Chapter 310: The Pirate Island Under the Night

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com

Since the eighth “Number Three Submersible” was retrieved from Frost’s waters and brought to Dagger Island near the city-state, the island had been designated as a military-restricted zone by the city-state authorities. Consequently, the two adjacent shipping lanes were closed to public access.

This development naturally led to widespread speculation among various groups, including local Frost residents, shipowners, nearby pirates, and adventurers who were compelled to steer clear of Dagger Island. Curiosity about the island’s events and the secrets guarded by Frost authorities sparked numerous theories. These ranged from “researching new weapons” to “conducting dangerous ceremonies,” though none were deemed reliable.

Few individuals still knew about the “Abyss Plan.”

“It’s becoming increasingly challenging for our agents to gather intelligence on Dagger Island,” Aiden remarked seriously to Tyrian as they walked along a small path near the harbor’s edge. “The island’s security has tightened recently, with monitoring extending to every inch of the coast. Approaching by diving is no longer feasible, and our spies and insiders have been reassigned from key positions. Although they haven’t been exposed, Dagger Island’s current supply and personnel transfers are now managed through a special list controlled by the authorities, making it impossible for us to intervene.”

“Has it become entirely a military-restricted zone?” Tyrian halted. “Did they discover something from the ‘Number Three Submersible’? Or have they already opened the hatch?”

“It’s difficult to say,” Aiden replied, shaking his head. “The last information we received indicated that Frost authorities had issued an order specifically prohibiting the opening of the submersible’s hatch. Additionally, any samples taken from its outer shell must be incinerated after research. This order suggests that the city-state’s authorities are still cautious. However, this information is several days old, and the current situation is unknown.”

“If they fail to achieve investigation results over time, and if there are more dangerous experimental accidents, the wisest course for Frost authorities would be to dispose of the submersible directly, avoiding further research, much like we did back then,” Tyrian mused with a frown. “But their ongoing blockade of Dagger Island implies they are determined to uncover some secrets from that submersible.”

“In theory, high-ranking Frost officials should be aware of the Abyss Plan or at least the dangers and horrors of the deep sea.”

“Knowing is one thing, understanding is another. Descendants may hear stories from their ancestors through books and oral accounts, but unless they experience it themselves, they can hardly grasp the fear and helplessness,” Tyrian shook his head. “In the face of uncontrollable supernatural events, humanity’s greatest strength is the ability to ‘forget,’ and its greatest weakness is the same.”

Aiden looked at his captain. After a brief silence of over ten seconds, he finally spoke: “Captain, should we take some more… proactive actions?”

“More proactive actions?”

“Contact Frost authorities, warn them, or more directly… have the fleet raid Dagger Island and seize the ‘Number Three Submersible,'” Aiden suggested bluntly. “Given Dagger Island’s current defense capabilities, it should not withstand a powerful assault from the Mist Fleet.”

After pausing momentarily, he added, “Otherwise, those uninformed individuals tampering with a twisted replica from the deep sea might cause significant trouble. It’s too concerning.”

Tyrian considered the proposal briefly.

After a moment, he shook his head. “Even if we successfully raid Dagger Island, can you be certain we’ll locate the ‘Number Three Submersible’ before Frost’s main forces react? The island is quite large… If the search takes too long, we’ll face a significantly larger city-state navy force. The Sea Mist is strong, but not invincible. Besides…”

He paused, an image of the Frost Queen crossing his mind.

Immediately, Tyrian halted his wandering thoughts, realizing he was drifting.

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head. “I need to think about this further.”

“You’ll need to decide soon,” Aiden nodded. At that moment, the sound of bells suddenly rang from the harbor square. The first mate looked toward the sound. “Ah, it’s late… Captain, why not visit the square and enjoy yourself? It might help you decide.”

“I won’t go,” Tyrian instinctively declined. “I’m not interested.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to show your face occasionally,” Aiden insisted enthusiastically. “The dancers aren’t something you see every day. Their dancing is even more beautiful and agile than the Black-tailed Rock Thrush flying through storms…”

“I meant that I’m not interested in that,” Tyrian replied helplessly, spreading his hands. “And honestly, if I, the captain, attend the party, would the sailors really enjoy themselves?”

