Chapter 127 PTSD

The captain often used words that were strange and difficult to understand, with obscure meanings and imaginative constructions, but the crew of the *Vanishing Line* were often quite open-minded about this.

After all, there was also a pigeon on board whose vocabulary was even more bizarre and difficult to understand—and the communication between the captain and the pigeon was always smooth, which showed that those strange words were not the captain's problem.

It was a problem with the limited understanding of short-sighted mortals.

Anyway, anything they didn't understand was treated as a dialect of the sub-space.

Morris didn't ask what "ptsd" meant, but silently digested the information the captain had just revealed, while Duncan didn't hide anything and told him about his experience in the cemetery last night.

He mainly wanted to hear the opinion of a "professional."

Duncan's narration quickly attracted the attention of several people in the dining room. Nina was the first to come over, followed by Shirley, Alice, and Agou. In the end, even Vanna, who had been quietly staying by herself, couldn't resist her curiosity and quietly came near the long table to eavesdrop.

"Annihilation Cultists..." After listening to Duncan's narration, the first to frown was indeed Morris, who was the most knowledgeable. "How could they be interested in corpses..."

"Shouldn't Annihilation Cultists be interested in corpses?" Duncan asked curiously.

"They're not necromancers," Morris shook his head. "Annihilation Cultists follow the Master of the Deep, studying knowledge in the fields of demons and summoning. They have no interest in worldly flesh and blood—not only no interest, but even disdain and aversion, because they firmly believe that worldly flesh and blood is weak and filthy, while the demons of the deep and the Master of the Deep possess the 'purest sacredness' and are the 'original form.' How could such a group of heretics do something like stealing corpses in a cemetery?"

"Unimaginable," Aiden shook his head. "The world in the eyes of these Annihilation Cultists must be completely different from that of ordinary people."

A hoarse, dark voice suddenly came from behind. Shirley turned around and saw an old man with pale skin and a gaunt figure standing on the edge of the deck. The old man was wearing a priest's robe, with a sunken skull on one side and the corresponding half of his body showing a moist texture as if soaked in seawater.

A cloud of misty smoke overflowed from the collar, cuffs, and pocket seams of his crew uniform, enveloping his entire upper body in a cloud of black smoke.

"Annihilation Cultists are not interested in worldly flesh and blood—but what if this is not a piece of 'worldly flesh and blood'?" Duncan raised his head, looking seriously into Aiden's eyes. "Perhaps, this is not even 'flesh and blood' at all."

"You mean..."

After a long absence, the *Sea Fog* finally returned to its home port.

Vanna was stunned: "...Huh? What?"

"He was dragged into the deep sea by his symbiotic demon," Agou casually explained. "Annihilation Cultists, tsk, no matter how much these bastards worship the Master of the Deep, no matter how much they bind their deep-sea demons to themselves, after running into the real deep depths, they will still be treated as humans—these uncontrolled demons only recognize aura. They will tear him apart."

A drizzle of wine flowed from the side of his cheek, which was cracked due to the sunken skull.

Listening to Duncan's analysis, Aiden seemed thoughtful: "Oh... then this is a bit of fun."

Noticing the captain's gaze, Vanna raised her head alertly, her entire body of jagged bones crackling.

Although they knew from the beginning that the cultists in this world were all eccentrics who believed in evil, the Annihilation Cultists' effort to challenge the limits of aesthetics was a bit too eccentric!

Fuli shrugged, picked up his pipe, took another deep breath, and then held his breath again, his whole body shrouded in smoke.

"So that's what happened," Aiden stroked his chin, muttering thoughtfully. "No wonder this guy looked so unwilling when he was dragged in..."

"Now that you mention it," Aiden stroked his chin, and said thoughtfully, "The body I occupied at the time experienced a very strange 'disintegration' phenomenon shortly after leaving the coffin. The skin and muscles disintegrated and fell off like cracked mud, and these cultists seemed to have expected this..."

"He will be torn apart by other deep-sea demons?" Fuli muttered, and then couldn't help but think of what happened before, "Wait, but I remember you and Vanna used similar methods to run away—right in front of me, you jumped into the cracks leading to the deep-sea realm."

Listening to the old scholar's explanation, Aiden's brow also furrowed subconsciously.

The bullet hole in his chest was still emitting wisps of smoke.

