Ashes Of Deep Sea Chapter 370

Chapter 370: Chapter 374 Frost Messenger Chapter 370: Chapter 374 Frost Messenger Tirian stood on the towering bridge of the Sea Mist, his gaze piercing through the broad windows, fixating on the vast sea beyond.

That was once the direction of Dagger Island–but now, there was nothing but a wide stretch of sea and a few reconnaissance boats still fruitlessly searching for clues.

Dagger Island had been missing for so long, yet neither the Frost Folk nor the Mist Fleet had found anything in these waters.

The pirate sighed deeply, turned around, and left the bridge, then walked into his own captain's quarters–on the desk of the captain's quarters, there sat an oval-shaped mirror with an antique aura, oddly out of place with the Sea Mist's overall advanced style.

Tirian approached the mirror and, seeing his own reflection, appeared somewhat hesitant.

However, he quickly cast aside his hesitation, reached into a drawer, and pulled out a carved candleholder used for rituals, placing it in front of the mirror.

“Sea Mist calling Homeloss…” Tirian murmured softly. At that moment, he felt like one of those sailors beguiled by the phantoms of the Endless Sea, offering sacrifices in their moment of madness to summon the horrifying powers from the dark depths–indeed, the power he sought to call upon was no less terrifying.

It just so happened to be his father.

The candleholder lit up by itself, the bright flame dancing above the candle, reflected in the mirror. Tirian watched the small flame nervously, saw it flicker a few times, then quickly take on a ghostly green hue, confirming that his call had successfully been answered.

The oval surface of the mirror quickly covered with the hue of flames, and the center of the mirror turned ink-black, erasing Tirian's reflection. Moments later, another figure emerged–this was Duncan himself, who remained on the Homeloss.

Duncan was holding a piece of bread, and he looked up, giving a glance toward the mirror, “I was just about to have lunch–have you eaten?”

“Uh… not yet.” Tirian hesitated for a moment, somewhat uncomfortably responding. For some reason, his father, having regained his humanity, seemed subtly changed. His way of greeting was so unusual; the good news was that this manner was indeed very warm and friendly. However, Tirian had not had such a natural conversation with his father in so long that he still felt awkward.

“You should have lunch on time, it's good for your health,” Duncan said casually, “Was there something you needed?”

“We've searched the entire area around Dagger Island and haven't found anything,” Tirian steadied himself, bringing his focus back to the matter at hand, “The Frostfolk are still persisting in their search, but I believe they will also end up unfruitful.”

“The deep sea swallowed the island, the root of the problem is underwater; searching on the surface is pointless–and now, the biggest problem is that we lack the proper diving equipment,” Duncan shook his head, “Additionally, the city is becoming tense now. The Church is soon going to expand their search area to the Second Canal–rest assured, I've already sent a warning to your informants.”

Tirian tensed up involuntarily when he heard the Church would search the Second Canal, but relaxed as Duncan finished his sentence, then frowned, “They suspect heretics' nests hidden in the Second Canal?”

“After all, they've searched every other part of the City-State,” Duncan lifted his eyelids, “Apart from the Second Canal, they are out of options.”

Tirian frowned in silence, and seeing this, Duncan asked, “What, do you have a theory?”

“… I don't believe they'll find any clues in the Second Canal,” Tirian slowly shook his head, “While my informants don't control the entire Second Canal, they are well-acquainted with the situation below and control several key nodes. If there really is a large group of Annihilation Cultists hidden there, performing grand rituals… I should've heard something.”

“Perhaps they are really well hidden, or maybe their rituals have already warped the perception of all informants who noticed anything–you either don't find out, or if you do notice, you're corrupted, and that prevents you from receiving accurate information.”

Tirian slowly nodded, “… That is a plausible explanation, especially since you have already confirmed the presence of cognitive contamination within the City-State.”

“I'll also keep an eye on the Second Canal,” Duncan in the mirror said, “I'm curious where these Annihilation Cultists are exactly hiding–if in this process your people run into trouble, I'll try to help.”

“Thank you very much,” Tirian immediately bowed his head.

Just then, a sudden knock on the door interrupted the conversation in the captain's quarters.

“Someone is looking for you,” Duncan in the mirror noticed the disturbance on this side, “If there's nothing else, you should go and attend to your duties.”

“Alright, Father.”

