Donna's body jerked back suddenly, her pupils constricting sharply, her mouth half-open as a scream rose to her lips. If she hadn't previously witnessed the "messenger," she would certainly have lost control, staggering to her feet in sheer terror, worrying whether tables or chairs might topple. Fortunately, she was no longer the young girl who, when first aboard the White Jasper, had known nothing about sea matters. Her voice merely grew a bit sharper, and she pointed toward the window, stammering, "Yes, yes—there are the undead! Dead-headed undead!" She described the creature she had just seen using the most common type of undead in folk tales. Cecil stood up swiftly, took two steps to reach Donna's side, looked out at the window where the wind was blowing fiercely, and studied the scene for several seconds. "Nothing at all," she said truthfully. Donna retreated slightly, then gathered her courage, leaned forward carefully, and came closer—only to find the trees swaying, objects flying about, and no single person in sight. "Just now, just now, really—there he was, wearing a black cloak, with no head, blood flowing from his neck!" Dona said, gesturing as if to convince the adults present. Her father, Uldis Blanch, pushed the table and stood up, walking to the window, where he gazed for a moment before saying, "Dona, tonight no more looking at that collection of Vansy horror stories!" "But—but…" Dona looked distressed, trying to defend herself. At that moment, Crivis ascended to the second floor and approached, asking, "What's happened?" "Dona claims she saw the outside—living corpses, without heads," explained another guard, Tige, with a light laugh. Crivis paused for two seconds, then nodded to Dona: "All right, it will pass. The wind is strong outside—more dangerous. We'll stay until it calms down, then we'll leave." In Dona's eyes, Count Clivis's words showed that he believed in her and had chosen the most reliable course of action; to Ulde, Tige, and the others, it seemed merely a clumsy attempt to comfort a child. Seeing Dona still tense and realizing that the true employer was also dissatisfied, Clivis pulled out a chair, sat down, and spoke calmly: "In Bances, there is a peculiar custom: on nights when the weather changes dramatically, one should remain indoors, not responding to any knocking or sounds." "So if we open the door, we'll be taken by that living corpse?" asked Danton, who had seen the bone messenger with his sister. "That's essentially what we mean," Clivis said, lifting a glass of plain water and taking a sip. It was all so clear now—Dona settled down, convinced that as long as she stayed in the dining room, she would be safe from the terrifying living corpse she had just encountered. It was only then that she realized the guests around her had all turned their attention toward her, drawn by the commotion. Dona felt uneasy under the steady gaze of everyone, instinctively tilting her head down to avoid everything. I haven't done anything wrong! I saw it clearly! With determination, Dona straightened her neck and glanced around. She saw one by one the gentlemen in tailcoats and the ladies in elegant dresses withdrawing their eyes, lowering their heads, picking up their soup spoons, and spooning the dark, blood-like clots—stirred with several spices—into their porcelain bowls. A faint red hue stained their lips, and under the glow of the crystal chandeliers, their faces appeared notably pale, creating a striking contrast that unexpectedly stirred a sense of panic within Dona. She quickly straightened her head, eager to begin the dinner, and silently prayed to the goddess, hoping the wind would soon subside. ………… The Bances Port Telegraph Office. Just as Elan and the first mate finished sending the naval report, they noticed the wind howling outside, rattling the windows and doors of the building. "Well, the weather here is always so unpredictable." Ailand donned his ship-shaped hat and sighed with a smile. His first mate, Harris, chuckled heartily. "Otherwise, how could they have earned the title of 'Weather Museum'?" "You'd better stay indoors," the lady from the telegraph office, with brown curly hair, said slowly. "Otherwise, you might lose your head." "I know," Harris replied calmly, already reaching for the door. "But I've tried several times, and nothing ever happens." Unconcerned, he was about to pull the door open and leave. Ailand stopped him, paused thoughtfully, and said, "Would it be all right to go to the church next door?" "You're probably closing up now, aren't you?" "That's fine," the lady with brown curls remained as composed and deliberate as ever. Ailand nodded, opened the main door of the telegraph office, and walked steadily toward the storm church several dozen meters away, struggling against the wind that whipped up like it could lift children. First Mate Harris held his hat tightly, following the captain closely, as if he were about to stride straight back to the White Agate. But as soon as he opened his mouth, the wind rushed into it, muffling all his words. After a moment of stammering, he wisely closed his mouth, deciding against any clearly unrealistic proposals. It was still only ten minutes before seven, and only early evening—yet the doors of the Storm Church remained open, welcoming the faithful. The wind had softened considerably by now, at least, so that neither Ailran nor Harris needed to fear their hats would be blown away at any moment. Entering the church and walking down the dim, solemn corridor, the two reached the great prayer hall, where a man in a deep blue priest's robe sat in the front row, quietly gazing at the great "Storm Emblem" on the altar—a magnificent symbol composed of wind, waves, and thunder. Ailran smiled and approached, patting the familiar figure on the shoulder. "Jes, where's the