The dark green flames burned on his body, and his flesh and bones turned into translucent spirits in the flames. Duncan steered the helm of the Lost Homeland in the flames, and his perception seemed to spread along the flames and eventually spread to the entire ship.
It turns out that it doesn't need a crew at all.
The Lost Homeland can set sail on its own, and as long as the captain takes the helm, it can set sail at any time.
When the phantom green flames rose into the sky, Duncan fell into a brief panic, but he had witnessed supernatural phenomena more than once on this ship during the past few days of exploration. These experiences forced him to calm down and he did not let go of the steering wheel in those most critical seconds.
Now, he finally confirmed that this flame should be some kind of "power" that is harmless to him - regardless of whether his body can recover later, at least now it seems that the power of this flame is helping him control the ghost ship under his feet.
The cheering sound in his mind gradually faded away, and Duncan felt that his mind was clearer than ever. The Lost Homeland felt like an extension of his limbs and sent all kinds of indescribable "feelings" to him. Although he still did not have the knowledge and experience to be a qualified captain, at least now he was able to control the ship by himself.
The gauze-like and mist-like spiritual sails swelled on the mast, and many auxiliary corner sails and side sails began to adjust their angles on their own. At this moment, the air flow on the sea was in chaos, but those spiritual sails seemed to have drawn consistent power from the invisible wind. The huge Lost Homeland ended its previous aimless drifting and began to stabilize under the push of the sails.
Duncan tried to turn the steering wheel in his hand, and the tangible force feedback was transmitted to his mind. He could feel that the huge hull under his feet finally began to turn gradually, and began to try to move away from the endless fog in front.
But the turning speed still seemed insufficient. The endless fog was still approaching little by little. A sharp shout came from the copper tube beside the steering wheel: "Attention, we are approaching the limit of reality... We are about to fall into the spirit world! Captain, we need..."
"I'm doing it!" Duncan shouted, interrupting the goat-headed man. "Instead of making noise down there, why don't you think about how you can help!"
The goat head instantly quieted down. However, just when Duncan thought that the other party had finally calmed down, its hoarse, shrill and even a little creepy shout suddenly came from the brass tube: "Come on! Come on! Come on!"
Duncan: “… ?”
At this moment, he suddenly felt that everything around him had lost its sense of reality. He accepted the vision he had encountered, accepted the supernatural power on the ship, and even accepted that he was being slowly cooked by a ball of green fire. However, he could never have imagined that the goat head that had given him a great sense of weirdness and danger from the very beginning would now do such a surprising thing... This evil thing had been evil from the very beginning, but now it was really too evil!
But the approaching fog did not give Duncan more opportunities to think and complain, even though the Lost Homeland had begun to turn rapidly - considering its huge hull, the turning speed could almost be described as drifting. However, the thick fog in the distance seemed to be consciously chasing the prey in front of it. Large patches of thin mist spread from its edges. The mist spread very quickly and covered the entire space around the Lost Homeland in almost an instant.
The moment the mist rose from the sea, Duncan clearly felt that some strange changes had taken place in the surrounding environment. The skylight suddenly became extremely dim, and countless black threads emerged from the originally blue sea water. Those black threads floated up from under the sea surface like fine tangled hair, and dyed the entire ocean black at a speed visible to the naked eye.
In the mist, countless shadowy things seemed to be emerging.
"We've fallen into the spirit world!" The noisy and strange "Come on!" voice of the goat head finally stopped. For some reason, its shouting sounded as if it came from a very far away place, mixed with countless low and dense whispers, as if there were a lot of malicious voices surrounding Duncan. "But the Lost Homeland has not completely fallen - Captain, hold the rudder, before sinking into the deep sea, the Lost Homeland has the power to maintain its course, and we can still get out!"
"That's only if I know where to go!" Duncan roared in a low voice. His voice was mixed with the crackling sound of burning green flames, as if it came from hell. "I've lost my sense of direction!"
"Intuition, Captain, intuition!" the goat-headed voice shouted in the brass. "Your intuition is more accurate than the markings on the chart!"
Duncan: “…”
A feeling of powerlessness came over him, but Duncan no longer had the energy to argue with a weird goat-head. Since the other party said he had to rely on intuition, he might as well just rush ahead.
Following the last bit of feeling before the mist rose, he gripped the steering wheel tightly and tried his best to turn it in the direction he believed in.
The Homeless let out a series of creepy howls from top to bottom, and the huge hull drew a stunning arc on the sea that had turned completely black. The wind was howling and the mist was swirling, and in the dim sky and fog, Duncan suddenly caught a glimpse of something gradually emerging in the mist out of the corner of his eye.
