Belazov had completed his inspection of Dagger Island and supervision of the research work, and now it was time for the military representative to leave.

Near the pier of the Dagger Island Bay Port, Professor Myerson, who came in person to see them off, raised his head and looked at the "Sea Petrel" which was preparing for departure.

Sailors were boarding the ship, port officials were checking formalities, and clergymen in robes and holding incense burners were walking near the ropes, gently shaking the incense in their hands and praying for the mechanical parts of the ship.

Today is a fine day, a good day to set sail.

Belazov stood on the dock, watching the sailors return to the Petrel, and turned to Professor Myerson and said, "Professor, I am impressed by your research, but I still need to remind you that the project on Dagger Island is progressing slowly, and some people in the city-state are getting impatient."

"The order I received was to figure out the various properties of the submersible under the premise of safety, try to decipher its material composition, and in the next stage try to figure out the principle of its appearance," the old professor said calmly. "We are now moving forward according to the schedule. If the bigwigs in the Government Affairs Office really have ideas, they can try to find the blueprints left by the Frost Queen to build the fourth or even fifth submersible. It is much more convenient to send someone directly than to scrape samples every day in the laboratory."

"They won't like your reply - but I'm happy to convey it to you," General Belazov laughed. "They won't have the courage to build a submersible. This will make their expressions more interesting."

Professor Myerson shrugged, then remained silent for a moment, and said in a complicated tone: "Although I am joking, to be honest, I am also quite worried about the progress of this matter."

Belazov did not say anything, but just looked calmly at the old professor who had experienced the "Queen's era".

"Scraping samples and analyzing physical and chemical properties day after day is certainly an essential part of the regular research process, but as you can see, there are only so many things we can analyze from those samples," the old professor sighed. "Even if we really open the hatch one day, I'm afraid we won't get more secrets from the submersible. The real secret is not here, General, you know what I mean."

"… Below a thousand meters, professor, your ideas are somewhat dangerous."

Myerson sighed. "I thought a soldier like you would be more inclined to those dangerous ideas than a scholar like me."

"My duty is to protect the safety of the city-state. This mission makes me more inclined to act cautiously and conservatively," Belazov said calmly. "So, you actually intend to restart... those 'diving equipment'?"

"You actually want to say 'Restart the Abyss Project', right?" The old professor smiled and shook his head. "Don't worry, I'm not that reckless. It's just that there is an unavoidable fact here - the key to the whole thing is under the deep water, and a replica of the diving bell placed in the laboratory can't solve any puzzles. Maybe we should really consider a 'reserve plan' - not necessarily actively diving, but in case the ninth or even tenth replica really surfaces, we should at least have some means to deal with it."

"...I will convey your suggestion to the Government Affairs Office," Belazov hesitated for a moment and exhaled softly, "and before a clear order is issued, the project in the secret room will proceed as usual."

The old professor nodded: "Thank you."

The Petrel left.

The steam-powered clipper cut through the gentle waves, leaving a beautiful, expanding wake on the boundless sea. The steep and winding coast of Dagger Island slowly receded from view, and gradually disappeared into the depths of the mist that was common in the northern waters.

Belazov on the deck withdrew his gaze from the island and turned to walk towards the captain's room.

Although Dagger Island is not far from Frost Island, it is still a few hours' sail away. During this boring journey, he needs to organize his thoughts and think carefully about how to report to the city-state's managers about the No. 3 submersible - and how to mention the suggestions given by Professor Myerson at the end.

The Abyss Project... This old case from half a century ago has left such a profound and terrifying impact that it has gradually become an unthinking taboo. But now that new copies have begun to surface from the deep sea, I'm afraid we should really take a more proactive approach.

A sailor was waiting near the captain's room and nodded to the general, "The steam core is operating normally. We will arrive at Frost No. 1 Port in four hours."

Belazov glanced at the unfamiliar sailor and nodded slightly: "I need to rest for a while, please don't disturb me if you have nothing to do."

"Yes, General."

