From the Ship of Fools to Earl of Wugang

On the second day of the voyage, the Grey Swallow headed northeast along its planned route. The sea was slightly rougher than the previous day, causing the ship to rise and fall, which made many people seasick.

Edmund spent the morning walking around the areas accessible to passengers several times. His intuition quickly connected impressions of the ship's staircases, passageways, and cabin doors, but it didn't help him find the source of the bell.

Passengers are prohibited from entering the aft cargo hold and crew quarters. Approaching them rashly will only attract unnecessary questions, and one chime is not enough to prove that the Grey Swallow is in danger.

Edmund briefly listened with the tide-listening stone as he passed the stern, but to no avail.

In the afternoon, the clouds began to lower. Captain Morrow spent noticeably more time on deck, checking the sea conditions with the first mate several times.

Edmund asked the old sailor he had spoken with the day before, who only said that the weather in this area changes very quickly, and that it is always more reliable to make some preparations in advance than to be caught off guard at the last minute.

As evening approached, a thin fog gradually appeared over the gray sea.

The initial fog was only close to the sea surface, and the crew could still see the distant waves and the starlight overhead from the deck. The crew did not show any obvious concern about this.

However, less than an hour after nightfall, the fog thickened rapidly.

As the distant sea gradually disappeared from view, the lights of the Grey Swallow could only illuminate a very small area, and intermittent static appeared on the radio equipment.

Edmund heard the sound of the Grey Swallow's engine gradually decrease, and the seawater around the ship, which had been churned by the propeller, was no longer as violent as before.

Passengers who had already returned to their cabins began to notice something was wrong. Some came to the corridor to inquire about the situation, and some children cried because of the gray and white light outside the window.

Nora, accompanied by two crew members, reassured everyone that it was just common sea fog and asked all passengers to remain in the cabin for the time being.

Edmund sneaked up to the stairs on the upper deck and activated his spiritual awareness, quickly discovering that the surrounding spiritual environment was slowly changing.

Just as the Grey Swallow was gradually slowing down, Edmund heard the bells again, this time much clearer than the night before.

The deep chimes echoed along the steel plates throughout the hull, causing a slight tremor in the cabin walls, metal staircases, and deck.

Edmund then saw several old sailors walk onto the deck, their puzzled expressions quickly turning serious.

A few seconds after the chimes faded, a huge beam of light appeared in the thick fog in the distance.

The beam of light swept across the sea, lingered briefly over the hull of the Grey Swallow, and then slowly turned in another direction. The blinding white light pierced through the thick fog, casting blurry shadows on the deck railings and funnel.

As the beam of light moved, the outline of a tall lighthouse gradually came into view.

At that moment, Edmund heard a faint sound of water coming from the thick fog. A small boat was approaching from the direction of the lighthouse, but it was moving much faster than a regular pilot boat.

The black bow cut through the fog, rapidly expanding within the range illuminated by the Grey Swallow's lights.

A figure in an old-fashioned port uniform stood at the bow of the boat. The uniform was at least decades out of style, and the dark fabric was soaked with seawater. The skin under the brim of the hat was pale from long-term immersion.

After the small boat got close to the Grey Swallow, the man grabbed the metal structure on the outside of the ship and climbed directly onto the deck.

Several sailors on deck immediately grabbed sticks, poles, and fire-fighting tools and approached. The stranger showed no hostility, only making his demands in a stiff, muffled voice.

"I need to see the ship's captain. Please do not delay port operations."

At this point, Edmund realized its true nature.

[Pilot (Spirit)]

[A soul bound to the gap between the spirit worlds by a past event, unable to return to the mortal realm. It faithfully performs its work on the last night before the anchorage outside Twilight Harbor sank, guiding ships from the nearby waters into a port that no longer exists.]

Captain Moreau quickly came up to the deck and, across a few sailors, asked, "I am Captain Albert Moreau of the Grey Swallow. Which port are you from, and what mission are you on?"

