Chapter 225 “The Late Sunrise”

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

After carefully organizing his newly acquired “collection”, Zhou Ming didn’t immediately exit the room as he typically would. Instead, he took a moment to sit down on the chair facing the shelf. He was deeply engrossed in thought, gazing intently at the models before him.

He wanted to decipher the significance behind these “collections.”

Zhou Ming’s single-room apartment and the realm beyond its door had long remained disconnected. The only bridge between the two worlds was the door itself, and only he had the ability to move between them.

The “models” of the Vanished and Pland that now occupied his room seemed to defy this rule. These models were undeniably linked to the world outside his door, and they exhibited characteristics that could only be described as “supernatural.”

The concept of the supernatural shouldn’t even exist on his side of the door…

Moreover, he observed a consistent pattern in how these two particular collections came into existence. They were representations of entities that had been thoroughly consumed by the ghost fire and subsequently governed by his consciousness.

In deep contemplation, Zhou Ming pieced together this pattern. He concluded that for these models to materialize, they must undergo “burning” by the ghost fire and be “controlled” by his consciousness.

For instance, the original White Oak ship had also been engulfed by the flames from the Vanished. However, he hadn’t actively tried to exert any influence over it. More specifically, he hadn’t given any commands or “instructions” to the White Oak. As a result, after its burning, no corresponding “model” of the ship appeared in his room except for a deep imprint.

Conversely, after he took active control and purified the city-state, which the flames had also consumed, it satisfied the conditions necessary for a model to manifest in his space.

“What’s the purpose of these transformations? What do these models and this collection signify?” he pondered.

His attention then shifted to the “model” of Pland. Closing his eyes slightly, he tried to connect with it, hoping to uncover its secrets.

A plethora of sensations washed over him: he could sense the gentle breeze flowing through the port area on the island’s southeast side, the soft touch of waves crashing onto the shore, and he could hear the distant hum of steam factories from the elevated city.

Opening his eyes, they sparkled with clarity.

His theory was correct. This wasn’t like before. He now had the capability to observe and interact with everything within the city-state. Essentially, this model granted him absolute authority over the entire island, echoing the power he held over the Vanished and its unique attributes.

Rubbing his chin in contemplation, Zhou Ming grasped the full implications of his newfound ability. For instance, he could command every bell on the island to ring simultaneously or submerge the entire land into the ocean if he desired. In extreme circumstances, he even had the power to transport the island into the spirit realm…

As his train of thought reached this dark corner, Zhou Ming instinctively ceased his chin-rubbing. Why? A new, unsettling thought had taken root in his mind.

“What would happen if I commanded the city-state to plunge into subspace?”

He felt a shiver run down his spine, aghast at himself for even entertaining such a malevolent notion.

To be clear, he wouldn’t willfully send an entire city into a realm so dreaded that even demons trembled at its mention. But what if, in some careless moment – perhaps influenced by alcohol – he gave the command? Someone who wasn’t in full control of their faculties could cause untold devastation without even realizing it!

Panicking, Zhou Ming’s breaths became shallow and rapid. The gravity of the power he now possessed weighed on him like a thousand tons. With shaky legs, he forced himself to stand. He gazed at the two models on his shelf with an expression mingling fear and reverence.

“It’s no wonder the world was so wary of the Vanished. How can anyone be entrusted with such overwhelming power?”

Taking a final, intense look at his collection, Zhou Ming gripped the corner of the desk and pivoted away. He needed to escape this oppressive atmosphere to clear his mind.

Meanwhile, in the mapping chamber of the captain’s quarters, Goathead was busy steering the ship when he detected movement near the door Zhou Ming had forbidden. Turning its wooden form, the sculpture saw the familiar figure of Duncan entering, “Ah! The esteemed captain returns to his loyal first mate! Tales of your feats have traveled far and wide, and your formidable prowess is the stuff of legends across the Boundless Sea…”

Duncan, without uttering a word, took a seat at the mapping table, fixing an intense stare on the loquacious sculpture.

In the midst of this unsettling silence, even Goathead, known for his incessant chatter, found himself momentarily lost for words. But old habits die hard. Unable to bear the quiet, he eventually ventured, “Captain, aren’t you going to tell me to be quiet as you usually do?”

Duncan remained impassive, replying, “I was pondering: how long can you keep talking if I don’t intervene?”