“Of course, they can,” Aiden replied casually. “You know how thick-skinned those guys are, tough and regenerating…”

Tyrian: “…”

In the end, Aiden couldn’t convince the stubborn captain and went alone to the harbor square to join the party.

The pirate island remained lively past midnight.

The sleepless undead had boundless energy, and without curfews, there was plenty to celebrate on the island.

A platform on one side of the square had been transformed into a stage.

Temporary wooden walls shielded against the Cold Sea breeze, and the blazing fire pits around the stage offered some resistance to the winter night’s chill. While the undead no longer feared cold or heat, the “human guests” visiting Pirate Island tonight still required careful protection.

Young girls from the Cold Port danced passionately between the bonfire and the cold wind.

As their skirts fluttered and they spun, the bonfire roared and leaped in the night, blending with the endless sound of distant waves. The fearsome undead made noise in the audience, and on the fog-covered Pirate Island, there was a rare bustling night scene.

Tyrian stopped in an inconspicuous corner near the square, looking up at the stage.

He wasn’t here to attend the party but was on his way back to his residence, merely passing through the square.

The weekly sailor gatherings were a tradition dating back to their time in Frost Navy. Even after departing from Frost, the custom persisted within the Mist Fleet.

Decades had passed, and while much had changed, many things remained the same.

Tyrian observed his former subordinates creating a ruckus in the square, a smile slowly forming on his face. However, his smile soon faded.

He glanced at the nearby stage where the dancers performed, their passionate dance and graceful movements reminiscent of startled birds, but their eyes appeared dull and lifeless.

They had likely consumed a potion made of various herbs and a small amount of supernatural catalysts—a common practice.

The potion allowed them to withstand the cold to a certain degree but also impaired their cognition and thinking.

This prevented them from experiencing fear, leaving only their instinct to dance.

Clearly, the masters of these dancers didn’t want their instruments to jeopardize the harmonious relationship with the Cold Sea pirate leaders due to fear.

Tyrian clucked his tongue.

This was typical. Those who dared to engage with pirates, even sending people to Pirate Island, used similar methods. Since the church and authorities wouldn’t intervene in their shady dealings, ordinary people could only devise “alternative” ways to cope with the shadows and horrors of the Boundless Sea. The lives of pirates and “risk speculators” were never as romantic or exciting as adventure tales suggested.

In a way, administering the potion also protected the dancers.

Tyrian felt a hint of disappointment—he had hoped “Curved Blade Martin” would have progressed over the years, but it seemed the man continued to rely on decade-old tactics to run his “Cold Sea Entertainment Industry.”

He shook his head, ready to leave.

But as he was about to depart, a faint crackling sound of fire unexpectedly caught his attention.

This peculiar yet familiar sound caused Tyrian’s heart to clench momentarily, nearly making him stumble. He then fixed his gaze on the source of the noise.

A ghostly green flame flickered on a nearby ice wall, and as the light and shadow expanded, the center of the icy surface turned pitch black, like night. A tall, imposing figure emerged from it.

“Good evening, Tyrian,” the figure said. “I hope I haven’t interrupted your rest.”

Tyrian stared at the figure materializing from the ice, holding his breath momentarily before attempting to maintain a composed expression and reply to the greeting: “Good… good evening, Father. Why have you suddenly…”

“I have some matters to discuss with you, and I wanted to see how you’ve been recently,” Duncan said nonchalantly. “What are you doing?”

As he spoke, he looked up, and his eyes moved past Tyrian’s shoulder to focus on the stage in the distance.

There, his gaze fell upon the young girls wearing thin dresses while dancing despite the cold wind.

“Six…”

“It’s not what you think!” Tyrian hastily clarified.

For those that just want to support me, you can follow the link to paypal donating. Sadly you won’t be able to get the benefit of reading ahead 

[Table of Content]

[Previous Chapter]

[Next Chapter]