Chapter 1 The Night's Stillness

The night was deep, and the fluttering snow continued until the second half of the night without stopping. Although the snow was not heavy, it still gently and silently covered the entire city—the not-too-thick layer of snow was like a pale bandage, wrapping the city's numerous scars after the disaster, concealing those things that had not yet healed.

Destroyed buildings, blood stains that could not be cleaned up in time, scrapped steam walkers, barricades waiting to be demolished, and the dried "slurry" accumulated in almost every corner of the city, which would take an unknown amount of time to clean up.

The Mirror intrusion had subsided, but the "by-products" of this extraordinary disaster remained in the city in the form of physical matter.

The Church had taken over the city's operations after nightfall as per protocol.

Guards carrying lanterns vigilantly watched the streets under the night, wary of any dark corners that could not be fully illuminated by the gas streetlights, and any strange sounds that reached their ears.

The scent of burning incense drifted in the air, and the soft murmurs of the night watch priests carried a reassuring power.

"It seems very peaceful tonight..." A black-clad guard stared at the shadows on the street, and after a long time, he suddenly muttered to his companion beside him, "I thought there would still be a fierce battle tonight."

"Everyone thought so," another black-clad guard with long hair over her shoulders said softly. Several strips of scripture cloth filled with prayers were fixed to the lantern hanging from her waist with sealing wax, indicating that she was the leader of this squad, "After all, we just experienced such a serious supernatural disaster, and a large number of clerics sacrificed themselves... In theory, the city-state's defenses would reach their lowest point tonight."

"The other night watch squads don't seem to have reported anything—not even a whistle all night."

"...In any case, keep your nerves on edge. We can't relax for a moment until the sun rises."

"Yes, Captain."

The female black-clad guard, who was called captain, nodded slightly and looked at another squad not far away who were busy with their work.

An exquisite brass censer was suspended by a delicate chain. Ethereal smoke emanated from the censer as a Silent Brother blessed the street with incense, softly murmuring prayers to the God of Death. Several low-ranking clerics accompanying him carefully collected samples of the black sludge on nearby walls, lampposts, and the ground with scrapers and glass bottles.

Those dried "slurries" had completely lost their activity and would no longer appear in a terrifyingly distorted shape. When the scraper cut through their surface, the texture they presented was like some kind of semi-dry and finely structured..."paint."

"How much of this 'sludge' do you think there is in this city now?"

She couldn't help but turn her head and mutter to her subordinate beside her.

"Who knows—it is said that there is less of this on the surface. The sewers and subways are the hardest hit areas, and there are several sewage treatment plants. Those places are almost filled with this sludge. The city hall is in chaos now, and I don't know how long it will take to clean it up."

"Cleaning up the sludge... at least that's the easiest trouble we have to face," the female captain sighed softly and looked up at the end of the street, "Frost is facing more than just these weird muds now."

Hearing this, the black-clad guard next to her also subconsciously looked up, looking in the direction his captain was looking.

That was the port area on the edge of the city-state, brightly lit and faintly noisy.

"Yes, it's more than just sludge..." The black-clad guard muttered, his tone strangely tinged with tension, "An entire Seamoss Fleet is still surrounding the city."

...

The eastern port area was brightly lit and bustling with activity.

As the only port that had consistently resisted the monster invasion and continued to operate throughout the entire defense war, East Port remained busy after the battle ended.

All the docks and engineering machinery were used, and all the staff with remaining energy had to work overtime. Several wharves that were slightly damaged during the day's battle were also temporarily repaired as quickly as possible for ships in better condition to dock for repairs.

For many people in the city, the battle was over, and tonight was the time for them to recover their spirits and heal their wounds, but for the Frost Navy and the port logistics units, the battle continued—a large number of ships were severely damaged and in urgent need of repair, a large number of wounded needed treatment, and more importantly, they had an even more troublesome and complex situation to face:

The Seamoss Fleet, their temporary allies today, their deep nightmare for the past fifty years.

The largest and strongest "ghost ship," which countless Frost people had used to scare children in the past fifty years, was now docked next to the largest wharf in East Port.