Seizing the opportunity, Goathead’s spirit lifted, oblivious to the sarcasm dripping from Duncan’s words. “Ah, then you’re in for a treat! Your devoted first mate is a veritable treasure trove of tales from the Boundless Sea. I could regale you from sunrise to sunset just on this theme alone! And if you fancy, I’ve also cataloged the one hundred and thirty-seven variations of butter biscuits…”

“Enough, quiet,” Duncan interjected hastily, shaking his head in exasperation, “I had hoped you might at least possess a modicum of self-awareness.”

The wooden contours of Goathead creaked as it shifted its head, the sound echoing like wood scraping against wood. The sculpture’s face, painted in dark hues, now intently focused on Duncan, its eyes – small orbs of polished obsidian – seeking answers. “Captain, you appear deeply preoccupied. We’ve achieved something monumental, a feat unlike any other. What could possibly cloud your spirits now?”

“Monumental, indeed,” Duncan murmured, momentarily lost in thought before refocusing. “You’ve sensed it as well, haven’t you? The undeniable link between Pland and the Vanished.”

“Absolutely!” Goathead responded enthusiastically, never missing an opportunity to sing praises. “Who would’ve imagined such a day would come? Your achievements are legendary. After acquiring an entire city, where do we head next? Lansa, perhaps? Cold Port? I’ve heard Frost is a prime destination too…”

Interrupting the rambling, Duncan raised a hand. “I’ve no immediate plans of ‘hunting’. My only request is for you to keep an eye on the city. If you detect any anomalies or intruders, inform me promptly. And, needless to say, continue to manage the ship.”

“With pleasure!” Goathead assured, an air of pride evident in its voice. “This task is well within my capabilities. I assure you, I won’t let you down…”

Acknowledging with a nod, Duncan’s gaze drifted across the room, lingering briefly on the window port.

Time seemed to have flown by, with night making way for day.

Suddenly, with a sense of urgency, Duncan blurted out, “What’s the time?!”

Caught off guard by the captain’s unexpected query, Goathead hesitated, “It’s… morning. The sun should be on the cusp of its ascent.”

“Yet… the sun remains absent,” Duncan declared, a palpable gravity in his voice. His eyes darted to the clock affixed to the wall, noting, “…We are fourteen minutes past sunrise.”

The atmosphere in the room grew heavy, punctuated only by the clock’s rhythmic ticking.

The “sun” of their realm, referred to as Vision 001, was renowned for its unwavering punctuality, its cycles as predictable as clockwork. Ever since Duncan found himself in this strange and perilous world, the sun’s punctuality remained constant. Until today…

The common folk might overlook this delay, but for Duncan, a man accustomed to precision, the tardy sunrise was profoundly unsettling.

Hoping to alleviate Duncan’s evident concern, Goathead hesitantly suggested, “Perhaps… it’s just a temporary delay. The marine climate is notoriously fickle. It’s possible something’s obscuring the horizon…”

However, both knew that this was a mere conjecture, and the true reason for the sun’s delay remained an enigma.

Duncan barely registered Goathead’s words. His eyes remained locked onto the clock, but soon, a faint golden hue crept into the corners of his sight, emanating from the porthole.

Without hesitation, he pivoted and approached the window. Pulling it open, he was greeted by the panoramic view of the horizon.

The sun had indeed ascended, its vast, luminous form framed by the twin runic circles. As it climbed higher, its golden rays pierced the residual cold, pallid remnants of the night imposed by the rift’s effects.

“It’s late. Fifteen minutes late to be precise,” Duncan mused aloud, his voice tinged with concern.

“What could be the cause? Is this an aftershock from the calamity in Pland? Does it tie in with the mysterious Creeping Sun Wheel? Or, more alarmingly, is it a repercussion of Nina’s emergence and newfound dominance?”

Returning to the table, Duncan’s demeanor became visibly agitated. He recognized the irrationality of his distress, but having witnessed firsthand the profound disturbances in Pland, he was now hypersensitive to anomalies. This delay, subtle as it might seem, felt ominous, a harbinger of a larger looming event. But of what nature?

Seeking to mollify the captain’s evident distress, Goathead ventured cautiously, “Perhaps it’s a quirk of marine meteorology. Observe, the sun continues its ascent. Occasionally, expansive fog banks can bend and refract sunlight, which may…”

“In Pland, the sun was also tardy by the same fifteen-minute margin,” Duncan interjected, his tone gentler, realizing he’d been unduly curt. “Clear skies prevail there, and the waters lie placid. The delay isn’t in the sunlight’s arrival but in the actual emergence of the sun.”

He exhaled, frustration evident in his voice, “What is happening?”

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