The captain often uses some strange words, whose meanings are obscure and whose word formation is also fanciful, but the crew members on the Lost Homeland tend to take it easy.

After all, there was a pigeon on board whose words were even more bizarre and difficult to understand - and the communication between the captain and the pigeon had always been smooth, which meant that those strange words were not the captain's problem.

It is a problem of the inability of short-sighted mortals to understand.

Anyway, anything you don't understand, just treat it as the subspace dialect.

Morris did not ask what "PTSD" meant, but just silently digested the information the captain had just revealed. Duncan did not hide anything and told him about his experience in the cemetery last night.

He mainly wanted to hear the opinions of "professionals".

Duncan's story quickly attracted the attention of several people in the restaurant. Nina was the first to come over, followed by Shirley, Alice and Agou. In the end, even Vanna, who had been quietly staying alone, couldn't resist her curiosity and quietly came to the long table to eavesdrop.

"Annihilation Cultists..." After listening to Duncan's story, the first person to frown was indeed the most knowledgeable Morris, "Why would they be interested in corpses..."

"Shouldn't the Annihilation Cultists be interested in corpses?" Duncan asked curiously.

"They are not necromancers," Morris shook his head. "The Annihilation Cultists follow the Lord of the Deep and delve into the knowledge of the demon realm and the summoning realm. They have no interest in the flesh and blood of the mortal world. Not only are they not interested, they can even be said to despise and hate them, because they firmly believe that the flesh and blood of the mortal world are weak and dirty, and the demons and the Lord of the Deep in the depths of the abyss are the 'original form' with 'purity and holiness'. How could such a group of heretics do such a thing as running to the cemetery to steal corpses?"

Listening to the old scholar's explanation, Duncan frowned subconsciously.

The Annihilation Cultists despise the flesh and blood of the mortal world, and pursue "the existence of pure holiness in the Abyss"? They even believe that the Abyss Demons and the Abyss Saints possess this "pure holiness"?

Although we knew from the beginning that the cultists in this world were more bizarre than each other, the Annihilation Cultists' enthusiasm for challenging the limits of aesthetics was a bit too bizarre!

Duncan couldn't help but look at Agou who was standing beside the table - this guy was dragged here by Shirley, and was currently lying on the floor, holding a vocabulary book in his two paws and reading it quite seriously, with his ugly skeleton head shaking from side to side.

Noticing the captain's gaze, Agou raised his head in surprise, and the hideous bones all over his body crackled.

"Purity? Holiness?" Duncan looked at the Deep Hound with strange eyes. "Even the original form of life?"

Agou was stunned: "...Ah? What?"

"I can't imagine it," Duncan shook his head. "The world in the eyes of those Annihilation Cultists is probably completely different from that of ordinary people."

He just said it casually, but Shirley next to him immediately responded: "Who knows what's going on in their brains? I'm not a cultist of annihilation."

"No one said you were," Duncan said calmly.

"Tsk tsk, anyway, I dare not say anything else, but the female cultist who escaped must be dead by now," Shirley smacked her lips and said, "She must have died without a complete body."

Duncan hadn't considered what would happen to the cultist who escaped, but when he heard Shirley's words, he was stunned: "Why do you say that?"

"She was dragged into the Abyss by her symbiotic demon," Shirley explained casually. "The Annihilation Cultists, tsk, no matter how much these idiots worship the Lord of the Abyss, no matter how much they bind the Abyss demons to themselves, they will still be mistaken for humans when they run to the real depths of the Abyss. Those uncontrolled demons only recognize the breath, and they will tear her apart alive."

"Will she be torn to pieces by other Abyssal demons?" Duncan muttered, and then he couldn't help but think of what happened before, "Wait, but I remember that you and Agou also used a similar method to escape - right in front of me, you jumped into the rift leading to the Abyss."

Speaking of this great feat, Shirley's face was a little strange, but she quickly waved her hand: "That's different. When Ah Gou took me on the run, he would always protect me desperately. He would try to confuse my aura. If he couldn't get away with it, he would fight with other deep demons - so every time he used this trick to run away, he would get hurt.

"Other deep demons are a different story - like the one you just mentioned, it won't protect its master. Right, Agou?"

