Chapter 739

Chapter 739: A Figure Before Doomsday

No words could describe the shock that hit Zhou Ming at that moment.

The knocking sound—dong, dong, dong—was not loud. In normal times, it would have been the most ordinary noise. But when it echoed in this tiny apartment, every knock felt like a world-shaking roar, like a hammer slamming into Zhou Ming’s ears!

His eyes flew wide. For an instant he almost thought this was some illusion born from the chain of events and disappointments he had just gone through. But he quickly sobered and realized the knocking was a real sound—and it was still going on.

He rushed to the door like a gust of wind and grabbed the handle. But just as he was about to turn it, he suddenly hesitated for two seconds.

Could he really just open the door? Would he be rushing straight into a trap?

If this had been back in the first days of being trapped in this room, he would not have had such worries. At that time he only thought the thick fog was some strange “phenomenon,” and he was sure his familiar home still lay beyond it. But now, Zhou Ming already knew what had happened to his world—his homeland had long since turned to ashes. The only thing left in the entire universe was this one small room, and deep within that endless fog… there was nothing but the ash left after Universal Extinction.

After the world had died, who would still come and knock on his door?

No matter how he thought about it, it was almost impossible for it to be a normal “living person.”

Zhou Ming weighed his choices carefully, while the knocking still repeated patiently. Each round of three dull knocks came every three to five seconds. It did not sound urgent, but it fully showed the knocker’s patience and stubbornness. It was like a polite yet stubborn Visitor, set on paying a call.

…If he opened the door, it might be a trap. But if he did not open it, he might miss this “visit.” Whoever stood outside, this was a once?in?forever event. He had to find out what it was.

Countless thoughts flashed through Zhou Ming’s mind. In the end, he took a small breath and quietly made up his mind. One hand stayed on the handle, and with the other he lightly brushed the doorframe.

Translucent phantom flames flowed and spread along the frame, forming a hazy burning barrier.

After he finished his precautions and raised his guard as high as it could go, he tightened his grip and suddenly twisted the handle, yanking the door open at great speed.

There was no one outside the door. There was only the same swirling, pulsing, writhing black fog as always.

Zhou Ming was breathing heavily. His heart pounded. He stared wide?eyed at the empty fog for a long time, unable to react.

Had he still opened the door too late? Had the knocking Visitor lost patience? Was it really such a coincidence that the Visitor left at the exact moment he opened the door?

Zhou Ming frowned. He was sure the knocking had continued right up until he opened the door. Even if the one outside had lost patience, they should not have pulled away in an instant.

He hesitated, and then a sound suddenly broke his thoughts.

It was the knocking again—the dong, dong, dong of a fist on a door reached his ears once more.

Zhou Ming’s eyes widened. He stared hard at the swirling fog in front of him. At last, he noticed it—the knocking sound was actually coming from within the black fog.

The sound seemed very close, almost pressed right against the surface of the fog, close enough to touch with a hand. But no matter how wide Zhou Ming opened his eyes, he could not see anything inside the fog. When he reached his hand into the thick mist, he felt only cold emptiness—there was nothing in there.

Only the knocking kept repeating, still as patient as ever.

Zhou Ming slowly drew back the hand he had stretched into the fog. He stood quietly in the doorway, listening to that knocking that seemed like it would never stop, calming the storm in his head.

There was a Visitor on the far side of the fog, trying to open this “little house,” but they were blocked by the shell of the “cocoon.”

After he stood in silent thought for a long time, Zhou Ming suddenly raised his head as something came to him. He turned and ran quickly to the desk.

He hurriedly gathered up a few things—a whiteboard marker, paper, a roll of soft measuring tape, a ball of string, and many other little odds and ends. He stuffed them all into a plastic bag, then carried it back to the doorway.

Then he found a small slip of paper and quickly wrote a line on it in the common tongue of the Boundless Sea: “I heard you. Who are you?”

He stuck the note to the mouth of the plastic bag, then, without any hesitation, threw the bag toward the swirling black fog.

The plastic bag stuffed with junk was swallowed by the writhing mist in an instant and vanished into the depths of the darkness.

Zhou Ming stared wide?eyed in the direction where the bag had disappeared. Even his breathing unconsciously slowed. He had never waited this nervously for “something” to happen. Not even when the great fire in Pland broke out had he been this tense.

The knocking stopped. In the very second after the bag of items passed through the fog, the dong, dong, dong came to an abrupt halt.

Clearly, the “Visitor” on the far side of the fog had received the “gift” he sent and reacted to it—but after that, no matter how long Zhou Ming waited, there was no further response.

