Tirian stood on the towering bridge of the Sea Mist, looking through the wide window at the vast ocean in the distance.

That used to be the direction of Dagger Island - but now there was only a wide expanse of sea and a few reconnaissance boats still searching in vain for clues.

Dagger Island disappeared for such a long time, but neither the Frost People nor the Sea Fog Fleet could find anything in this sea area.

The big pirate sighed, turned and left the bridge, then walked into his captain's room. On the desk in the captain's room, there was an antique oval mirror, which was out of tune with the overall advanced style of the Sea Mist.

Tirian came to the mirror and looked at his reflection in it, looking a little hesitant.

But soon he put his hesitation aside, reached into the drawer, took out the carved candlestick used for the ceremony, and placed it in front of the mirror.

"The Sea Mist calling the Homeless..." Tirian muttered softly. At this moment, he felt that he was like those sailors who were bewitched by the visions on the vast sea and fell into madness. In the last moments of madness, they offered sacrifices to call on the terrifying power in the depths of darkness - and the facts seemed to be not much different. What he wanted to call on was indeed the most terrifying power in this sea.

It's just that that power happened to be his father.

The candlestick lit up spontaneously, and a bright flame jumped above the candle. The light and shadow were reflected in the mirror. Tirian looked at the small flame a little nervously. When he saw it jump a few times and then quickly turn a layer of dark green, he knew that his call was successfully responded to.

The oval mirror was quickly stained with a layer of flames, and the center of the mirror became as black as ink. Tirian's own figure disappeared in the mirror. A moment later, another figure emerged from it - it was Duncan's real body who stayed on the Lost Homeland.

Duncan was holding a piece of bread in his hand. He raised his head and glanced at the mirror: "I was just about to have lunch - have you eaten?"

"Um... not yet." Tirian was stunned for a moment, and answered somewhat uncomfortable - for some reason, his father seemed to have changed quietly after regaining his humanity, and his way of greeting seemed so different. The good news was that this way of greeting was actually very cordial and friendly, but Tirian had not talked to his father so naturally for too long, and he still felt particularly awkward.

"You should eat lunch on time. It's good for your health," Duncan said casually. "What do you want from me?"

"We have searched the entire sea area around Dagger Island and found nothing." Tirean calmed down and put his attention back on the business. "The Frost People are still searching, but I think they will be in vain."

"The deep sea swallowed up the island. The root of the problem is underwater. There is no point in searching on the sea surface. The biggest problem now is that we don't have the right diving equipment," Duncan shook his head. "Also, the city is getting nervous now. The church will soon expand the search to the second waterway. Don't worry, I have already sent a warning to your informants."

Tirian subconsciously tensed up when he heard that the church was going to search the Second Waterway, but he heaved a sigh of relief when he heard the second half of Duncan's words. Then he frowned and asked, "Do they suspect that the heretic's nest in the city is hidden in the Second Waterway?"

"After all, they have already overturned the entire city-state," Duncan raised his eyelids, "except for the second waterway, they have no other options."

Tirian frowned and said nothing. Duncan asked, "Why, what do you think?"

"...I don't think they can find any clues in the Second Waterway," Tirian shook his head slowly. "Although my informants don't control the entire Second Waterway, at least they are familiar with the situation down there and control several key nodes. If there really is a large number of Oblivion Cultists hiding down there and holding a large ceremony down there...I should have heard about it."

"Perhaps they hid it really well, or perhaps the ritual they performed had distorted the perception of all informants who noticed the movement - either they didn't notice it, or if they did, it would be contaminated, which resulted in you not receiving the correct intelligence."

Tirian nodded slowly. "...This is indeed an explanation. After all, you have confirmed the existence of cognitive pollution in the city-state."

"I will also keep an eye on the Second Waterway," said Duncan in the mirror. "I am also curious about where those Annihilation Cultists are hiding. If I find that your people are in trouble during this process, I will try my best to help them."

"Thank you very much." Tirian immediately bowed his head and said.

Just then, a sudden knock on the door interrupted the conversation in the captain's room.

"Someone is here to see you," Duncan in the mirror noticed the movement here, "If there's nothing else, just go and do your own thing."

"Yes, father."

The figure in the mirror faded away, the flames at the edge of the mirror dissipated, and the candlestick in front of the mirror gradually returned to its original state.

Tirian breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the pressure gradually fade away in his heart, then frowned, stood up and opened the door: "What's going on?"

