43: Chapter 43 Sneaking onto the Ship

Wu Xi yanked the reins hard.

The gray horse reared up, its snort kicking up dust on the ground. He took the opportunity to dismount, slapping the horse's rump firmly with the back of his hand. Without even turning its head, the horse galloped off the way it came, hooves clattering, without a hint of reluctance.

He arrived at Dilaslin Port.

Black basalt arched up from the ground, stacked one upon another to form streets, built into houses, and piled into slender, pointed towers.

The wharf was chaotic, a cacophony of shouting prices, cursing, and stevedores chanting, all tangled together. Yet, whenever someone uttered those two words, the surroundings would instantly fall silent.

Wu Xi scanned the wharf. Three merchant ships were unloading cargo; wooden barrels rolled with a thunderous rumble, and mooring ropes groaned with a creaking sound.

There were no government officials in this city. The Merchant Guild controlled the money, the wharf Gang controlled the blades, and whatever couldn't see the light of day was managed by the things underground.

Wu Xi wanted to find a ship to Oriba Island. A dilapidated tavern sign hung by the wharf: The Broken Anchor Tavern.

Pushing the door open, a wave of heat mixed with a sour stench hit him.

The light was dim; only two bean oil lamps hung on the walls, their flames flickering wildly in the draft. Shadows swayed in the murky light, and the floor was sticky, creaking underfoot.

Wu Xi headed straight to a corner against the wall and sat down. He raised his hand, and the bartender, a one-eyed old man, wobbled over carrying a ceramic pot.

"The cheapest one." Wu Xi said.

The one-eyed old man poured a cup with a splash. The liquid was murky yellow, with a layer of oil floating on top.

Wu Xi picked up the cup but didn't drink. He just set it beside his hand; this drink was merely a cover, a pretext for him to be sitting there.

At the next table sat an old sailor wearing a tattered leather coat. His left hand was missing three fingers, and he was pinching a piece of pickled fish with his remaining seven fingers.

Wu Xi turned his head, lowering his voice just enough for the man to hear: "To Oriba, what ships should I take?"

The old sailor glanced at Wu Xi sideways. "Forget it. Ordinary merchant ships can't make it across that sea. Sea monsters, mist, and things under the water that drag ships down. The entire crew goes down, and they can't even fish up the bone fragments."

He paused. "There are only two types of ships that can get there. First, the large black-sailed, multi-oared ships that transport rubies. They know the route well, and Oriba Island is a stopover. Second, smuggling speedboats. 'Fish-Head' Biao at the South Port has them. One trip costs this much." He held up five fingers.

"The large black-sailed, multi-oared ships, when do they arrive?"

"Soon. They'll enter the port tonight." The old sailor shook his head. "But do you dare board? Those crew members..." He swallowed the words back before they could escape his lips.

Wu Xi picked up the cup and took a sip. It tasted sour and putrid, like rotten wood, just like horse urine.

He put down the cup, his peripheral vision already catching someone in the corner who had been staring at him the whole time.

It was a young man with a face pale to the point of turning blue, wearing an ill-fitting silk robe. He looked just like a young errand boy from a merchant caravan.

Wu Xi stood up, carrying his wine cup, and walked over step by step, sitting down directly across from him.

The young man shuddered in fright, his pale face twitching twice. He darted his eyes left and right, and after confirming no one was paying attention, he leaned in toward Wu Xi. "You... you want to go to Oriba Island?"

"Perhaps." Wu Xi's voice had no inflection.

The young man spoke as fast as a machine gun. "Everyone on the wharf knows those black-sailed ships come from the east. They unload rubies at the port, and then head west. Oriba is a mandatory stopover. But that place is wicked. People say descendants of the gods live on the island. No one dares to go there. There are huge stone statues standing on the sea cliffs that glow at night."

"How do you know?"

"My cousin works for the Merchant Guild! He saw the route map!" The young man swallowed, his voice trembling. "But he went crazy last month! He said... he said those crew members aren't human at all! Their mouths... their mouths are ridiculously huge!"

Time slipped by until dusk.

Wu Xi's plan was simple: when the black-sailed ship entered the port, the crew would go ashore to trade. That would be when the ship's defenses were weakest and the fewest people were on board. He would sneak on, hide, and when the ship reached the vicinity of Oriba, he would jump ship.

The plan was very crude. But the cruder the plan, the less likely it was to have flaws. The more elaborate the scheme, the easier it was to collapse.

Three hours passed in a flash. Suddenly, the sound of a bell rang from the wharf—the port entry bell. It was deep and long, tolling one sound after another, vibrating against one's eardrums.

The large black-sailed, multi-oared ship had arrived.

Wu Xi opened his eyes abruptly and stood up. Outside the door was the side alley of the wharf. A fishy wind hit his face. He pressed his body against the base of the wall, moving forward through the shadows. His footsteps were as light as a cat's, making not a sound as they touched the ground.

The ship was much larger than he had imagined.

The black hull was like a giant reef floating on the water. It had three masts, but no sails were visible—or rather, the sails were also black, furled and pressed against the masts, exactly like the folded wings of a bat. Along both sides of the hull, there were three rows of long oars, the blades submerged in the water, motionless, like the fins of a dead fish.

The crew had all gone ashore.

Wu Xi crouched behind a pile of mooring ropes, squinting as he counted. Those people were all wearing wide gray robes, with headscarves wrapped down to their foreheads, the fabric bulging as if two tumors were buried underneath. What was most terrifying was their mouths—Wu Xi saw clearly that the mouths were split incredibly wide, stretching from one ear root to the other. When they smiled, they could swallow a human head whole. On their feet were short, thick-soled shoes that made a dull pattering sound when they walked, not at all like the sound of human feet hitting the ground.