Mentioning that glorious achievement from back then, Agou's expression couldn't help but be a little strange, but soon it waved its hand, "It's not the same. When Vanna takes me to run away, she always tries her best to protect me. She will try to confuse my aura. If she can't confuse it, she will have a big fight with other deep-sea demons—so every time she uses that trick to run away, she will get injured."

First Mate Shirley stood on the edge of the deck, carefully stuffing fine tobacco from Pruland into an ancient short-handled pipe, lighting it with a lighter, and taking a comfortable deep breath with the mouthpiece in her mouth.

The *Sea Fog* returned from the cool central sea area. Although it did not bring back successful news this time, it brought back gifts and specialties from afar—wine and souvenirs presented by the Pruland authorities to the "Sea Fog Venture Capital Company," as well as tobacco, fabrics, and handicrafts purchased by the captain. These things were all good things for the hot and closed secret island.

The Annihilation Cultists despise worldly flesh and blood, and lead "the existence with pure holiness in the deep-sea realm"? They even believe that deep-sea demons and the Master of the Deep possess that kind of "pure holiness"?

"...It's good to be open-minded." The old priest couldn't help but sigh.

This is the *Sea Fog's* accompanying priest, Will.

Fuli frowned slightly. He thought for a long time before suddenly thinking of something: "So, the key is not the body you occupied at the time."

"No one said you were," Aiden said lightly.

Fuli looked at the old priest for a moment, and suddenly blurted out: "I'll teach you a trick? You can drink that bottle of wine for several days..."

After the old priest muttered, he picked up the big wine bottle and put it to his mouth, tilting his head back to take a swig.

Fuli turned his neck, looked at the smoke surrounding him, and pulled open his collar to take a look.

"Pure? Holiness?" Fuli looked at the Deep-Sea Hound with a strange expression, "Even the original form of life?"

"Actually, it's not bad to be an undead. I couldn't play like this when I was alive."

On the edge of the secret island surrounded by ice floes, turbulent currents, and mist, the high-bowed steel warship was steadily docked at the end of the trestle. The undead sailors were busy in the cold wind and mist, some checking the status of the ship, others counting the goods, or directing the cranes on the shore to lift the cargo boxes from the ship's hold to the shore.

"Cool tobacco can fill the emptiness in the soul—but the emptiness in the flesh is another matter, right?"

"Tsk, anyway, I dare not say anything else, but this runaway female cultist is definitely dead this time," Agou smacked its lips and said, "She will definitely die without a whole body."

"The trick doesn't work," the old priest shook his head, "It's mainly disgusting, and it becomes sour after the third time."

Although the undead have not yet left the world of the living, they still have independent personalities and emotions. They also need a certain quality of life, and they also need entertainment and hobbies. In some ways, they need these things even more than the living.

Aiden looked up at Duncan, who quickly added: "It's probably a professional habit. I care a lot about the purposes of these heretics. Just like Mr. Morris said, abnormal Annihilation Cultists would not be interested in worldly flesh and blood, so these cultists who appeared in the cemetery are even more suspicious."

Aiden hadn't considered what would happen to the runaway cultist, but was stunned when he heard Fuli's words: "Why do you say that?"

He said this casually, but Fuli immediately reacted: "Who knows how their brains are grown? I'm not an Annihilation Cultist."

Then he held his breath and exerted his strength.

Just at this time, Duncan, who had been staying on the side without speaking, finally couldn't help it, and he moved a little closer to the long table: "These heretics... did they have any other actions besides trying to take me out of the cemetery?"

Because their souls always feel cold and empty, they need the warm creations of the civilized world to fill these voids.

"Other deep-sea demons are another situation—like the one you just mentioned, it will protect its master. Right, Vanna?"

"This is a 'death bird'," Vanna raised her head, responding to Agou while cautiously looking at Fuli. "Normal deep-sea demons will indeed actively protect their masters. They have no 'heart' at all, and they only act with Annihilation Cultists because they are restricted by symbiotic contracts. Once they run to the deep sea, they will immediately lose control. This cultist is dead."

Aiden couldn't help but look at Vanna next to the table—this guy was dragged over by Agou, and at this time was lying on the floor, grasping a vocabulary book with two claws and looking at it very seriously, her beautiful skeleton head swaying back and forth.