The next second, he realized that it was a ship, a white ship that looked smaller than the Lost Homeland and had a black chimney in the middle of the hull.
At the end of the beautiful arc drawn by the Lost Homeland, the ship that had suddenly emerged from the fog was heading straight for it—or rather, the Lost Homeland was heading straight for it.
All Duncan could think of was a cry: "Fuck it, something went wrong with the Spirit World Biao Boat!"
He had been exploring this strange world for so long without seeing any other living people, so why did a ship suddenly appear at this time? What was the probability of this two-way journey
…
The wind was howling, the waves were surging, and the boundless sea was releasing its terrifying power. Facing this natural force that was enough to tear apart extraordinary strong men, the "White Oak" was squeezing out the last bit of power in the steam turbine to fight against the fate of death.
The gray-haired Captain Lawrence Creed stood in the wheelhouse. The solid walls and glass windows of the wheelhouse did not give him any sense of security. He held the rudder tightly with both hands, and the roar and spasm of the White Oak when it was dying seemed to flow directly into his mind through a series of gears and connecting rods behind the steering wheel.
Through the wide windows, he clearly saw the astonishing huge waves rising outside the ship's side, but what was more terrifying than the astonishing huge waves was the strange fog rising and spreading from the sea in the distance, and the black lightning that was looming in the fog.
The White Oak is the most advanced steamship in the world, but no matter how advanced its machinery is, it can only ensure that the ship is powerful in "normal" waters. But now, what it and its captain have to face is the collapsing border of reality and the biting cold that is spreading from the fetid palaces of the evil gods at the bottom of the world.
"Captain! The priest can't hold on any longer!"
The first mate's shrill cry came from the side, and Lawrence heard a few muddy and hoarse echoes in the other person's voice. He then looked in front of the bridge and saw an ominous purple-black flame rising from the incense burner placed on the prayer table. The respectable and loyal clergyman in dark blue robes was sitting in front of the incense burner, trembling all over, his mouth and nose were full of blood, and the madness and clarity in his eyes kept alternating.
Lawrence's heart sank.
He knew that the respectable priest was still on the side of humanity, and was using his last bit of pious faith and the purest and most holy soul to fight against the cries from the "depths of the world", but this persistence was already a spent force. The purple-black smoke coming out of the incense burner was proof that the pollution had broken through the prayer.
If the priest falls, every sane mind on this ship could become a door to the deep sea, or even to the Warp.
"captain!"
The first mate's voice came from the side again, and Lawrence interrupted him. The middle-aged captain's face was full of determination at this moment: "Temporarily close the holy emblem beacon, and we will sink into the spirit world!"
The first mate was stunned for a moment. This man who had spent half his life at sea seemed to not believe his ears: "Captain?!"
"Sink into the spirit world - this way, we can avoid the most severe impact of the border collapse for at least ten minutes, and the priest will have a chance to recover." Lawrence gave the order again in an unquestionable tone, but this time he added two more explanations, "Follow my orders."
The first mate opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something else, but then he gritted his teeth and said, "You are the captain!"
The crew began to quickly carry out the captain's orders. Lawrence, who was at the helm, took a deep breath. The holy emblem beacon located deep in the cabin was gradually extinguishing. He could feel that the invisible protective force field surrounding the White Oak was rapidly weakening. Without the protection of the holy object, the ship was sinking little by little into the "spiritual world" between reality and the deep sea.
A thin mist appeared on the surrounding sea surface, and the sea water was gradually turning black.
This is dangerous, but in history, there have been ships returning to the human world from the spiritual world. As a member of the Explorers' Association, he has read books on this subject countless times, as well as various "survival guides" written by survivors.
How bad could it get? He only needed to let the White Oak hide from a storm on the edge of the spirit world, and then use the surging power output by the advanced steam turbine to perform a thrilling "spiritual drift". If luck still favored him, he could lead his crew back to the human world.
Then he quickly handed over the damn "Anomaly 099" in the warehouse to the governor of the Pland city-state, and never got involved in the authorities' affairs again in his life.
It can't get any worse.
Lawrence comforted himself in this way.
Then he saw a three-masted sailing ship that was a full circle larger than the White Oak suddenly appear on the dark sea in the distance. With an indomitable momentum, it drew a thrilling arc and crashed into him head-on...
Captain Lawrence stared ahead blankly.
"… grass."
(Oh my god! Another surprise!
Thank you for your enthusiasm and support, I will update another chapter today =. =
But this update rhythm is only limited to today... After all, my body is not as good as it was back then 233)