Chapter 221 | The Crimson Moon Returns

His eyes quickly swept over the cabin corridor.

Surprisingly, there was still light inside the shipwreck. Looking up, he saw the ceiling of the cabin was crawling with bioluminescent algae, casting a sickly green glow that illuminated the empty rooms.

The corridor was empty. It seemed all the Deep Ones on the ship had rushed out to join the battle. The cabins were dead silent, but this quiet environment only made Lynch's heart flutter with unease.

There was no time for nerves; he had to find his target as quickly as possible.

Lynch's mind raced.

From his End Resonance with the silenced Mark, it was clear that the Deep Ones had prepared to leave Rhine immediately after Princess Chloe handed over the gemstone. This meant there was a high probability that this Deep One tribe had come specifically for this purpose, and their other actions were merely incidental.

If this hypothesis held true, such an important item would most likely be kept by the tribal chief. And as the leader, it would only be natural for them to choose the most comfortable room in the shipwreck to reside in.

So... the captain's quarters?

With a sudden realization, Lynch immediately sprang into action, turning and dashing toward the captain's quarters.

From his previous visits to the Church of the Black Night's vessel and the Commercial Alliance's cargo ship, Lynch had a general understanding of ship layouts of this era. Consequently, it didn't take much effort for him to locate the thick door of the captain's quarters.

Outside the door were large splatters of dried blood and signs of forced entry. It appeared a fierce struggle had occurred when the ship sank. Fortunately, the damaged door could no longer be locked. Lynch pressed his side against the wall beside the door, took a few deep breaths to steady his nerves, and gave the heavy wooden door a gentle nudge with his pistol. It creaked softly and slowly swung open, revealing a crack.

A heavy, fishy stench rushed out to meet him. It was the classic smell of the Deep Ones, which had grown incredibly concentrated in this enclosed space.

Someone definitely lived in this cabin on a regular basis.

Clink.

Lynch flicked a one-penny coin, which clattered against the wooden floorboards. Holding his breath, he listened intently. The cabin remained dead silent, save for the sound of the coin rolling across the floor.

Maintaining his lurking state, Lynch executed a silent forward roll through the gap in the door. As he rolled, his eyes swept the room, confirming that the captain's quarters were empty.

Safe.

But it was a shocking sight.

The floor was covered with patches of dried mucus that emitted a foul, fishy odor—likely bodily fluids dripped from the occupant.

The items in the room had been thoroughly ransacked. Torn, ruined uniforms and navigational equipment were piled in a corner. The glass doors of a wall cabinet had been smashed to pieces, and the wine bottles and collectibles inside had been completely looted, leaving only a few fragments behind.

In the center of the room, several daggers were stabbed into a long table draped with a massive nautical chart, shredding it. A few pale skulls were scattered across the table, their mouths gaping wide, their hollow eye sockets staring directly at the intruding Lynch.

What kind of hobby is this, putting these things on the table?

In truth, the skulls weren't the only bizarre things. The captain's quarters were cluttered with all sorts of strange items: dried dead fish, massive scales, withered seaweed, sharp fish bones, and various unknown trinkets scattered here and there.

In the center of the table sat a large copper basin filled with a bizarre green liquid. There was no fire beneath it, yet the liquid bubbled and boiled as if hot, occasionally turning up tiny fish bones and emitting an eerie aura.

Lynch felt as though he had stepped into the room of a medieval wizard; everything felt incredibly sinister. But even more bizarrely, he spotted a blonde-haired, blue-eyed doll by the bed. The doll was quite exquisite, but the moment he saw it, his mind immediately conjured an image of a burly, fish-headed monster cradling a doll.

The mental image was too horrifying. Lynch quickly shook his head, reigning in his imagination.

Nothing, nothing, still nothing.

Lynch quickly searched the entire room, but found nothing.

A room this bizarre was likely the dwelling of a tribal religious figure. Lynch immediately recalled the white-haired old Deep One who had led the charge outside, or the enemy who had led the chanting of the oath. This room must have been occupied by one of them.

This meant there might be another tribal chief or commander, and they had simply allowed the wizard or priest to occupy the best quarters out of respect.

In that case, he would check the first mate's cabin, which was also one of the better accommodations on the ship.

Boom!

