Lan Bo turned his head with great effort; his deep blue pupils seemed frozen solid, and his icy gaze fixed on the distorted reflection of the pearl on the sea’s surface.
The boy had come too close. The fish hiding beside Lan Bo and the corpse of the infant in his arms had both turned into swimming skeletons. The vibrant life within them had turned ashen, slipping from Lan Bo’s hands and falling into the water with a soft splash.
Wounds inflicted by the Dead Sea Heart Rock Blade could not heal quickly; instead, they would continue to expand and corrode, draining the victim’s life force.
“Is this what you believe to be right?” Lan Bo asked hoarsely, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. Drop by drop, the viscous blood fell into the water, where the skeleton fish scrambled to devour it.
The boy’s hand, clenched tightly around the black blade, began to tremble, and a thin mist clouded his sapphire-blue eyes.
The sea lay deathly still. The people on deck held their breath, covering their mouths and noses as they watched the battle for the throne with bated breath. A fight of this magnitude was beyond the authority of even the special forces of the Mad Shark Brigade, let alone these unarmed civilians.
Suddenly, an old man clasped his hands together before his chest, murmuring a silent prayer for the Sea God’s protection. The crowd snapped out of their daze, and one by one, they clasped their hands in prayer. Powerless to do anything else, they could only express their devotion through the most primitive and simple means.
The faint sounds of prayer rose and fell in the wind. With every incantation that fell into the sea, a tiny jellyfish was born. The sea surface glowed with flecks of blue light as the jellyfish gathered toward Lan Bo and flowed into his wound.
Lan Bo clenched the blade embedded in his chest, his palm sliced open by the sharp edge as blood seeped through his fingers. He yanked the Dead Sea Heartstone Blade—which had pierced his chest—violently from his body. Blood gushed forth, splattering onto the Pearl Boy’s snow-white face, finally bringing a splash of vivid color to his pallid features.
“Hmph.” The Eternal Spirit sat atop the mast of the transparent vessel—forged by Pearl from water-hardened steel—watching the faint signs of healing appearing on Lan Bo’s wound, his expression growing gloomy and restless.
The sea grew colder as night fell. A faint white mist rose from the water, gradually thickening until it blanketed the entire sea. The outlines of distant cities vanished into the fog. Slowly, the ship too was enveloped by the dense mist, and people could no longer make out each other’s faces.
On the transparent deck of the ghost ship, an Alpha test subject with the head of a human and the body of a deer appeared. The ashen-gray Xialu, summoned by the immortal spirit, was emitting mist outward.
The immortal spirit floated lightly and leisurely in the air, looking down and smiling at Pearl: “King, this sea is yours. Whatever you do is right. What is he, anyway?”
A smooth, mirror-like surface unfolded beneath the transparent ghost ship. The immortal spirit drifted in the air, yet the mirror reflected a golden angel in flight. The angel spread its arms wide; the mirror rippled like the sea’s surface, and a gray-white mermaid leapt out of the water, only to fall back into the mirror.
Flocks of gray-white mermaids climbed up the ghost ship’s transparent steel hull to the deck, while mermaids with fin-like wings circled the sky, chanting a distorted siren’s song.
Wei Lan and Feng Lang were the first to sense the eerie nature of the song. Feng Lang activated his J1 ability, “Colorful Carpet,” causing sea anemones to sprout across the ship’s deck. Their soft tentacles swayed gently, shielding the civilians on board as if protecting clownfish. (Barrier-type ability: nullifies all mental damage and a small amount of physical damage.)
Lan Bo gripped the blade of the Dead Sea Heartstone tightly; blood dripped from his fingertips into the water. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the youth retreating from his side. The youth, desperate to flee, draped in the white shroud of the dead, flew toward the transparent ghost ship.
“Don’t run.” Lan Bo raised his hand to wipe the blood from the corner of his lips. “Clean up the mess you left behind yourself. Running away is no feat.”
The boy dared not look at him, afraid to meet those eyes—majestic and contemptuous—for a single glance was enough to make him feel ashamed of himself.