"It's a fast ship from Frost," said an undead sailor with a hole in his head standing outside the door, saluting. "They were flying flags and light signals of 'Non-Violence Action' and 'Request for Contact', and they were approaching like a group of... messengers."

"Emissary?" Tirian was stunned for a moment, but soon, he showed an interested expression on his face. "This is quite interesting... They really can't sit still."

"Fire?" The sailor looked at his captain expectantly.

"Let them come," Tirian glared at the sailor, and then added, "Only three people are allowed on board. If you can't accept it, go back to where you came from."

On the mechanical clipper flying the flag of the Frost City-State, a man in a well-dressed suit and gold-rimmed glasses stood on the bow deck. He wiped his glasses again and again nervously, while looking up at the steel battleship that was constantly enlarging in his field of vision.

The Sea Mist was getting closer and closer, and its high bow was like a mountain floating on the ice sea, bringing an increasingly strong sense of oppression. On the surrounding sea surface, the tiny pieces of floating ice seemed to be some kind of living thing, floating and cruising in the sea water, and even consciously rotating around the hull of the mechanical speedboat, and constantly hitting the hull near the waterline.

The cracking sound of the broken ice hitting the hull was disturbing and nerve-wracking.

The confidential secretary couldn't help but wipe his eyes again, but in his mind, he couldn't help but think of the stories passed down by word of mouth in the Frost City-State - all the stories revolved around the curse on the open sea, the big pirate in the fog, the sailor who was frozen into an ice sculpture in his sleep, and a little child.

"We are close enough," the confidential secretary put on his gold-rimmed glasses, took a deep breath, and said to the accompanying officer beside him, "Let's stop at this distance - if we go any further, the battleship will open fire."

"Slowest speed, turn left!" The accompanying officer turned his head and shouted to the sailor who was delivering the message.

The speed of the mechanical speedboat suddenly slowed down, and the direction of the bow was slightly adjusted, making itself parallel to the huge steel battleship little by little.

At the same time, the accompanying officer was paying attention to the movements on the Sea Mist.

He saw flashing lights suddenly appear on the battleship, and then a sailor appeared on the side of the ship, waving a flag towards the mechanical clipper.

"They sent a signal," the confidential secretary asked quickly, "what does it mean?"

"The Sea Mist accepted our request... Thank God, this time it was a signal that living people could understand," the accompanying officer was obviously relieved. Then, he saw another small boat lowered from the side of the warship, "and they lowered the small boat for transporting personnel."

"May the God of Death bless you... I thought they would just open fire." The confidential secretary was also obviously relieved. As the first "envoy" sent to negotiate with the Sea Mist Fleet, although he had mentally prepared to be loyal to the city-state before coming, he still felt a sense of relief for surviving the disaster.

The small boat sent from the Sea Mist soon arrived next to the Frost Man's mechanical speedboat. On the boat sat several undead sailors wearing old-era naval uniforms.

The conspicuous Queen's emblem on their arms and the uniforms representing the previous era are particularly eye-catching, but what is even more eye-catching than the outfit is their dignity as undead.

Two of them had large holes in their heads, another had a hole through his chest, and only one seemed to have no external injuries - but his body was horribly swollen, like a corpse that had been soaked in sea water for three days.

The Frost sailors on the mechanical clipper were a little nervous when they saw these undead sailors, and after watching them step onto the Frost ship, many of them showed complicated looks.

However, the undead people obviously did not care about the attitudes of these living people. They just walked straight towards the person who seemed to have the highest military rank at the scene.

"Who is the messenger?"

"It's me," the man wearing gold-rimmed glasses and a short dress stepped forward immediately. He controlled his nervousness and tried not to focus too much on the terrifying features of the undead sailors. He tried to speak in a calm tone, "My name is Eddie Ruhl. I'm here to talk to the Sea Mist Fleet on behalf of the Frost City-State."

"A clerk?" The bloated undead sailor frowned and looked at the confidential secretary who called himself Eddie, with a teasing tone, "I thought you would at least send a few military representatives - the Frost Navy can't find a few brave soldiers now?"

The accompanying officer at the side immediately took half a step forward, but before he could open his mouth, Eddie stretched out his hand to stop him.

"I am a messenger," the civilian official with gold-rimmed glasses said, looking at the undead sailor in front of him, "Take me to see General Tirian."