The shutters of the oar cabins were shut tight; no one had ever seen the rowers inside.

He counted them clearly. Seven crew members on the shore, plus the steward and attendants, fourteen people in total, all crowded on the wharf at the bow. The stern was empty. On the side of the hull, a rope ladder used for loading and unloading hung over the water, swaying with the wind.

Wu Xi slid out from behind the pile of ropes, moving swiftly along the edge of the wharf, his footsteps silent. The rope ladder swayed in the wind. He reached up, grabbed the bottom rung, engaged his core, and climbed up.

Just as he reached halfway, the sound of pattering footsteps suddenly came from the deck above. A crew member had returned. The hem of his gray robe swept across the railing as he suddenly leaned over to look down.

Wu Xi was suspended in mid-air, his left hand gripping the rope ladder so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The crew member's face poked out from the side of the hull. Wu Xi felt his scalp tingle—the corners of the mouth were split almost to the back of the ears, a dark abyss, as if two mouths had been sewn into one. Those eyes scanned the darkness, but instead of looking at the rope ladder, they stared fixedly at the water.

Life and death hung in the balance. Just then, a seabird was startled from the mast, flapping its wings as it swept past the hull. The crew member's head turned instantly. In that split second!

Wu Xi let go abruptly. He didn't fall; instead, he engaged his core, kicked off the cold hull, and swung horizontally, heading straight for the drainage port on the side of the ship!

His fingers precisely locked onto the gap in the iron grate, his body pressed tightly against the hull, he even stopped breathing.

The crew member's head turned back, scanned the rope ladder, found nothing unusual, and with a patter-patter, walked back to the bow.

Only then did Wu Xi exhale half a breath and crawl into the drainage port. It was ridiculously narrow inside, filled with aged salt deposits and a fishy stench. He turned sideways and forced his way through.

The exit of the drainage port was right behind a pile of canvas on the deck. The moment he lifted the canvas, he lowered his body and rolled out, holding his breath.

The deck was wet—not with seawater, but with a sticky wetness. When his feet stepped on it, it made a sticking sound against his soles, like stepping on congealed blood. There was no one on the deck.

From the direction of the bow came the sound of the crew and the steward conversing. They weren't speaking the common tongue; the syllables were sticky and slurred, like a tongue tied in knots, squeezed out from the throat.

He scanned the area. The entrance to the lower cargo hold was right next to the base of the mast, a movable wooden plank covered by a rusty iron latch.

After waiting for a full half-minute to confirm no one was walking on the deck, Wu Xi flashed out from behind the canvas and crossed to the entrance in two steps.

The latch wasn't locked. The lock had long been broken; only half remained, dangling and swaying.

Wu Xi flipped open the plank. A sweet, cloying stench of rot instantly hit him, ten times stronger than the smell on the shore. It was so choking that his eyes grew hot, and tears almost spilled out. He gritted his back teeth tightly and climbed down the wooden ladder, step by step.

The cargo hold was dark, but not pitch black; there was a dim red light. At the bottom of the hold, a small mountain of rubies was piled up—all raw stones, fist-sized, with rough surfaces.

Wu Xi lowered his body, hiding behind the pile of stones. With his back against the cold bulkhead, he crouched down bit by bit. Red light filtered through the gaps in the rubies, illuminating his hand in a deep red, the knuckles clearly defined.

Just then, he heard a sound. It wasn't the sound of water or wind, but the sound of breathing. Extremely light and slow, one breath after another, coming from the deepest part of the cargo hold.

Mixed into the breathing was the faint, fragmented sound of iron chains rubbing together, and whispering. That whispering was not human speech at all.

The discordant sounds weren't heard with the ears; they drilled directly into the brain, like a thin wire inserted through the eardrum, stirring little by little into the brain matter, causing his temples to throb with pain.

Behind the pile of rubies hung a tattered canvas curtain, covered in black-green mold spots. The breathing and whispering were all coming from behind that curtain.

Wu Xi slowly straightened up. He needed to confirm the structure of the cargo hold and find the fastest escape route for when he jumped ship. As soon as his foot moved forward and stepped on the wooden plank at the bottom of the hold, it creaked—a sound as light as could be.

The breathing behind the curtain stopped instantly. The next second, the chains were yanked violently! Clang! A huge noise exploded in the enclosed cargo hold!

The whispering instantly changed tone, from murmurs to a piercing shriek! It wasn't heard with the ears; it exploded directly inside the skull! It was as if someone had rammed a red-hot steel needle fiercely into your temple!

He bit his tongue hard, the taste of iron filling his mouth. The intense pain kept him conscious for a split second.

Bracing himself against the pile of rubies, he looked toward the curtain. The curtain was lifted at one corner, revealing darkness so thick it couldn't be dissolved. In the darkness, there was a face—no, only half a face. The other half seemed to have melted, growing together with the iron chain. The mouth was moving, toothless, with a black tongue. What it spat out wasn't words, but a wave of sweet, cloying stench, pouring into his brain like a tide, trying to wash away his consciousness.

Wu Xi's fingertips touched a fist-sized raw ruby. The edges were sharp, like a knife.

Without a second thought, he grabbed the gem and, using all his strength, smashed it fiercely toward that face!

The ruby smashed into the darkness, making a dull thud, like hitting a mass of bloated, rotten flesh. The shriek in his brain broke instantly, replaced in the darkness by a gurgling, gasping sound.