Chapter 236: 'Secret Contact is a Local Custom”

Chapter 236 “Secret Contact is a Local Custom”

“Thank you.”

A simple phrase, but it made Duncan catch his breath instantly.

He was sure that the word hadn’t been on the paper earlier, nor was there any sign of it being dampened by water. It had appeared before him out of nowhere!

He stared intently at the imprint on the paper, as green flames began to surround him. In a flash, his consciousness swept through the entire ship to verify if there were any uninvited “guests” on board, but he found nothing.

How did this word come to be? Who was sending me a message? Why?

To be honest, in that moment, he could somewhat relate to those he had frightened, like Vanna who had done a jump cleave in front of the dressing mirror in a dream, or Tyrian and Lucretia just now. Yet, he still couldn’t resist doing the same thing again.

The pressing question now was why this word had suddenly appeared on the paper.

Duncan’s brow furrowed. Then, he recalled a detail – while speaking with Tyrian earlier, he had joked, “If the deity behind this church is watching, then they owe me a thank you.”

Duncan’s expression grew pensive. His initial reaction to this thought was that it was too far-fetched. How could such a joke be taken seriously? But after this instinctive response, he couldn’t help but further explore this notion... and the more he considered it, the more restless he became.

He lowered his gaze to the damp corner of the paper. After hesitating for a moment, he picked up a pen and wrote a few words on the relatively dry edge near the watermark: “Storm Goddess?”

After writing it, he patiently waited, watching the damp area like a commander awaiting a response after pressing the big button. But no reply came, even after the water had nearly evaporated.

It seemed the other party had left a message and departed... or maybe they had deliberately left it unread?

Duncan’s mind raced with absurd and bizarre thoughts. Despite his time in this strange world, the current level of strangeness far exceeded his prior experiences. Even his usually composed mind struggled to hold on, but after waiting for an extended period with no results, he slowly put down the pen and attempted to regain his composure.

After contemplating for a moment, he stood up and pushed open the wooden door leading to the chart room. At the navigation table, Goathead continued to stare at the foggy chart, turning its head upon hearing the door open.

“Did you notice anything unusual on the ship just now?” Duncan asked without waiting for Goathead to speak.

“On the ship? No, nothing out of the ordinary,” Goathead replied instinctively, then caught on, “Did something happen? I can search the entire ship...”

“No need, I’ve already checked. I just wanted to confirm with you,” Duncan waved his hand, then collected himself and decided not to mention the mysterious writing on the paper, “I just saw Tyrian and Lucretia – they happened to be in contact with each other.”

Goathead sensed that the captain’s current state was somewhat odd, but since he didn’t elaborate, it wisely refrained from asking. “Many people speculate that Tyrian and Lucretia have a distant relationship as siblings. Evidence lies in Tyrian being a pirate in the heart of civilized territory, while his sister is engaged in the great adventure of exploring the borderlands, and they never meet... But now it seems the world’s wild guesses are just that, wild guesses.”Rread latest chapters at novelhall.com

“In my view, their relationship remains strong, especially when they confront me together. Their sense of unspoken understanding has been nurtured since childhood when they both suffered at the hands of their father,” Duncan said, shaking his head, “As for now, they’re merely pursuing different paths in life.”

“Ah, the sentimental musings of an old father,” Goathead exaggeratedly proclaimed, “Are you still communicating effectively with your ‘children’?”

Duncan didn’t say anything, but he nodded slightly, then proceeded to his room.

...

Morris tossed and turned in bed for a while before finally getting up. His wife was still beside him, sleeping peacefully with her light and steady snores punctuating the silence that’s brightened by the glow of the World’s Creation shining through the window.

Everything seemed like a dream, yet everything was real.

Morris rarely struggled with sleep, but ever since his wife “returned,” he found himself unable to drift off, and he knew precisely why.

Fear.

He feared that if he slept, this dreamlike reality would truly become a dream and that all the miracles were merely his own wishful thinking, like eleven years ago when he prayed to subspace and received only a fragile illusion.

Driven by this fear, he dared not even pray to Lahem casually. Over the past several years, even though he deliberately distanced himself from the church, he never stopped his daily habit of prayer. But now, because of the subconscious avoidance of the “Eye of Truth” blessing, he even forcibly restrained himself from praying.

Morris took a deep breath, allowing his slightly foggy mind to awaken in the cool night air. He then got up, put on a coat, and silently stood beside the bed, watching his sleeping wife.

He had been doing this for the past couple of days.

But this time, after only a short while of watching, he suddenly felt a momentary confusion in his mind, followed by a vague call and an indistinct majestic figure appearing in his thoughts. Morris immediately shuddered and realized what had occurred.

The captain was calling him.

The elderly scholar took two deep breaths, fully awakening, and quickly walked to the storeroom connected to the master bedroom. He turned on the light in the storeroom and looked at an antique mirror placed in the corner.

The mirror’s edge was slowly engulfed by ethereal ghost flames, and the captain’s figure gradually materialized within it.

For some reason, what should have been a scene that terrified ordinary people filled Morris with an inexplicable sense of calm.

He found a “sense of reality” in the floating flames and the majestic figure—just as pain can prove one is alive, they confirmed that a miracle had indeed occurred, and that all the evidence before him was genuine.

Morris approached the antique mirror and slightly bowed his head: “Captain, what are your orders?”

Duncan saw Morris and the cluttered room behind him, momentarily imagining a middle-aged salaryman sneaking into the storage room to play games, fearing his wife’s discovery...

The next instant, he composed his face, brushed aside the unsuitable association, and spoke seriously to Morris: “I need you to investigate something that may be related to history or a secret organization.”

“What kind of thing?” Morris inquired.

“A mysterious pattern found on the amulet of a group of ascetics.”