"Captain, is my prosthesis also made of this material? It's great, light and strong." Chef Planck walked over dragging the prosthetic leg. He seemed a little uncomfortable and walked with a limp.
Watching him walk, Charles thought of the doctor who now lay in the cemetery.
"How's the prosthesis? Are you used to it?" Charles asked.
"I'm used to it. I'm too used to it. There's actually a pulley inside. It's much faster to slide than to walk! To be honest, if it weren't too expensive, I would have cut off all my limbs and replaced them with prosthetic limbs."
The fat chef showed Charles the various abilities of his prosthetic limbs. His timid and fawning expression disappeared, as if he had completely integrated into the Narwhal group after the last experience of living and dying together.
Charles chatted with him for a few minutes and then began to give a lecture to the new crew members. Some things must be explained clearly before sailing. It would be difficult to regret it once on board.
Time passed little by little, and the scheduled sailing time was getting closer and closer, and the bandaged first mate was always the last one to arrive.
"What? Your family won't let you go?" Charles, who was squatting on the railing, asked him.
Bandage didn't seem to want to talk about this topic and walked straight towards the cockpit.
Charlton touched his nose, stood up, and waved to the crew. "Weigh anchor! Set sail!"
Upon hearing the captain's order, all crew members rushed to their posts.
"Wait~! Captain~ You left me behind!!" A tiny voice came from a distance.
Charles turned his head and saw a green-haired guy running towards him very quickly at the entrance of the dock. It was Second Officer Feuerbach.
By the time he ran to the front of the boat, he was sweating profusely from exhaustion.
"Your injury has just healed, so don't follow the boat this time."
Feuerbach immediately disagreed, and he lifted his shirt to reveal his scarred abdominal muscles. "Captain! Look, I'm really healed, and I definitely don't need to rest!"
As he was about to climb up along the soft rope on the boat, just as he was about to reach the deck, he was stopped by Charles.
"Go back and take care of your son first. Do your duty as a father and don't let him run around the street alone. He might get hit by a car without knowing it."
"It's really okay, my woman will take good care of him." Feuerbach prepared to board the boat with a grin.
But Charles's steel prosthesis stopped him again.
"I said your injury hasn't healed yet, go to the boat and have a good rest, and don't follow the boat this time." Charles' tone was calm, but his eyes were filled with a hint of coldness.
Feuerbach was stunned for a moment. He looked at the other crew members in the distance and slowly retreated.
"Woooooooooooo~~" A low whistle sounded, and under the gaze of the lonely Feuerbach, the Narwhal left the dock of Hope Island.
Feuerbach waited until the Narwhal completely disappeared in the dark sea before he started walking back the way he came.
He hung his head, looking a little depressed. "Why can't I get on board..."
After walking out of the bustling dock, Feuerbach looked in his own direction and did not head there. Instead, he walked towards the naval headquarters.
He walked past the navy soldiers who saluted him, entered the hall, and headed for his office.
Just as he passed by the conference room, he felt something was wrong. Feuerbach pushed open the door and saw a dozen brigadier generals sitting at an oval table, seemingly discussing something.
"What are you discussing? Why didn't anyone inform me of the military activity?" Ferba asked curiously.
Brigadier General Roves, who was standing at the edge and wearing a straight military uniform, handed the document over.
"Admiral Feuerbach, the Governor-General has decided to suspend your position as admiral in order to allow you to rest better. All naval affairs will be decided by other commodores."
Feuerbach flipped the paper quickly with a gloomy face. After a few seconds, he quickly flipped the paper and said excitedly: "Are you kidding me? What is the governor doing? I am one of our own!"
"Hey, hey, hey, don't forget that we are in the same group. Charles treated me like this, aren't you afraid that he will do the same to you?"
Roves looked at him with a cold expression, "We are different. All of us here can trace our origins from birth to the present, but yours is very strange. It's as if you came out of nowhere."
"Haha, Captain, are you doubting me?" Feuerbach laughed dryly.
At this moment, the sturdy man with a hook in his hand, who was farthest away, couldn't bear it anymore, so he stood up and walked to Feuerbach and whispered.
"I haven't taken you to jail. What belongs to you is still yours. The Ministry of Finance will still allocate the same amount of money to you every quarter. Don't worry. When the Governor returns, I will help you find out."
"What's the use of it then! Oh no!! Isn't it just such a small benefit? Do you think that I, Feuerbach, cares as much as you do?" Feuerbach turned around and left the meeting room with a ferocious expression.
————————
The Cathedral of Holy Light, the headquarters of the Church of Light, is not an island, but a huge stalactite connecting the earth and the sea with the sky above.
This place used to be magnificent and brightly lit. Yellow strips of cloth with the New Testament written on them covered the entire stalactite, making it look like a giant yellow stick standing between heaven and earth.
Behind the yellow prayer stripes are magnificent caves. As the yellow stripes sway slightly, the soft white light inside the caves shines out in all directions like a lighthouse.
But that was in the past. Now the Cathedral of Holy Light is severely damaged.
The yellow striped cloth had been burned clean by the fire, and the entire stalactite was blackened by the fire, with twisted cracks everywhere.
In the largest cave at the top of the stalactite, the Pope's footsteps kept echoing. Suddenly, he stopped, bent down, and picked up a piece of dried fish stained with blood on the ground.
He put the palm-sized fish into his mouth, sucked it, spat out the dirty saliva with blood, and started to chew the dried fish.
"Well, it's not bad yet. This thing can still be eaten."
The row of cardinals behind him seemed to have long been accustomed to the Pope's frugality and did not make any move.
The Pope continued walking along the spacious tunnel, and soon they came to a semicircular cave the size of a football field.
The church, which should have been majestic, has been completely unrecognizable. Everything inside has been smashed, including the apocalypse reliefs on the walls, the glass on the windows, and the chairs for sitting.
Now it is called a church, but it is not an exaggeration to say that it is a ruin.
"These deformed monsters have really gone too far! They must pay the price!!" A cardinal behind the Pope said indignantly.
But there was no sign of anything unusual on the Pope's face. He walked to the window and looked at the fleet on the sea around him.
"We'll leave after we repair the church's defenses. We have to head north as soon as possible. That place is more important now." The Pope stuffed the last bit of dried fish in his hand into his mouth.
"As you command, Your Holiness!"
"As you command, Your Holiness!"
"As you command, Your Holiness!"
At this moment, the Pope suddenly saw something. He grabbed the window sill with both hands and stuck his head out.
White light shone from his eye sockets, and he saw countless divers in the dark deep sea, surrounding this side, with powerful clansmen dotted around.
But these are not the point. What makes the Pope so nervous is a pair of eyes, a pair of giant eyes in the abyss in the deep sea, which are not as long as ten ships connected together.
(End of this chapter)