As the starlight around her completely faded, Gauthier lowered her head and said to Frank Lee, who had just recovered, "Let them calm down." This referred to the sailors still struggling in pain. Immediately after, Gauthier drew back from the window, which shut with a loud creak. In that instant, Caine faintly noticed a moss-green vine growing upward from below, layer by layer wrapping around the "Starborne Commander." Since there was no sense of danger or strangeness, he instinctively believed this was the mysterious method—the one the "Recluse" lady used to heal injuries and restore energy. Was it a special ability inherent to her, or one granted by a magical artifact? Why did she feel so confident in beginning her treatment, allowing Frank to manage the ship's chaos, without worrying that the "Perseverance" would catch up? How far had the "Future" vessel truly flown in its final ascent? Caine no longer raised his head; instead, he turned to look at Frank Lee beside him. The chief officer, both an expert in toxins and a skilled physician, had now drawn out a soft tube from his belt pocket, the tube connected to a small glass bottle and fitted with a slender, sharp needle. "The injectable sedative I've prepared," Frank Lee said, with a lingering sense of relief and a slightly hesitant smile. I've bought similar items before and given them to the 'zombie' Marič... Klein glanced around. "This probably isn't enough." "No, not for them. I need an assistant first. They have a sedative beer to help them—haha, once they get drunk, they always get noisy. So I've added the necessary elements to most of the barrels." Frank explained casually. Medication at the first opportunity... Klein's嘴角 nearly twitched. At this moment, he finally understood why Frank was truly a "master of toxins": merely because the pirates were drunk and noisy, he had added a refined sedative to most of the alcoholic beverages, doing so without the slightest sense of guilt or hesitation—seeming to simply carry out a perfectly ordinary, natural course of action. In some ways, he was a warm, straightforward good man; in others, however, he was even more terrifying than a demon, because he never considered his actions to be "evil" at all. How had the Great Mother Goddess Church nurtured such a "mad scientist"? Clary maintained composure, followed Frank Lee for a short distance, and then located the captain, Nina, who was moving sluggishly in the shadow of the cabin wall. The tall, imposing pirate lay there, contorting in pain, her hands constantly scraping across the deck, producing sharp, grating sounds and leaving distinct, blood-streaked trails. Simply witnessing this scene made Clary's fingers ache. "Germann, help me—hold her steady so she doesn't struggle," Frank held up the needle and the tube. Klein didn't refuse, but said nothing. He calmly knelt beside her and reached out to press on Nina's shoulders. As soon as he made contact, he felt her shoulders slide away, slipping through his fingers—like his target wasn't a woman at all, but a massive fish covered in smooth, slippery scales. Klein instantly adjusted, using the precise control of the "Clown" to steady Nina's shoulders. Yet the strength with which she struggled was extraordinary, surpassing Klein's own, and soon his fingers grew weak and sore, making it difficult to maintain his grip. No wonder he's a Sequence 7 on the Seafarer Path—nor am I particularly strong among the extraordinary ones. If no feeding is required, now is the perfect moment to activate "The Thirsty Hunger," switch to the soul of McVitt, the Steel, and draw upon the strength of the Undead. In the span of thought, Caine saw Frank move closer, then kneel directly, pressing his knees against Nina's back. His muscles bulged in distinct waves, swiftly silencing Nina's struggles. The strength of a Farmer Path extraordinary is indeed impressive. Still, Mr. Frank Li, treating a lady so bluntly, you may find it difficult to attract a girlfriend. Of course, you probably don't care much—after all, you could quite simply allow your children to grow from the soil. Caine offered a few remarks, watching as Mr. Li inserted the needle into Nina's forearm. As the small vial of sedative was administered, Nina ceased her resistance, and Caine released his hands, standing up. After a few seconds, Nina straightened up and stood, brushing her hair as she spoke to Frank Lee beside her, complaining, "Why are you always so rough, like a bear? Can't you be any other way?" As she spoke, she waved her hands, her face clearly showing the pain. Unlike during her earlier deep dive, she now wore a linen shirt and a brown coat, looking no different from an ordinary pirate. Frank didn't pay attention to Nina's complaint, instead asking curiously, "Where exactly am I being rough?" "Well, let's not argue about this now—let's help them first." "You go fetch the casks; we'll pour the wine together." "Germann, would you mind joining us?" Klein glanced at the sailors lying on the deck, paused for a few seconds, and then asked, "Is our goal simply to calm them down?" "Yes," Frank Lee nodded firmly. "Shall I simply knock them out?" Klein asked calmly. This should be about as effective as the calming wine, if not more efficient... He added mentally. Nina turned in surprise, looking at Germain Spalro, momentarily at a loss for words. Frank