Over time, it became a deeply ingrained habit; whether at sea or back home, these words were never mentioned—it was as if they simply did not exist in the world. Furthermore, when sailing, whistling was forbidden, a common taboo shared by fishermen and coastal dwellers alike. Fishermen and salvage crews also avoided standing on deck with hands behind their backs, as that portended "tangled nets," a sign of no catch. One could not sit on the "Da Zhu" [main pile/stake] on the deck, nor could one sit at the bow—in short, there were countless rules and regulations.

When Fatty and I were in Fujian, we had gone out to sea a few times with the boats, and we showed full understanding and respect for these rules, though we didn't take them too seriously. Taking advantage of the boat boss's inattention, Fatty and I deliberately sat on the Da Zhu—which referred to the piles on the deck—but no accident occurred. However, without rules, nothing can be accomplished; these maritime taboos were likely similar to the professional code of "no grave robbing from dawn till lamp out," meant to increase the margin of safety rather than intentionally harm anyone.

Inley Yang also had a set of superstitions and rules she had learned from the US Navy. They say American science and technology are advanced, but when it comes to superstition, they are no less fervent than fishermen or coastal dwellers, and their rules were even more bizarre, even dictating exactly how the bucket used for scrubbing the deck should be placed.

Due to the differing cultural backgrounds of various sea regions, the regulations for sailing were vastly different across the board. This truly proved the saying: the seven of us came from all corners of the country, brought together for a single common goal. For this purpose, we had to compromise with each other; otherwise, placing all the local customs and taboos from the four directions onto one boat would completely paralyze this operation with restrictions.

But some things you just have to believe in, or you risk bad luck; some taboos have existed on ships for so many years that they must have a reason and value; we couldn't be entirely dismissive of everything either. In the end, after negotiation, we could only each concede a step: agreeing not to utter unlucky words like fan (capsize), dao (overturn), or kou (invert), and revering the Dragon Lord. We would worship Mazu as our deity, and as for the rest of the taboos, we would avoid them if possible. Even this felt strenuous, especially since we were used to using the term dao dou (tomb raiding), but at sea, we could only use the professional jargon of Banshan Tianhai (Moving Mountains and Filling Seas).

On Inley Yang’s suggestion, I had Ruan Hei act as the ship boss, with him and Uncle Ming taking turns at the helm for this leg of the journey before we neared the Coral Spiral area. We would adopt a traditional yet reliable navigation method, utilizing archaic tools like sea charts, compasses, sextants, and speed indicators, while deliberately avoiding modern electronic equipment that is easily interfered with. Both Uncle Ming and Ruan Hei could deduce the general route based on the flow of the ocean currents. Experienced sea wolves all knew that ocean currents, due to differing topography, naturally divided into several streams; the creatures of the deep also occupied the environments to which they were adapted, using depth and flow direction as boundaries that they rarely crossed. By tossing a marker buoy, one could observe the direction of the current. The difficulty was not significant, and the sea weather was ideal—no alarming wind or waves. The first few days of navigation should be worry-free. Once the compass started malfunctioning and we lost sight of the sun, moon, and stars, that would be the time for Inley Yang’s Banshan Tianhai techniques to come into play.

Everyone on board had experience at sea and had witnessed plenty of fierce storms. Even when the waves were tumultuous and the vessel pitched violently, no one showed signs of seasickness or vomiting. It was just that the ocean was vast and endless; once we entered the deep sea, we were surrounded by infinite, deep blue water. Even a seabird was a rare sight. Although this Hainiu boat, the Trident, was not large, it was divided into three decks, and the middle deck below the main deck was divided into five cabins: forward, midship, and aft. The aft cabin was the largest, packed with crates upon crates of various supplies and fresh water. The midship and forward cabins were each divided into left and right sections. The largest compartment, the midship one, was used as the dining hall. Usually, apart from getting fresh air on the deck, everyone spent most of their time there. The Jinpilu water-god cannons were also mounted in this cabin on both sides. These old-fashioned ship cannons were not for fighting pirates but for firing blasts to repel large fish that suddenly surfaced, preventing a vessel from being overturned by a monstrous sea creature. Interconnecting all the cabins were Qianli Er speaking tubes—copper pipes that allowed for rapid verbal communication. The rest of the ship was filled with nothing but fuel and provisions, leaving little space. Spending too much time in the narrow decks and cabins inevitably led to boredom and tedium.

The only solution was drinking. Few sea wolves who ran boats didn't enjoy liquor. Uncle Ming rarely drank, but whenever he was at the helm, he invariably had a bottle of baijiu. This was a habit developed over many years, and once he started drinking, he got high quickly, becoming talkative—like a different person. He would philosophize grandly about the gains and losses, successes and failures of the world, discoursing from the heavens down to the seabed. But every time he reached the end, he would boast about how many times he had cheated death in heavy storms while operating in the South Seas in his younger days, claiming he was an "Old Sea Wolf" who couldn't be killed and wouldn't accept defeat.

That day, I was too impatient to listen to Uncle Ming’s bragging anymore, yet I didn't want to retreat to the cabin to sulk or sleep. Seeing Fatty at the bow, intensely focused through his binoculars toward where the sky met the sea, I thought there might be some spectacle to watch. I walked over and asked him if he had spotted anything new, but Fatty was too mesmerized to answer. I raised my own binoculars and looked in the direction he was gazing. I wanted to see if there were any seductive mermaids bathing in the sea!

I adjusted the focus on the binoculars. The view in the lens gradually shifted from blurry to clear. In the far distance, the sea surface was churning, and massive cetaceans were surfacing in groups. They were widely spaced, each revealing only its back, resembling black reefs in the ocean. I had previously heard fishermen talk about fish in the deep sea being no less than a hundred meters long, and large coral trees towering over tens of meters, but that was hearsay. This was the first time we had witnessed the rare spectacle of whales surfacing, and we couldn't help but stare in awe.

For one thing, that school of fish, huge as small mountains, was far from us; for another, the Trident was not only fast but also equipped with the water-god cannons that terrified leviathans, so we had no reason to fear being capsized by massive waves. Not long after, the exposed backs of the fish sank beneath the waves and disappeared.

The waters we were navigating now were a vibrant blue, said to hide an unfathomably deep oceanic rift, and we were nearing the Coral Spiral. One end of this great trench was the remnant of the "Southern Dragon" entering the sea, as described in the Sixteen-Character Secret Art of Yin-Yang. This trench was where the sea's qi generated. How deep it truly was, current science could not ascertain; current detection capabilities only reached a few thousand meters. Some speculate its deepest point might not be less than ten thousand meters, though this remains unverified. Nevertheless, it is internationally recognized as one of the "Abyssal Deeps," where inexplicable and mysterious phenomena frequently occur. The aquatic life inhabiting this abyssal floor—the bizarre shapes, the immense sizes—would be unimaginable without seeing them firsthand. The truly ferocious sea monsters lurked thousands of meters below the surface, occasionally surfacing to hunt, but only for very brief periods before immediately diving back down, lest they be attacked by the predatory fish nearer to the surface.