"That's the 'Death Bird'," Agou raised his head and responded to Shirley while looking at Duncan cautiously. "Ordinary Abyssal Demons will not take the initiative to protect their masters. They don't have a 'heart' at all. They act together with the Annihilation Cultists only because they are restricted by the symbiotic contract. Once they run to the Abyss, they will immediately lose control, and that cultist is dead."

"So that's what happened," Duncan stroked his chin and muttered thoughtfully, "No wonder that guy looked so reluctant when he was dragged in..."

At this moment, Vanna, who had been standing by without saying anything, seemed to finally lose her patience. She moved a little closer to the long table and said, "Those heretics... apart from trying to take you out of the cemetery, did they do anything else?"

Duncan looked up at Vanna, who quickly added, "It's probably a professional habit. I'm very concerned about the purpose of those heretics. Just like Mr. Morris said just now, normal Annihilationists are not interested in the flesh and blood of the mortal world, so those who appeared in the cemetery are more suspicious."

"What you said reminds me," Duncan touched his chin and said thoughtfully, "The body I occupied at that time showed a very strange 'disintegration' phenomenon shortly after leaving the coffin. The skin and muscles disintegrated and fell off like dry soil, and those cultists seemed to have anticipated this..."

Fanna frowned slightly. She thought for a long time before she suddenly realized something: "So, the key is the body you occupied at that time."

"you mean……"

"The Annihilation Cultists are not interested in the flesh and blood of the mortal world - but what if it is not a 'flesh and blood body from the mortal world'?" Vanna raised her head and looked into Duncan's eyes seriously, "In fact, it may not be a 'flesh and blood body' at all."

Listening to Vanna's analysis, Duncan thought: "Oh... then this is a bit interesting."

※※※

After a long absence, the Sea Mist finally returned to its home port.

At the edge of a secret island shrouded by floating ice, turbulence and fog, the steel battleship with its bow raised high was docked steadily at the end of the pier. Undead sailors were busy in the cold wind and mist, some were checking the condition of the ship, while others were counting the cargo or directing the cranes on the shore to lift the heavy cargo boxes from the hold to the shore.

The Sea Mist returned from the warm central sea. Although it did not bring back the news of victory this time, it brought back gifts and specialties from afar - fine wine and souvenirs presented by the Pland authorities to the "Sea Mist Venture Capital Company", as well as tobacco, cloth and handicrafts purchased by the captain. These things are good things for the cold, closed and hidden island.

Although the undead have left the world of the living, they still have independent personalities and emotions. They also need a certain quality of life, entertainment and hobbies. In some ways, they even need these things more than the living.

Because their souls always feel cold and empty, they need the warm creations of the civilized world to fill those voids.

First mate Aiden stood at the edge of the deck, carefully stuffing the fine tobacco from Pland into an old-style short-handled pipe, lighting it with a lighter, and taking a deep, comfortable puff with the mouthpiece in his mouth.

Then he held his breath and pushed harder.

A cloud of smoke emanated from the collar, cuffs, and chest pockets of his crew uniform, covering his entire upper body in white smoke.

Aiden turned his neck and looked at the smoke surrounding him, then pulled open his collar to take a look.

The bullet hole in the chest was still emitting smoke.

"Warm tobacco can fill a hole in the soul - but a hole in the body is another matter, right?"

A hoarse and deep voice suddenly came from behind. Aiden turned around and saw a pale and shriveled old man standing on the edge of the deck. The old man was wearing a priest's robe. One side of his skull was sunken, and the corresponding half of his body was damp as if it had been soaked in sea water.

That was Will, the chaplain of the Sea Mist.

After the old pastor finished muttering, he picked up the small bottle of wine, put it to his mouth, tilted his head back and took a sip.

Wine dripped from the side of his cheek, which was cracked due to the depression of his skull.

Aiden looked at the old pastor for a moment, and suddenly said: "Let me teach you a trick? You can drink this bottle of wine for several days..."

"The technique doesn't work," the old priest shook his head. "It's mainly nausea, and I've been having sour feelings since the third time."

Aiden shrugged, picked up the pipe and took another deep drag, then held his breath again, and his whole body was filled with smoke.

"Actually, there's nothing wrong with being an immortal. I couldn't do that when I was alive."

"…It's good to have a broad mind." The old pastor couldn't help but sigh.