Lee thought seriously and said, "Okay." "Good," said Kline, walking toward the long sword he had already selected, picking it up and striking the sword's owner on the head with the pommel. Thud! With precise control, the tormented pirate settled down, growing still and unconscious. Nina stared at him for a moment, her expression slightly dazed, before regaining composure. She then passed by Kline, slowing her pace and speaking softly, smiling, "I've heard your reputation, but I didn't expect you to be quite so extraordinary—normally, it's the other way around. "Indeed, your thinking is very, very unusual—quite different from ours, and remarkably close to Frank's. That may be precisely why he has come to see you as a friend so quickly." "No, madmen are not the same. Germán Sparo hasn't quite reached Frank's level yet..." Klein observed calmly, formulating his reply in his mind. He paid no attention to Nina, carrying the long blade and walking the deck, knocking one sailor after another unconscious, allowing them to wake naturally. Frank had intended to follow his example, but was asked by Nina, "Are you certain you can only knock them out without killing them?" and thus abandoned his impulse, entering the cabin to fetch the casks and proceed according to the original plan. Thud! Thud! Thud! Klein continued knocking along the forward part of the deck. By then, an elderly man in a pointed soft hat, now in his fifties, had begun to stabilize. Seeing the impassive, wildly enthusiastic adventurer approaching, he quickly tried to rise and exclaimed, "No, I don't need that!" "I'm fine! I'm fine!" No explanation was needed—the situation was clear. Klein suppressed a smile and prepared to move toward the bow. At that moment, the elder introduced himself: "I am Captain Otolov of the *Future*." Captain? Klein turned his head and noticed that several books had fallen from Otolov's side—some spread open, some lying upside down, some leaning at angles, others laid flat. "Ha! I fell from above, carrying them. It seems they also went wild when I did." Otolov explained. Klein shifted his gaze to Otolov's eyes, and there, within the pale blue irises, he detected a hint of deep-sea hue. Not the eyes that had been watching the deck during the day—yet this feeling was somewhat reminiscent of the "Star Above"… the same path? Klein refocused, and saw that Nina and Frank Lee had now calmed the remaining sailors. As he was about to glance back to see if the *Dead* had caught up, Otolov suddenly shouted: "Watch out!" Hiss! A massive wave crashed against the bow, sending the *Future* lurching violently. Had it not been for the "clown's" balance, Klein would have tumbled like Frank. The surge of the giant waves crashed down upon him like a steady rain, drenching his half-high silk hat and his double-breasted formal suit. There should be a steamer press here... After all, a mad adventurer wouldn't be out of character for getting his clothes washed—why else would he have never done so? He should have worn something in the style of the native inhabitants of the Rosses' Isles! In that instant, a cascade of thoughts of concern passed through Klein's mind. He saw the rain falling in torrents ahead, the waves rising one after another, as though they had formed mountain ranges, and felt the wind whipping through, hearing the thunder roll. Was this it—the edge of safe waters? Though the maneuver that had carried them clear of the "Dying Ship" had lifted them off course, perhaps? Klein watched Otto Lof, Nina, Frank, and the "bloodless" His Dower, who had appeared from nowhere, awaken the sailors, assigning them to their stations, working with focused urgency and anxiety to take command of the "Future." Under their efforts, the "Future" changed course in time, cutting through one wave after another, dodging lightning strikes, and safely re-entered the clear channel. Only when everything had settled did Cline finally release the "Sea God" domain seal he had been clutching, and quietly exhaled. Seeing that the "Dead Ship" still showed no signs of catching up, he truly relaxed, realizing that tonight had been far from peaceful. Surveying the crew, he noticed some pirates rubbing their heads, gasping for breath, or visibly weary, as if ready to collapse. Cline felt a little uneasy, and quietly stepped off the deck toward the cabin, silently murmuring to himself: "We've only just left the Galgas Islands, and the ship was nearly lost—this quest for the mermaids won't be easy at all..." As he ascended the stairs to the upper deck, he slowed his pace when passing the captain's quarters, pausing to observe—only to find that the door was completely sealed by green leaves, isolating the inside from the outside. He shifted his gaze, returned to his room, and considered whether to pray to "The Fool" and then journey to the Gray Mists, responding by taking control of the surrounding seas to search for the traces of "The Wounded Ship," so that the "Deathless King" Agarith—known for his sudden, inexplicable assaults—might experience the same. No, there are eyes watching. I'd rather not undertake such actions. Moreover, this would only serve as a lesson for Agarith, not a serious blow; it wouldn't warrant the risk. I must not let my anger cloud my judgment. Let it wait until after my promotion is confirmed! Finally, Caine suppressed his impulse.