The entire shipwreck shuddered violently once more, causing Lynch to sway. He barely managed to keep his footing. It seemed the battle outside was growing increasingly fierce.

He didn't know how much longer the Yellow Apostle could hold out, but he had to prepare for the worst.

Not daring to waste any time, Lynch gave the captain's quarters one final sweep and decisively left the room.

Before leaving, he didn't forget to pick up his one-penny coin.

I'm just avoiding leaving any traces, not because I'm stingy.

The corridor remained dead silent, which relieved Lynch slightly. It seemed the Deep Ones had indeed mobilized all their forces, meaning he was unlikely to be ambushed out of nowhere.

Maintaining his lurking state, he sped down the corridor. This time, Lynch changed his approach. Relying on his silence, he kicked open the door to the first mate's cabin and rolled inside.

Without any sound to warn them, any enemy inside would be caught completely off guard.

However, the scene inside showed Lynch the true meaning of being caught off guard.

The first mate's cabin had been completely hollowed out. A massive hole had been dug right in the center of the cabin, and Lynch nearly plunged straight into it.

Barely steadying himself at the edge of the hole, a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. This place was even more bizarre than the captain's quarters.

Around the massive hole, a glowing green pentagram was drawn with a strange liquid. This liquid flowed along fixed paths on the flat floor, its surface constantly bubbling with eerie foam, immediately reminding Lynch of the copper basin in the captain's quarters.

At each of the pentagram's five points sat a severed human head. Atop each head flickered a cluster of green flame, twisting and dancing from time to time, casting a sinister, faint light.

The heads had already begun to decay, but it was still clear that a circular hole had been bored into the back of each skull. The brain tissue and flesh inside had vanished entirely, as if sucked clean, leaving behind nothing but hollow shells.

Yet even so, the moment Lynch burst in, the facial features of these heads began to twitch, contorting into expressions of despair and howling agony. In his ears, Lynch could even faintly hear low, agonizing groans that struck directly at his soul, filling his heart with a sudden, icy despair.

But this was only the beginning. Standing at the edge of the pit, Lynch immediately saw what lay within.

The decks below had been completely dug through, straight down to the bottom of the ship where the hull met the open sea. Seawater flooded the lowest hold, where over twenty corpses of sailors, all with punctured skulls, floated. A massive clump of gray, gelatinous matter enveloped these bodies. The corpses were severely decomposed, some already reduced to bare bones.

It was a grotesque shock right at the threshold. The stomach-churning sight nearly made Lynch vomit on the spot. Covering his mouth, he stumbled back a few steps, barely managing to suppress the urge to throw up.

Damn it, this must be where the Deep Ones feed that massive monster from earlier. I need to get out of here, or else... Wait?

Clack, clack, clack...

In the silent corridor behind him, a faint sound of footsteps suddenly echoed, exceptionally distinct in the quiet environment.

Holy shit.

Having watched plenty of horror movies, Lynch felt his hair stand on end. Maintaining his lurking state, he raised his gun and rolled out of the cabin. The corridor remained as dark and gloomy as before, but at the far corner, a figure flashed and vanished.

Judging by the build and characteristics, it wasn't a Deep One. It was definitely a human, and there was no fishy odor. He couldn't be mistaken.

More importantly, the silhouette was clearly that of a child around ten years old—and a girl, at that.

Recalling the doll in the captain's quarters, Lynch suddenly realized: Could she be a passenger who was aboard the cargo ship, which is why her toy was in the captain's quarters? Did she manage to hide after the shipwreck because of her small size, and now that the Deep Ones have gone out to fight, she has crawled out too?

I have to catch up and check. If this is true, she might know where the leader of these Deep Ones is.

Gritting his teeth, Lynch held his cane and raised his gun, giving chase down the corridor. At the end of the hallway was the sailors' recreation room, its half-open door still swaying slightly.

There were no bioluminescent algae inside, leaving it pitch black. After a brief hesitation, Lynch used his cane to push the door open.

The fishy odor inside was very faint, suggesting no Deep Ones had occupied this room. Had that child been hiding in here all these days?

After hesitating for a moment, Lynch took off his top hat, hung it on his cane, and poked it through the crack in the door. The next instant, a rushing wind descended from above as a clay pot smashed down onto the hat, accompanied by a young girl's childish, screaming voice.