code protecting me, who knows what kind of trouble this needle might cause?

Edmund, known as "Number 17"—now known to the public as Lane Hall—forced himself to mimic the bewildered yet slightly fearful look in Lane's memory as he gazed at the two nuns.

The short, thin nun took out a syringe filled with a pale blue, viscous liquid and skillfully expelled the air.

"Hold him down."

The tall, stout nun closed the recorder's tablet and easily pressed down on Edmund's shoulders and arms with strength befitting her size.

"No...don't want that..." Edmund managed to squeeze out a breath from his throat.

"Quiet, child. This is for your own good, so that you can sleep soundly away from images you shouldn't see."