Belazov returned to the captain's room, sat down at the desk, listened to the low mechanical sounds coming from deep in the floor under his feet, and breathed a sigh of relief.

We will be able to return to the island soon.

He calmed himself, opened the desk drawer casually, and took out the notes that he had placed in the secret compartment of the drawer.

There was nothing unusual on this trip to Dagger Island, and the return voyage was smooth, but some procedural matters still cannot be omitted. This is an order and a responsibility.

After opening the notebook, the first sentence on it caught my eye:

Even if everything is normal, you must confirm your own sanity and judgment. Even if there is nothing suspicious around you, you must verify the following:

Belazov flipped the pages of the book, performing a series of operations with great skill.

The sound of flipping pages continued to echo in the room——

〖You are left-handed, now confirm this...

Remember a color, then turn to the next page...it should be blue or black.

Keyword, dagger, use your imagination to confirm whether the picture in your mind matches the picture on the next page.

Try to spell your name, Belazov, in the margin on the next page.

The accompanying personnel have been streamlined for this departure. There are only 32 people on board - including yourself. If there are obvious deviations in the personnel, roll call will be carried out immediately.

The deputy brought this time is Benjamin Yordon, who has a burn scar near his right eye.

Belazov was flipping through the pages of the book, simply confirming his memories or repeating them subconsciously, but suddenly, his movements stopped.

His eyes fell on the last sentence of the notes on this page.

"There is a burn scar near the right eye..." Belazov repeated this sentence silently, with an inexplicable doubt floating in his mind.

Right eye?

He slowly closed the notebook and put it back into the secret compartment. He stood up with a calm expression and pushed open the door of the captain's room.

"Benjamin!" he called his adjutant's name.

A middle-aged officer soon pushed open the door of a nearby room and came in front of Belazov.

"General?"

Belazov looked at Benjamin's face.

In the middle of his face is his eye, and there is only one of it.

A vague sense of disharmony was beating in his heart. Belazov's reason told him that there seemed to be something wrong with what he saw. However, a hazy curtain seemed to cover his mind. He didn't know what went wrong, and he felt that everything was reasonable.

This slight deviation in consciousness made the general gradually more alert. He stared at Benjamin for a long time, trying to find the source of the sense of disharmony in his heart, until the adjutant's voice reached his ears again: "General? What happened?"

"...Benjamin, how many eyes should a person have?" Belazov suddenly asked.

The adjutant was suddenly stunned, as if his mind went blank before this question. Seeing this, Belazov immediately said: "Forget this question, I just asked casually - go back to your room and rest first, I'll go downstairs to take a look."

The adjutant blinked, and although he was puzzled, he nodded: "Yes, General."

The one-eyed man named Benjamin returned to the room and looked normal. Belazov looked at his back and breathed a sigh of relief. Then he turned around and walked quickly to the end of the corridor.

He knew that he had been a little rash just now - he shouldn't ask such a strange question to someone who seemed a little strange when he already had doubts, even if the other person was one of his most trusted lieutenants.

But if he hadn't asked just now, he couldn't confirm whether the strangeness he vaguely sensed really existed.

Now, he confirmed it.

Something's not right on the ship. Something... hidden and dangerous has made it aboard.

He walked quickly through the corridor and came to the sailors' mess.

The mess hall was full of sailors, and the soldiers looked at the general who suddenly appeared in some surprise and nervousness.

Belazov glanced at everyone here, then waved to them and quickly went to the bridge.

There are people here too.

There were many people on the deck.

The crew of the Haiyan was reduced this time, with only 32 people on board when it set out.

The numbers are wrong. Very, very wrong.

However, the thought of "everything is normal" kept jumping around in my mind, as if it was fighting against the incongruous facts that were already in plain sight.

Belazov stood on the stairs leading to the machinery bay, looking down the ramp with a calm expression.

The torn consciousness was in conflict, but he no longer needed to care about the detailed differences between the two consciousnesses.

There are still more than two hours before arriving at the main island of Frost.

The ship was heading straight towards the city-state.

He took a deep breath and walked towards the engine room at the deepest part of the ship.