Chapter 1 Clinging to the Rung Ladder

Clinging to the rung ladder, Lawrence slowly climbed the *Black Oak*, its hull darkened as if smoked, and reached the deck.

As soon as he landed, he bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath until he steadied himself. He couldn't help but shake his head with a self-deprecating smile.

He really was getting old, reaching the point where he had to stop and rest after climbing a short distance on a rung ladder. If it had been before…

Another footstep landed behind him. Lawrence suppressed the irrelevant thoughts, turning to see Anomaly 077 had also climbed up – the terrifying dried corpse stood cautiously at the edge of the ship's rail, appearing docile.

It, or rather, he – had been very cooperative on the way, and it was indeed a strange sight to see such a terrifying high-ranking Anomaly being so obedient. But thinking that this dried corpse was his only "companion" on this exploration, Lawrence restrained the strange feeling in his heart and made his expression serious.

"Is the boat secured?" He looked at Anomaly 077, addressing this special "sailor" as he would normally speak to his sailors.

"Secured," the dried corpse nodded immediately, its voice hoarse and low. Then he looked up, quickly scanning the surroundings, his tone slightly hesitant, "…It seems like no one is here, Captain."

"I'm not blind," Lawrence said calmly, his gaze also assessing the situation on the deck.

After stepping onto the deck of the *Black Oak*, the surrounding eerie fog and shadowy texture remained, but showed no signs of intensifying. Through the floating mist, he could vaguely make out the scene on the ship.

Everything was as he remembered. Seventy or eighty percent of the *Black Oak*'s facilities were very similar to the *White Oak*, only with a texture that seemed abandoned for many years. The paint on the railings had peeled off in patches, some places on the deck showed warping and buckling, and the exterior of the superstructure in the distance was covered in rust-like stains.

Aside from the eerie mist, the ship felt like another *White Oak*, an abandoned "version" that had been drifting at sea for many years without maintenance.

Moreover, as Anomaly 077 had said, there was no sign of anyone on board.

"If there's no one on board, who threw down the rope ladder just now?" Anomaly 077 muttered. "And when you ordered to signal this ship before, it responded with lights – who was responding then?"

"For an 'Anomaly,' you're quite logical," Lawrence couldn't help but look back at this "sailor," his tone surprised. "But don't you think it's strange to use 'logic' to think about a ghost ship?"

Anomaly 077 shrugged and fell silent.

But Lawrence didn't give the dried corpse a chance to remain silent – he brought this dried corpse onto the *Black Oak* not just to avoid the danger of leaving him on the *White Oak*, but to make him useful to some extent.

"Can your ability work on this ship?" Lawrence stared into Anomaly 077's eyes. "Can you control this ship?"

"You want me to 'take over' it?" Anomaly 077 seemed surprised.

"You can't 'take' it away – but I want you to confirm whether your ability can work here," Lawrence said seriously. "Sense it, what state is this ship in?"

Anomaly 077 – the Sailor. This Anomaly's greatest ability was to control and take over things that possessed the concept of a "ship." In other words, this Anomaly had a perceptual and influential ability towards the "ship" that far exceeded human understanding. So… in the "Sailor's" eyes, would the *Black Oak* exhibit some "special qualities"?

Starting from this line of thought, perhaps Anomaly 077 could help him uncover the truth here.

The dried corpse obeyed the order. He stood on the deck, opened his arms, and closed his eyes slightly as if to feel the wind in the mist. Not far from him, Lawrence watched the familiar objects on the deck with a complex gaze.

The *Black Oak*… He was standing on this ship now. How many times had he dreamed of the past, how many times had he stubbornly held the idea of finding this ship – but now that the moment had truly arrived, now that he was really standing here, he had to repeatedly question everything, question his judgment, question his perception, and even question the existence of this ship.

Because the *Black Oak*'s appearance was too suspiciously strange, and its current state was definitely abnormal. Although his emotions were unwilling to admit it, reason told him… this was likely not the "*Black Oak*" he was looking for at all.

This was just a "phenomenon" created by some uncontrolled supernatural anomaly.