“What’s this? How amusing.” The immortal spirit curiously fiddled with the cruise missile—crafted from water-hardened steel to scale—on the transparent vessel. He slowly swiveled the barrel toward the PBBs’ ship, the corners of his mouth curling upward as he asked Wei Lan and Feng Lang, clad in Marine Corps combat fatigues, “Hey, are you cops? I hate cops.”
Wei Lan gestured backward, signaling to launch an anti-aircraft interceptor missile, but at such close range, if they actually fired missiles at each other, the ships would be sunk by the shockwave as well.
The Undead called out to Pearl: “Hey, make me a shell. I want to play with this.”
The boy shook his head blankly, sensing he had done something wrong.
The specter paid no heed, drifting over to Pearl and chuckling softly in his ear: “I’m giving you a chance to get your revenge. What’s there to be afraid of? He never looked out for you—do you really owe him anything?”
The specter circled Pearl twice, then turned to face Lan Bo: “Then I’ll do it for you.”
Lan Bo clenched his teeth. Though the bleeding from his chest had stopped, the pain hadn’t lessened in the slightest. He couldn’t take deep breaths, for even the slightest movement caused excruciating pain in his ribs.
He felt a wave of heaviness and dizziness wash over him; his vision flickered between light and dark, and his body and mind were utterly exhausted. He should have collapsed, but he could not—he was bound to the life of the ocean. An innate sense of duty compelled him to protect this turbulent blue world, even if it meant his bones would shatter.
Lan Bo closed his eyes and let out a long, drawn-out whale call from his throat; the sound carried far out to sea on the waves. It was as if he were summoning something.
Everyone fell silent as the ethereal ringing of a bell drifted in from somewhere.
Ting, ting, growing closer from afar.
Lan Bo suddenly withdrew his offensive stance. His expression grew serene, a cold curve forming at the corners of his eyes. He raised his hand and hurled the Dead Sea Heartstone Blade; with a “crack,” the blade plunged into the water beside Pearl, embedding itself upside-down in a hardened patch of the sea surface.
Pearl hesitantly picked up the blade. In his hands, the Dead Sea Heart Rock took the form of a pistol. He was the only one capable of forging firearms from Dead Sea Heart Rock—a feat even Lan Bo could not achieve.
He steeled himself, chambered a round, and raised his head to face Lan Bo—only to freeze in shock.
A massive shadow emerged from the thick fog and darkness behind Lan Bo. Its outline was not smooth, but jagged and snow-white.
In an instant, on either side of Lan Bo, two cold-blue lion’s eyes, each a full meter in diameter, suddenly opened, their blue light as bright as burning flames.
The thick fog was dispersed, and a ferocious white lion reared up from the water. Its towering form, comparable to that of a prehistoric beast, cast a shadow across the ship’s deck, its two bright blue eyes trailing two streaks of afterimage, while its long tail swayed menacingly, the black crystal bell hanging from its tip jingling softly.
The white lion took a giant stride forward, instantly solidifying a block of liquid steel beneath its feet to support its massive, ton-heavy body.
Lan Bo sat sideways atop the white lion’s head; his diminutive form stood in stark contrast to the colossal beast. His fishtail hung beside the lion’s cheek, its tip gently tickling his beard.
Lan Bo gradually began to laugh, his shoulders convulsing as a chilling cackle echoed across the empty sea. He opened his eyes; his deep blue irises had turned a vivid indigo. His gaze, looking down from above, was cold and cruel. He bared his now-sharp, shark-like teeth at Pearl, who had picked up her knife again, and displayed the arrogance one reserves for rebels who dare challenge the throne: “You’re quite skilled. Then come and overthrow me. Follow the rules of the Sea Clan: kill me and take this seat. Over the past two hundred years, I’ve slaughtered too many traitors—I’m not missing you… *cough*.”
Blood seeped from the corner of Lan Bo’s mouth again; his laughter tugged at the wound on his chest, causing it to tear open. The blood flowed downward, dripping onto the white lion’s head, staining its snow-white fur, flowing into that enormous eye—pure as a blue planet—and then trickling down from the lower eyelid.