The pilot raised his hand, which had turned white from being soaked in seawater, and showed a document that was constantly dripping water.

"I am here to announce that the search for the 'Black Crown' is about to begin. Unrelated vessels must immediately move into the outer anchorage to avoid interfering with the search."

Moro asked again what port this was, but the other party did not give an answer.

"Unrelated vessels must accept pilotage and anchor in the outer anchorage area. Those who refuse to comply with port orders will be held fully responsible for interfering with the search efforts."

Captain Moreau made a decisive decision: "There is no port nearby, and the Grey Swallow has not received any legitimate radio notices—please leave the ship immediately."

The pilot was silent for a few seconds, then turned and raised his right hand toward the small boat.

A thick, grayish-white cable flew out of the small boat, crossed the ship's side, and draped over the edge of the Grey Swallow's deck.

After contacting the hull, the cable tightened on its own, and a layer of grayish-white viscous liquid containing salt particles quickly seeped out from its surface, adhering firmly to the metal structure.

Immediately afterward, a tremor came from the Grey Swallow. Just as everyone on the deck was busy steadying themselves, an urgent report came through the engine room's communication tube.

"Captain, the engine load is increasing, and the ship is being towed from the starboard stern!"

The pilot boat, much smaller than the Grey Swallow, seemed to unleash an unusual force, forcibly dragging the ship toward the lighthouse in the fog.

Captain Moreau immediately opened the deck fire cabinet and took out a heavy-looking, pointed fire axe. Edmund's eyes lit up when he saw the axe.

[The Demolition Axe: A tool that has accumulated extraordinary properties through long-term maritime rescue and emergency demolition work. It is more effective at destroying structures and is equally effective against lower-level spiritual bonds attached to physical structures.]

Moro may not have known the great significance of the tool in his hand, but he knew very well what to do in this situation—he raised his axe and chopped at the cable.

With the first blow, a black crack appeared on the surface of the gray-white cable.

The pilot on the small boat suddenly looked up, his previously stiff face showing a change for the first time. He took a step forward, and several sailors immediately blocked his path with wooden sticks.

The second axe cut the rope nearly halfway in, and a stream of black water with a putrid smell flowed out of it.

When the third axe fell, the entire cable snapped in the middle. The section that lost its traction quickly withered, shrinking into a clump of grayish-white seaweed on the deck.

With the increased power from the engine room continuing to exert its force, the Grey Swallow began to turn back to its original course.

The pilot who boarded the ship stretched out his hands to Moro, his swollen fingers curled into a grasping motion, and uttered a series of indistinct and rapid whispers.

Several sailors immediately swung wooden sticks and poles to stop him, but the sticks went straight through the pilot's body, only bringing out a large amount of wet, cold mist from his uniform.

The other side remained unaffected and continued to approach Moro step by step.

The old sailor who had spoken with Edmund earlier suddenly picked up a bottle of rum from the side, stuffed it with a piece of cotton cloth, lit it, and decisively smashed it at the pilot.

The bottle pierced through the translucent body and shattered on the deck. The burning liquid clung to the soaked uniform, and the flames briefly illuminated the pilot's pale face.

The pilot opened his mouth, and a hoarse sound came from deep in his throat. His body then turned into a large cloud of mist and quickly dissipated in the flames.

Before the sailors on deck could even breathe a sigh of relief, the observer pointed at the thick fog and shouted, "That thing has gone back to the small boat! It's still following us!"

Sure enough, the pilot stood on the bow of the small black boat again, with no visible burn marks on his body.

Even after losing the mooring line, the small boat continued to pursue the Grey Swallow. The lighthouse beam in the fog began to sweep across the ship repeatedly, causing it to veer off course each time it was illuminated.

The Grey Swallow was unable to gain any distance, and just then the third bell rang from inside the ship.

A deep sound echoed throughout the ship, and the small boat in the thick fog immediately adjusted its course and followed the Grey Swallow's trail.

Captain Morrow looked towards the cabin entrance: "Where is the bell coming from?"