Lawrence's thoughts were jumbled until the "Sailor" beside him suddenly opened his eyes and made a confused sound, finally stopping his chaotic thoughts.

"What's the situation?" Lawrence asked immediately. "I… don't know how to explain…" The Sailor lowered his head in bewilderment, staring at the deck under his feet. "Captain, I… I can't feel the existence of this ship…"

"What do you mean?! You can't feel the existence of this ship?" Lawrence's eyes widened instantly. He had thought that the "Sailor's" power might not be enough to control this strange ghost ship, but he didn't expect the other party to give such an answer directly. "Then where are we standing now?"

"So I don't know how to explain…" The Sailor seemed startled by Lawrence's expression, but he still continued with a stiff face, "We are standing here, there's no doubt that it exists, but in my perception, it doesn't actually exist, at least… at least it's not here…"

Lawrence frowned. He knew that the dried corpse in front of him shouldn't be trying to deceive him. This was the other party's true thought at the moment, but… this did nothing to dispel the doubts in his heart.

After a brief moment of contemplation, he took a breath, holding the lantern in one hand and turning to look in a certain direction at the end of the deck.

The soft yellow light emitted by the lantern floated in the mist, as if guiding an invisible path.

"Captain, where are we going?"

"The bridge," Lawrence said calmly. "The captain should be on the bridge."

Before the words faded, he had already taken a step in the direction illuminated by the light. The "Sailor" was stunned in place for a moment before quickly following, walking with a slightly faltering gait while curiously asking, "Are you saying… this ship's captain? Do you know this ship's captain?"

Lawrence paused for a moment, then continued walking: "Yes, very familiar."

The Sailor said "Oh" and then quietly fell silent.

A moment later, Lawrence had arrived in front of the door leading to the bridge.

The red metal door was slightly ajar in front of him, as if inviting him in.

"You open the door."

Lawrence held the lantern in one hand and drew his revolver from his waist with the other, signaling the dried corpse beside him to step forward with his eyes.

"Sigh… okay."

The dried corpse sighed quite humanly, stepped forward and grabbed the handle of the door, and without seeming to exert any force, pushed the door open.

Lawrence peered inside.

The bridge was empty, with no sign of anyone. Only a thin mist drifted between the chairs and control equipment, and at the front of the bridge, the unmanned helm was swaying slightly left and right, as if fine-tuning the course.

"There's no one here either," the dried corpse muttered beside him.

"I'm not blind," Lawrence said, stepping onto the bridge.

He raised the lantern, using the light to dispel the surrounding dimness, and his gaze swept over the old and mottled equipment and seats, then slowly came to the helm.

The captain should be standing here.

But there was no sign of the captain.

Lawrence stood quietly for a while, sighing, not knowing whether it was out of disappointment or relief: "Ah, you're really not here."

"No, I am."

A slightly cold female voice came from the side.

Lawrence instantly became alert, even the faint green flames that couldn't be extinguished on his body suddenly jumped a few inches higher. The next second, he turned sharply to the direction of the voice –

A female adventurer wearing a captain's uniform, with slightly curly hair scattered behind her head, looking still young, was standing there, arms crossed, looking at him with a calm expression tinged with helplessness.

"Ah, a woman popped out," Anomaly 077 said in astonishment, then seemed to realize something, quickly glanced at Lawrence, "Captain, do I need to be quiet?"

Lawrence looked at the dried corpse: "Yes, quiet."

"Yes, Captain."

Anomaly 077's untimely interruption, however inappropriate, somewhat diluted the awkward and stiff atmosphere just now. Lawrence took the opportunity to try to calm down, then quickly thought about how he should start the conversation – what should he say first?

In the past days, he had talked to "Martha" countless times. In one hallucination after another, they had spent many, many years together. But at this moment, Lawrence suddenly realized that he was stuck – he couldn't interact with Martha as naturally as he usually did when he fell into hallucinations.

And it was this moment of being stuck that made him suddenly realize something.

The Martha in front of him… was an "individual" acting independently, completely unrelated to his subconscious!