Chapter 309: Unlucky Dog

Duncan was genuinely taken aback for a few seconds before he realized what Dog meant by its words—not because he couldn’t understand what it was saying, but because he needed to digest the shocking revelation.

“Are you sure?” He picked up the small piece of gray-black flesh with a faint blue tint from the small iron box and pinched it, “This thing is part of the Nether Lord?”

“You... You’re still pinching it?!” Dog’s voice changed pitch as it watched Duncan’s overly “bold” action, “Don’t you feel the immense pressure and power emanating from it?”

“No,” Duncan shook his head, then added, “Not only do I not feel it, but Vanna and Morris don’t have much of a reaction either. They only think this thing is somewhat dangerous or unsettling, but nothing as dramatic as you.”

Listening to Duncan’s words, Dog unconsciously crouched down, assuming a fully alert posture next to the table, the blood-red glow flickering on and off in its eyes. After a while, it muttered, “It seems to have lost its vitality... or perhaps you’ve suppressed its vitality, but I can’t tell. I’m a shadow demon, and I have an inseparable connection with the Nether Lord. In my eyes... there’s only endless shadow and pressure.”

“It might indeed have something to do with your constitution,” Duncan said. As he closed the lid of the tobacco box and casually put it back in his pocket, he noticed that Dog’s condition had visibly relaxed as he did so, “I’ll put it away for now; you might feel better.”

“Thank... Thank you, Captain,” Dog’s trembling finally lessened a bit. It shakily stood up but still looked unsettled, staring at Duncan’s pocket, “You just said... this flesh came from the depths of the Obsidian?”

“Yes, and from a mortal’s mouth,” Duncan sighed, recounting the events that had occurred after sending Dog and Shirley back to the Vanished, “... We found this flesh sample in the mouth of Christo Babelli.”

Upon hearing the full account, Dog’s astonishment was evident.

It looked up and exchanged glances with Shirley, and then for half a minute, neither of them spoke. After an unknown amount of time, Shirley broke the silence, “You mean to say... that captain named Christo... bit off a piece of flesh from a deity before he died... does the Nether Lord count as a deity?”

“For mortals, there’s no difference; ‘godlike’ is a very broad concept,” Dog said solemnly, shaking his head slowly, “I... still can’t believe it. I can’t imagine how he did it. Mortals don’t even have the strength to move a finger in front of the Nether Lord, let alone fight back... moreover, how did he see the Nether Lord?”

“Did the Obsidian venture into the abyssal part of the ocean?” Duncan frowned, “Instead of sinking continuously in the real dimension after it sank in Frost’s ocean, was it transported away? Or... beneath Frost’s deep sea, is there actually a passage to the realm of shadow demons?”

“I don’t think it’s likely,” Dog immediately shook its head. “I’ve never heard of a place in the shadow realm that’s directly connected to the real dimension, and if there really was a leak between the two places, Frost would have been torn apart by demons that emerged. The sinking of the Obsidian happened six years ago.”

Duncan pondered for a moment.

However, the information he had now was too scarce, and no matter how much he thought and speculated, it was difficult to find a reasonable explanation.

One thing was certain though: the “flesh” brought out from the Obsidian was extremely dangerous, and it seemed best not to take it out casually.

Of course, he also considered whether to burn the flesh directly or stuff it into the main cannon of the Vanished. Based on the feedback he felt after coming into contact with the flesh, Duncan believed that it could be burned away by his ghost fire as “supernatural fuel.” But after briefly weighing the options, he decided to keep it for now.

What if it could be useful in the future?

While thinking, Duncan’s attention returned to Dog.

The dark hound seemed to have recovered a bit and consciously avoided looking at the location of the “Nether Lord’s flesh,” appearing much better now.

A happy smile appeared on Duncan’s face as he stepped forward, heading towards his own quarters.

...

Night was falling.

In the hidden harbor of the Mist Fleet, blocked by fog, icebergs, and treacherous currents, Tyrian walked slowly on a path at the edge of the harbor.

The cold night wind came from the direction of the sea, the sound of waves crashing against the shore was incessant, the world was soaked in the cold and dark light of creation, and in the distance, the bustling noise from the harbor square could be faintly heard.

Sailors were having a party, using fine wine, tobacco, and noisy instruments to dispel the emptiness left by the deceased in the world and consuming their cold and endless energy with a night of revelry— but for Tyrian, such gatherings were too noisy.

They were not conducive to his calm thinking.

Another set of footsteps followed him.

It was his loyal first mate, Aiden, who now smelled like a piece of bacon with added cinnamon and clove.

This scent made Tyrian marvel: the people of Pland really had a lot of tricks in the tobacco field.

“You can join the party in the square,” Tyrian suddenly said, “There’s no need to accompany me on a walk in this desolate place.”

“I’m waiting for the late-night part,” Aiden said, “they’ve invited twelve dancers from Cold Harbor. They have great energy.”

“...”

“Captain?”

“In such cold weather, dancing on a pirate island occupied by the undead, and late into the night as well... Tell me honestly, what kind of damned price did you offer?”

“It wasn’t actually that much,” Aiden scratched his shiny bald head and chuckled, “Last week, when the Raven went on a mission, it happened to rescue ‘Curved Knife Martin’s’ ship. As you know, Martin controls a quarter of the theaters and dance troupes in Cold Harbor...”

Tyrian: “...”

The commander of the Mist Fleet fell silent for a few seconds in the night wind, pinched his brow, and after a few more seconds, his expression returned to calm.

“Let’s talk about Dagger Island.”

“Alright, Captain.”