The figure in the mirror faded away, and the fire at the edges of the mirror subsided, the candleholder before the mirror gradually returning to its original state.

Tirian exhaled softly, feeling the pressure gradually fade from his heart, then furrowed his brow and stood up to open the door, “What's happening?”

“A fast ship from Frost,” an undead sailor with a hole in his head stood outside the door, saluting while speaking, “They are approaching under the flags and light signals of 'non-violent action' and 'request for contact', looking like a group of… envoys.”

“Envoys?” Tirian was momentarily surprised, but soon, a gleam of interest appeared on his face, “This is rather interesting… They really can't sit still.”

“Shall we fire?” the sailor looked expectantly at his captain.

“Fire my ass–let them come,” Tirian glared at the sailor, then quickly added, “Allow only three people to board. If they don't accept, they can go back where they came from.”

On the mechanical fast ship flying the Frost City-State flag, a man dressed in neat formalwear and wearing gold-rimmed glasses stood on the bow deck, nervously taking off his glasses to wipe them repeatedly, while raising his head to look at the steel warship gradually looming larger in his view.

Sea Mist approached closer, its towering bow like a mountain floating on the icy sea, the oppression it brought intensifying, and around it, the fragmented ice seemed like living creatures, floating and cruising in the water, even consciously circling around the hull of the mechanical fast ship and continuously colliding with the near waterline body.

The sound of the ice actively crashing into the hull was irritating and nervewracking.

The confidential secretary couldn't help wiping his glasses again, inadvertently imagining stories passed mouth to mouth in the Frost City-State–all revolving around the curse of the open sea, the pirates in the fog, sailors frozen into ice statues in their sleep, and stories involving children.

“We're close enough,” the confidential secretary put his glasses back on, breathed in gently, and said to the officer by his side, “Let's stop here–if we move any further forward, that warship will likely open fire.”

“Minimum speed, turn left!” The officer turned his head and loudly instructed the signal sailor.

The mechanical fast ship slowed down abruptly, slightly adjusting its heading to gradually become parallel with the massive steel warship.

Meanwhile, the officer monitored the movement on the Sea Mist.

He saw sudden flashing lights on the warship, followed by a sailor appearing at the ship's rail, waving flags toward the mechanical fast ship.

“They're signaling,” the confidential secretary quickly asked, “What does it mean?”

“Sea Mist has accepted our request… Thank God, this time it's a signal that the living can understand,” the officer visibly relaxed, quickly noticing a small boat being lowered from the side of the warship, “And they have lowered a boat for transferring personnel.”

“God of Death's blessing… I thought they were going to open fire directly.” The confidential secretary also visibly relaxed. As the first “envoy” sent to negotiate with the Mist Fleet, although he had been mentally prepared to serve the City-State to the end before coming, he still felt a sense of relief as if he had narrowly escaped disaster.

The small boat sent from Sea Mist soon arrived next to the Frostfolk's mechanical fast ship, with several sailors wearing old era naval uniforms sitting on it.

The prominent queen's emblem on their arms, along with the uniforms from a bygone era, were strikingly conspicuous. More eye-catching than their attire was their prestigious status as undead.

Among them, two had large holes in their heads, another had a hole through his chest, and only one appeared unharmed–yet swollen and horrifying like a corpse soaked in seawater for three days.

The Frost sailors on the mechanical fast ship were somewhat tense at the sight of these undead sailors, and many displayed complex expressions as they watched them step onto the Frost ship.

However, the undead sailors clearly didn't mind the attitudes of the living; they directly approached the person who appeared to hold the highest military rank at the scene.

“Who is the envoy?”

“It's me,” the man in short formalwear and gold-rimmed glasses immediately stepped forward. He controlled the nervousness in his heart and tried not to overly focus on the horrifying features of the undead sailors, striving to maintain a calm tone, “My name is Eddie Ruhl, representing the Frost City-State to negotiate with the Mist Fleet.”

“A clerk?” The swollen-bodied undead sailor raised an eyebrow, sizing up the secretary who claimed to be Eddie, with a teasing tone, “I thought you'd send at least a few military representatives–has the Frost Navy run so low on brave soldiers?”

An accompanying officer immediately stepped forward half a step, but before he could speak, Eddie put out a hand to stop him.

“I am the envoy,” the bespectacled civilian official looked at the undead sailor before him and emphasized, “Take me to General Tirian.”

Chapter end

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