Chapter 19 The Black Oak

The White Oak came to a halt on the sea. The Black Oak, shrouded in thick fog like a shadow, stopped with it, its indistinct silhouette hinting at a hidden invitation.

Laurence gazed at the ship, looking hesitant.

"Should we... send someone to take a look?" First Mate Gus's voice came from beside him, pulling Laurence from his thoughts.

Laurence turned to look at his first mate, who had been with him through thick and thin for two or three decades.

"You recognize it too, don't you?"

"...The last time we saw it was near Frostfell," the first mate said, his tone complex as he stared at the sea in the distance. Like Laurence, he was still enveloped in burning green flames, his body appearing ghostly and ethereal. "We old hands have all known about your situation for years, but no one dared mention it..."

Laurence was silent for a moment, then suddenly spoke softly, "Remember not long ago, when you saw a figure standing on the deck talking to me?"

The first mate paused slightly, then immediately understood. "At the time, that was..."

"It was Martha—the 'Martha' only I could see for so many years," Laurence said in a low voice, his words causing the first mate's eyes to widen. "I've seen her on the ship more than once during this time, and I heard her voice when exploring 'Dagger Island'... I always thought it was because this strange sea was amplifying the illusions in my mind, but now it seems things aren't so simple."

The first mate slowly turned his head, looking at the Black Oak, shrouded in mist, silent and still. After a long silence, he finally said, "It's not an illusion. It's here."

Laurence pursed his lips, as if lost in thought. After a few seconds, he suddenly spoke. "Send a signal, see how it reacts."

The first mate immediately nodded. "Aye, Captain."

A moment later, a series of lights lit up along the White Oak's hull.

The crew, still in their ghost-like state, turned the baffle in front of the searchlight, sending a series of rhythmic flashes towards the nearby black "ghost ship."

Laurence stood on the bridge, staring intently at the black ghost ship, waiting for it to respond—yet also fearing any response it might give.

"Martha... are you there..."

The tension made him instinctively grab the railing beside him, as he muttered to himself.

The next second, a flickering point of light appeared on the deck of the Black Oak in the thick black fog. The light shone for a few seconds before going out, then lit up again, repeating three times.

"...It responded," the first mate said, turning to look at his captain with a complex expression. "You can wait here, Captain. I'll send some sailors to check the situation first."

"No, I'll go myself," Laurence said, waving his hand. His expression gradually calmed, and he had clearly made a decision. "If this is really some phenomenon caused by my mind losing control, it would be dangerous to send other sailors to that ship rashly... I need to face this, and only I can solve it personally."

The first mate clearly wanted to say something, but faced with his captain's firm resolve, he could only swallow his words. "I understand."

Laurence nodded slightly. "Help me prepare, then. Lantern, rope, weapons, ammunition, and also..."

He suddenly stopped, looking towards the control panel not far away.

A shriveled-up mummy wearing an old-fashioned sailor's smock was carefully and slowly moving sideways, using the shadows of the control panel as cover, trying to avoid attracting attention. It had almost reached the noose.

Laurence thought for a moment, "I'll take it with me—can't leave an out-of-control anomaly on the White Oak, and its condition is too strange."

Anomaly 077 stopped instantly.

At the same time, inside Frostfell, at the sewage treatment center near Cemetery No. 4, black-clothed guards were still vigilantly guarding every intersection. Two other warriors were specifically watching over the unlucky manager—the latter was slumped next to a pipe near the sewage sedimentation tank, his face pale and his body still trembling, but he was trying his best to answer the guards' questions.

"I don't know, I really don't know... How could I tell..." The only ordinary person left on the scene, the only living "human" in the entire sewage treatment center, the balding middle-aged manager kept wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, his face a mixture of fear and nervousness. "Everything here has always been fine. I've known those people for more than a day, and they never seemed to be anything but normal..."

"Relax, you're just an ordinary person. It's normal to be deceived by transcendent power," the black-clothed guard responsible for questioning him said, trying to reassure the terrified manager. At the same time, he occasionally looked up at the open space next to the sedimentation tank. "The Gatekeeper will take care of those freaks—Ms. Agatha will be back soon."