The towering bow stood tall in the night, and the deck turrets and bridge buildings revealed ghost-like silhouettes in the wind and snow. Lights from the shore shone on the armor belt, reflecting a pale light reminiscent of bones. On the side of that steel behemoth, on the edge of the ship facing Frost, a wide cloth banner fluttered in the wind, with rough lettering that looked like temporary graffiti—

"Seamoss Venture Capital Corporation's Temporary Visitation and Inspection Ship stationed in Frost."

Even the most seasoned Frost soldiers had never seen such a scene—anyone walking past the dock at this time would stare at those rough characters for a long time, and try hard to resist the urge to slap themselves a few times to wake up.

"Captain," First Mate Aiden walked across the deck and came to Tirian, who was standing on the edge of the deck looking down, "The banner has been hung up, as you said, trying to make it look as friendly as possible."

Tirian hummed, then pointed to the soldiers and workers on the dock below who were stopping and looking around uneasily near the Seamoss, "But I think they still seem pretty nervous?"

"I don't know what's going on. Maybe the Frost people of this era are easily startled," Aiden scratched his bald head, "Should I tell my men to go down and drive away those onlookers?"

"...No need," Tirian thought for a while and shook his head, "Father's order is not to have any more conflicts with the city-state. At this tense moment, it's better not to stimulate these easily startled Frost people."

Aiden shrugged, "Okay, since it's the old captain's order."

"How is everyone doing?" Tirian suddenly asked after a moment of silence, "I mean, the second generation of sailors."

"...Ah, after half a century, we've returned to this familiar place again," Aiden sighed softly, and said with emotion, "It would be a lie to say that the ship is peaceful—basically every cabin is discussing this docking, discussing dealing with the Frost Navy again. Even the first generation of sailors have been affected and are discussing it with them.

"Some are looking forward to it, some are resistant, but more are at a loss, because no one has ever imagined what this day would be like. But... everyone will support your decision. They are waiting for your orders."

Tirian didn't speak for a moment, but the scene he had seen on the bridge before seemed to reappear in his mind.

The Queen's second order after half a century—"Protect Frost."

Was that really true? Was that the power left by the Queen, or just a hallucination?

That didn't seem to matter anymore.

The Queen had ordered the Seamoss Fleet to stay away from Frost Island, and now, he had led the fleet back here. Perhaps... the Queen's order back then was really for this day.

"In any case, we've come here," Tirian took a light breath, and the gas exhaled from his mouth and nose condensed into white mist in the cold night, "The commander here wants to entertain the 'comrades-in-arms'. Well, I should really say hello to them."

"Should I accompany you?"

"Yes, and bring a few more guys who know etiquette—tell them in advance that this time, we are not here to fight."

"Okay," Aiden nodded, then couldn't help but ask, "Um, are there any other requirements for the entourage?"

Tirian thought for a while: "...Those with relatively complete faces, those with limbs connected to their torsos, those who don't drop 'parts' while walking—just use your standards. As long as the clothes can cover most of the holes."

"Okay, Captain."

...

Inside the port defense office, General Commander Lister was making one last adjustment to his uniform and medals.

It wasn't that he hadn't seen big scenes, but even as a well-trained professional soldier, he couldn't help but feel a little uneasy about the "scene" he was about to face.

Not because the scene was too big, but because it was unprecedented.

He was about to meet the leader of the Seamoss Fleet—after fifty years of confrontation and hostility, the fleet that had "defected" from the city-state back then had returned here.

Many places in the city-state were still in chaos, and the governor's disappearance had the city hall in a state of disarray, but even in such a chaotic situation, he still arranged this special reception.

Because he knew that Frost could not withstand any further damage. No matter what the officials and advisors in the city hall thought, he had to stabilize that terrifying ghost fleet—if, just if, they were to reconcile with that "Great Pirate," now might be the only opportunity.

Buttoning the last button, Lister breathed a sigh of relief.

Then he lowered his head, picked up the new chest badge representing his general's rank from the table, and calmly stared at every line on it.

"...A field promotion... well, someone has to step up."

He raised his head, looked in the mirror, and carefully fixed the chest badge on his clothes.

(Push book time~ Recommend a new Xianxia work by Tai Yi Sheng Shui, *Dao Ying*. The future we pursue is just the shadow of the past under the stars. Yuan Yang Hai, a miserable Sanwu cultivator, with two souls, suddenly opened his eyes...)