Aside from the knocking coming to an end, no more information arrived.

Until, somewhere else—

On the chart table, Goathead suddenly sensed something. Its wooden neck creaked as it turned toward the door of the captain’s cabin—a tall, imposing figure opened the door and walked in, his steps heavy.

“Name?”

“Duncan Abnomar.”

Duncan slowly walked behind the enchanted sea chart table and sat down in the chair with a backrest. He let out a long breath, as if he were pushing all his fatigue and tangled thoughts out of his body with that single sigh.

Goathead instantly noticed the captain’s state. It had already prepared an aria of at least five minutes to greet the captain and chat about the border’s unique weather, but now it swallowed all of that in one gulp. After hesitating for a moment, it carefully asked: “Are you… all right? You look upset.”

Duncan glanced at Goathead and said casually: “Someone knocked and got stood up.”

Goathead thought this over very seriously: “…Does this have something to do with AI?”

Duncan waved his hand, already long used to this kind of completely off?topic question.

“Looks like it has nothing to do with AI,” Goathead said at once, even more used to this than Duncan was. Once it realized the captain did not want to say more, it quickly adjusted its mood and changed the subject: “We’re about to pass through the thick fog of the Eternal Veil, Captain. Are we heading straight back to Lightwind Harbor next, or do you have other plans?”

“…We’ll head back to Lightwind Harbor. I need some time to sort out my thoughts, and I also need to discuss a few things with those Popes—they should all be staying in the city?state for now.”

“Understood, Captain,” Goathead answered at once. Then it opened its mouth again, clearly hesitated, and went on: “Also, what do you think about what Vanna and Morris reported?”

“You mean those ‘figures’ they saw before they evacuated Sacred Island?”

“Yes,” Goathead said. “Wearing ragged robes, looking like phantoms of a Ender, but they never interacted with anyone, as if they existed in another space?time entirely… This doesn’t sound like the Enders we know. They appeared on Sacred Island, and… I just feel like there’s something very strange about this.”

Duncan thought for a moment. Then he casually took out a palm?sized photo print and laid it on the enchanted sea chart table to study it carefully.

It was what Morris had given him during their earlier meeting in the cabin—the only piece of evidence the Old Scholar had managed to gather when he witnessed those suspicious figures suddenly appear on Sacred Island.

The image on the photo was not very clear. Fine stripes covered the whole picture like some kind of interference or gauze veil. Even so, one could still make out the black door deep inside the cavern, and the vague white figure by the door.

The white figure in the tattered robe had features blurred into a smear. Only from his posture and position could one tell he seemed to be carefully observing something—observing the black door, or something behind it.

“In the past, when a Ender appeared before people, they were either lunatics who had lost their reason and knew only how to wildly spread their Doomsday theories, or they were still?sane Scholars trying to pass on information or give some mental guidance to the witnesses,” Goathead muttered at Duncan’s side. “This is the first time we’ve seen phantoms that don’t interact with anyone at all. They all looked busy with their own work and didn’t notice the intense fighting nearby at all, like…”

Duncan spoke softly: “Like travelers in a hurry, making their way along a journey.”

Goathead froze for a second: “You mean…”

“Just a sudden thought,” Duncan said, raising his head. “They looked absorbed in their work and didn’t react to their surroundings at all. Maybe… what we saw was the End Survey Team, moving through the Time?Stream to make their observations. This is what they look like when they’re ‘on the road.’”

Goathead’s wooden jaw moved: “…So you’re saying Vanna and Morris saw the afterimages those Critt people left while traveling through the Time?Stream? But there have never been any records of sightings like that before…”

“Maybe it’s related to the special environment at the border. Or maybe…”

Duncan stopped. After a brief silence, he shook his head.

“Or maybe it’s another prophetic vision.”

For a moment, Goathead did not react: “Another prophetic vision?”

“Back when the End Survey Team set out from the early era of the Deep Sea, they reached as far as ‘the end of time,’ which is the moment of the Sanctuary World’s End,” Duncan said calmly. His gaze, almost divine, rested on Goathead’s eyes. “That means…”

He did not finish the sentence, but Goathead already understood: “That means we’ll see them at the end of time. Doomsday is the only moment when our Time?Stream and theirs truly meet…”

Duncan did not answer. He only quietly watched the photo on the enchanted sea chart table, watching that hazy figure standing by the black door, as if carefully observing something.

He did not know if it was just his imagination, but he felt that the blurry figure had grown a little clearer.