bishop?" After being gently tapped, the priest's head noticeably wobbled. Then, it leaned forward and crashed to the ground with a loud thud, rolling continuously. Blood gushed from the priest's neck like a fountain, splashing all over Aelran. The cool, damp sensation seeped into his mind, and the vivid, rich red color blurred his vision. All he could see was a world dyed crimson, and the now-still head, its eyes blank and fixed upward. ………… At 7:15, when Celine and Daniz stepped out of the first-class dining room, they noticed that the wind which had previously caused the ship to rock steadily had now calmed. After pausing for a moment, Celine walked straight to the ship's entrance and asked the crew stationed there, "Has anyone else not returned yet?" "The crew member, having seen the passenger enjoy the delicious fish-stew with the captain, didn't hesitate to share: 'Except for the Blanch family who went to the Qing Lemon Restaurant, the other passengers all returned before the wind picked up—well, it's a bit farther away and the meal takes longer.' 'Ah yes, the captain and first mate went to the telegraph office as well and haven't come back yet.' Klein gave a barely perceptible nod, remained silent, and then returned to Room 312. Standing by the window, he watched the waves being lifted by the wind. Even without consulting the mysterious realm above the gray mist through divination, his intuitive sense of spirit already hinted at something unfavorable gathering and unfolding. After waiting an additional five minutes, he still hadn't seen the captain or the family of Tarnara return. Klein glanced at Daniz, prompting the well-known pirate, who had been lazily reclining in his armchair, to sit up straight. He then turned away, said nothing, and entered the bathroom." He skillfully closed the door, drew the paper figures, assumed a disguise, and arrived atop the gray mist, ready to make another divination. Previously, he had considered potential risks at Bansi Port; now, with the wind rising, he intended to assess the current severity of those risks. "Bansi Port is at risk," said Crane, holding the pendulum and softly reciting the incantation. After repeating it again and again, he opened his eyes to find the yellow crystal pendant rotating clockwise, though only slowly and with modest amplitude. There is indeed a risk—but one within an acceptable range... This contradicts the earlier revelation. Crane rested his elbows on the edge of the bronze long table, murmuring in puzzlement. He quickly considered a possibility: the current risk might not equate to the latent one. Unless something specific had been triggered, or unless deeper investigation had uncovered something, the icebergs hidden beneath the sea floor would remain undisturbed. This hidden risk may have existed for three or four centuries, or even longer—by no means because of my arrival... Well, the current danger might actually bear no relation to this hidden risk at all; unfortunately, lacking the necessary information, I cannot yet make a prediction on this hypothesis. After completing the interpretation, Caine swiftly returned to the real world, left the bathroom, and sat down at a chair. He remained silent and hesitant, motionless for a long time, which unexpectedly made Daniz, the "Flame," feel uneasy. Since Germain Spalro first mentioned the hidden danger in Banzhong Harbor, this renowned pirate has been somewhat concerned. What must be truly terrifying to make this monster change his mind and abandon the lemon restaurant? How unfortunate! How unfortunate indeed! Daniz, overwhelmed by the almost motionless atmosphere, could no longer sit still and rose to walk back and forth. At that very moment, he saw the monster, Germán Sparrow, suddenly stand up, buttoning the double-breasted suit jacket button by button, and walk toward the coat stand by the door. Taking off his half-high silk hat, Caine looked steadily at "Flame," his expression unchanged, and said: "You are free." "Ah?" Daniz found this utterly unreal. He suddenly grasped what the other intended, and stammered, "You're going to save that captain, and all those ordinary people? You yourself said the outside was dangerous!" Caine donned the half-high silk hat, picked up his black hardwood cane, turned the doorknob gently, and responded calmly: "They've worked with me. They've kept my secrets. He once invited me to dinner on fish flesh. He covered the losses of the 'White Shark' for me." ... Daniz was momentarily stunned and instinctively asked, "How much?" "A few sulars," Caine said, opened the door, and stepped out. Madness! This guy is a complete madman—madman to everyone, and madman to himself! Daniz's mouth hung open, words failing to form. Good thing I'm normal! I'll stay safe here! Daniz thought half-sarcastic, half-delighted. As soon as the thought settled, the wind surged again, rattling the glass panes and making the candles inside sway and tremble. Watching this dim, restless scene, Daniz suddenly wondered: This ship moored at the harbor is part of Benshi Port too—just as vulnerable, just as exposed to risks! Staying here alone feels less secure than following that monster. At least, at least, he's powerful! Daniz's body moved faster than his mind—he dashed out of Room 312 and finally caught up with Kline just as he was about to leave his cabin. Kline glanced at him, though he said nothing, clearly conveying his question. Danzel chuckled warmly, bustling on: "To retreat at such a minor hazard! I'll be mocked by every pirate on the Sea of Sunya!" As for the excuse—Klein didn't press it. He borrowed a lantern from a crew member at the door. Holding the dim lantern, gripping his hardwood staff, and dressed in a black formal suit, he walked along the ship's side into the dim port. Danzel sighed in admiration, closely following behind.