The manager subconsciously glanced at the open space, and then, the terrifying scene from not long ago seemed to invade his mind again—three "church pastors" suddenly turned into unfamiliar faces, terrifying abyssal demons manifested from the air, and a dozen treatment center employees turned into twisted humanoid monsters, engaging in fierce battles with the black-clothed guards...

The unlucky manager shuddered and quickly closed his eyes, but the darkness brought on by closing his eyes triggered new fears. He opened his eyes, his face still showing lingering fear.

The black-clothed guard next to him noticed this scene but could only give him a sympathetic look.

Having spent so long unknowingly in a sewage treatment center that had become a nest of monsters, surrounded by lurking, vicious cultists and counterfeit freaks replaced by the Primordial... When the truth was suddenly revealed, it was already a testament to his excellent mental fortitude that he hadn't been scared into madness.

Those employees who had turned into counterfeits were likely replaced by the Ever-Changing Sun, and now this manager was clearly the last one left. If the guards hadn't suddenly broken in, the manager's fate would likely have been to be replaced by the next "counterfeit"—he could clearly imagine this himself, and the resulting fear was indescribable.

After the incident here was over, the manager would probably never be able to return to work at the sewage treatment center—let alone work, he would likely need a long period of psychological treatment to return to a normal life, but that was not something the guards needed to consider.

The guards were currently more concerned about the situation of their superior—the Gatekeeper Agatha's strength was beyond doubt. Three ordinary Annihilation Priests plus a dozen counterfeit freaks who could only be considered cannon fodder could not be a match for the lady, but now... she hadn't returned yet.

After a while, even the manager, who was in a state of fear and anxiety, noticed the tense and solemn atmosphere at the scene. He raised his head and glanced at the black-clothed guards around him who were on alert. After hesitating for a moment, he couldn't help but ask, "Excuse me... Is the Gatekeeper alright?"

"Ms. Agatha is in the Spirit Realm. She's worried that the battle between transcedents will affect you, an ordinary person—as well as damage the sewage treatment equipment here," a female black-clothed guard said in a deep voice. Her steady voice carried a reassuring power. "Don't worry, no heretic can defeat Bartok's Gatekeeper in the Spirit Realm. She's probably still investigating clues, so she's delayed in returning."

The manager quickly nodded. "Okay... okay."

The next second, a cold wind suddenly swept through the factory area, and several black-clothed guards watching the intersections simultaneously looked towards the open space near the sedimentation tank.

The female guard who had just spoken breathed a sigh of relief, a smile appearing on her face. "Ah, it looks like Ms. Agatha has solved the problem."

As the guard's voice fell, one phantom after another suddenly appeared on the open space next to the sedimentation tank—as if another space was reconnecting with the real dimension. Blurred and illusory shadows appeared in the air one after another, and within a few breaths, those shadows quickly solidified into physical forms, falling onto the dirty ground.

They were a dozen counterfeit freaks that had turned into humanoid mud, and the cold, incomplete corpses of three Annihilation Cultists.

The corpses of the counterfeit freaks quickly "melted" after landing, turning into dried mud that would never squirm again. The bodies of the Annihilation Cultists began to burn the moment they returned to the real world, and within seconds, black flames turned them into piles of coke. The abyssal demons that coexisted with them dissipated into the air before they could even regain their physical forms.

The sewage treatment center manager stared blankly at this surreal scene, even forgetting the fear in his heart for a moment. Then, he saw a whirlwind of gray and white appear in the center of the open space. The whirlwind seemed to have smoke and mist churning within it. In the blink of an eye, a figure wearing a black coat and holding a cane condensed from the gray wind and stepped out.

Agatha, with bandages wrapped around her body, raised her head, looking at the familiar real dimension before her, and her subordinates who seemed a little nervous.

"The problem is solved." She nodded slightly to her subordinates, her voice low and carrying a reassuring magnetism, as always.