Ashes Of Deep Sea Chapter 390

Chapter 390: Chapter 394: Encounter in the Fog Chapter 390: Chapter 394: Encounter in the Fog “Restless in spirit?” Bishop Ivan's tone clearly changed after hearing Agatha's reply. He stared intently into Agatha's eyes. “For a saint, 'restlessness in spirit' is not a good sign… What happened? When did it start?”

“It started after I came back from that polluted water treatment center,” Agatha didn't conceal anything, for she knew that the old bishop before her was the most trustworthy person in the entire City-State. “I always feel like I've forgotten something, as if… I left something behind there. But I've reviewed what happened there over and over again and haven't found any inconsistencies.”

“That water treatment center…” Bishop Ivan's voice was low. He, of course, knew what Agatha was referring to. The incident had been immediately reported to the cathedral and the town hall when it occurred, and the investigation and purification work were still going on in full swing. “I'm also following this matter–the survivor from the management team is still receiving treatment in a psychiatric hospital, the original dozen or so employees from the center are still missing, and according to the sampling report from the site, you should have purified the entire facility's pollution–at least in theory, there shouldn't be any hidden dangers left.”

“But I still feel uneasy,” Agatha confessed. “Though there's no evidence, I must have overlooked something.”

“…Have you checked your spiritual state? How are the results of cognitive recalibration?”

“Of course, I've checked,” Agatha nodded. “I've done both self-cognition recalibration and subconscious checks with the help of a psychiatrist, and I didn't find any problems.”

Bishop Ivan didn't respond immediately, and after a few seconds, he broke the silence with a thoughtful tone, “Then it's possible that your own 'inner self' is issuing a warning–it may come from your subconscious, your spiritual sight, or even your faith.”

“I will go back there to check again,” Agatha nodded. “Before that, I'm going to the prayer room to pray for a while–hopefully, the Lord will give me some guidance.”

Bishop Ivan nodded slightly, “Go ahead, I hope the prayer can alleviate your trouble.”

Agatha hummed in acknowledgment, stood up from the platform holding the spirit coffins, and a moment later, vanished outside the doors of the Sanctuary of Contemplation.

The vast sanctuary quieted down, with only Ivan, the bishop akin to a mummy, still sitting on the edge of the spirit coffin. He watched the direction Agatha had left, seemingly lost in thought, and after who knows how long, he sighed softly and traced the triangular emblem of the death god Bartok on his chest, “May the Lord guide…”

In the silent Sanctuary of Contemplation, the candlesticks embedded in the niches burned quietly. The flames flickered silently, and the gleaming black marble floor reflected the brightness of the candlesticks around. Near those dancing flames, it seemed as if many fleeting shadows passed by like phantoms.

Outside the Frost City, along the boundary line of the nearby maritime region, a patrol ship flying the Frost Navy's flag was inspecting the sea surface according to the set course.

A naval commander walked up to the ship's bow deck, frowning as he looked toward the distant sea–the cold gleam of the Creation of the World fell from the sky, casting a pale shimmer over the sea's glittering waves. Amongst those waves, one could occasionally see large and small chunks of ice floating by. These ice fragments drifted neatly in one direction in the distance, vaguely appearing to form an invisible “boundary.”

The commander, of course, knew what these seemingly natural “icebergs” were all about–they weren't “ice fragments” at all but part of the Mist Fleet.

That was the ice surrounding the Sea Mist when the cursed Ghost Ship appeared on the seas. Whenever it materialized, such ice would appear around it, symbolizing the “territory” of the pirate captain, as well as the manifestation of the Curse's power of the Sea Mist. Any ship that dared approach the Sea Mist without permission would first be subjected to a “baptism” by these icebergs. The milder cases were mere impediments to movement, while more severe cases could end up frozen on the sea surface, turning all aboard the ship into souls trapped in ice.

The Sea Mist often used this method to blockade routes, intercept merchant ships passing through its territory, and collect what they called an “ice handling service fee”–in most cases, the ship didn't have to fire a single shot to accomplish this shameful act of extortion.

Of course, for now, the Mist Fleet had temporarily ceased hostilities with the Frost Navy, and those icebergs wouldn't actively spread to the naval patrol ships. Still, their mere presence was a form of coercive deterrence, the message clear:
Even here, at Frost's doorstep, beyond lay the Mist Fleet's territory.

The commander, clad in a Frost Navy uniform, gritted his teeth with a sigh, trying to calm his mind.

The overall situation was paramount, soldiers should obey their superiors' judgments–the City-State needed safety, and that safety required the Mist Fleet's cooperation.

The blockade of the entire sea area took precedence over everything else.

“The fog is rising at sea again,” a junior officer approached the deck, murmuring as he looked at the distance, “It's been happening almost every day.”

The patrol ship's commander looked up at the sea ahead.

As his subordinate said, fog was emerging on the sea–a veil of mist was gradually gathering on the sea surface and spreading around that boundary of “icebergs.” The light of the Creation of the World permeated the fog, casting an eerie pallor over the area.

“It's probably the Sea Mist bringing it in again,” the commander frowned. “Wherever that ship goes, ice and fog seem to follow.”

“The 'Sea Mist' hasn't moved from its position,” a subordinate said, “Maybe that 'pirate general' just wanted to show off his presence?”

“No matter what he thinks,” the commander shook his head, “we should not get close to the foggy and icy areas–Frost must not be the first to break the treaty.”

“Yes.”

The commander grunted, then looked back at the distant fog with a hint of puzzlement, “But now that you mention it… isn't the fog a bit thicker than usual tonight?”

Following the commander's gaze, the subordinate noticed that the patch of fog lingering around the icebergs was indeed expanding and seemed denser than usual. And within the thickening fog, something seemed to be swaying vaguely.

“The fog is getting thicker,” the junior officer muttered, “Is there something in the fog?”

“…Something's not right.”

As the patrol ship commander spoke, his expression suddenly changed. He quickly picked up a pair of binoculars and looked in the direction of the dense fog. After a moment of careful observation, he confirmed that there indeed was something moving within the fog–a massive shape, approaching.

A ship!

“It's a ship, coming from the Mist Fleet's patrolled area,” the commander set down the binoculars, speaking rapidly, “Signal with lights–The Mist Fleet has crossed the border; tell them to stop immediately.”

“Yes!”

The junior officer responded loudly and then quickly ran toward the rear of the deck. Shortly after, the patrol ship's large searchlights installed on the upper deck came on, sending a series of light signals into the dense fog.

However, the shadow of the ship within the thickening fog showed no signs of slowing down.

The patrol ship commander stared intently at the vague shape in the fog, watching as the other vessel not only failed to slow down but actually sped up towards them. As it approached, even the surrounding sea mist seemed to be spreading out as if consciously–within mere moments, the surging fog had already engulfed the areas within a hundred meters around the patrol ship, and it seemed as if it was about to encircle the ship from all sides!

“Damn pirates!”

The patrol ship commander couldn't help but curse silently, and turned to run briskly up to the bridge. Rushing to the helm, he shouted, “Reverse, turn, that thing is heading straight for us–Has the Mist Fleet responded?”

“No response to the light signals! No response to short-range calls either!” a soldier at the control console shouted back, “We're calling the 'Sea Mist' on the agreed frequency, but there's no answer… hold on, there's a response now!”

The communication light on the console suddenly lit up, and the automatic recorder began to clack away, spitting out a long strip of perforated tape from the machine's mouth. The signalman swiftly picked up the tape and read the symbols, only to look up bewildered moments later: “The Mist Fleet says they haven't crossed the border–their ships are all stationary.”

“All stationary?”

The patrol ship commander's eyes widened with shock, and then he abruptly looked up, towards the porthole outside–the fog had already spread to the bow of the patrol ship. Despite the helmsman's efforts to turn, it was clear that the movement of the ship could not keep up with the eerie spread of the mist. The vague shadow in the surging fog was getting closer and closer.

“Turn, hard to port, turn!”

The patrol ship lurched sharply, the steam core letting out a strangled roar as both the steering rudder and the side thrusters powered up, almost as if trying to dismantle the ship with their force, turning it around in the fog. Amidst a violent shake and a series of noise, the patrol ship commander gripped the rail beside him tightly and widened his eyes to view the scene outside the window–
Through the suddenly clearing fog, a massive ship nearly brushed past the railing of the patrol ship's hull.

It was neither a member of the Frost Navy nor one of the 'Sea Mist'–it was a patchwork and rust-covered warship from an old era, the severely damaged hull paint and outdated bow design seemed to silently speak of the many years of hardship it had suffered.

The patrol ship commander watched dumbfounded as the colossal ship passed by their patrol vessel. It took him several seconds to react, and he suddenly recalled an old diagram and record he had seen in a document–
“It's the 'Warrior,' sunk forty years ago…”
(Book recommendation time, from the author 'Yi Xi Cheng Dao' and his 'Warlord's Divine Throne.' Open up God's Domain, manage the God's Domain, nurture a following, build an army, conquer planes, plunder resources, and inherit ancient legacies.)

Chapter end

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