I gazed out at the distant ocean, watching the whales and leviathans rise and fall, which brought a sudden surge of relief to my chest. Yet, just as quickly, the familiar sense of life being but a fleeting journey between the vast emptiness of heaven and earth—“Ren sheng tian di jian, hu ru yuan xing ke”—returned, casting a shadow of worry over my uncertain future. I turned to Fatty and said, “The ancestor of the Grave Robbers, Old Cao, once journeyed east to the edge of the sea to behold the ocean. We, the contemporary Grave Robbers, have a lingering verse from that same eastern journey. It truly feels like millennia have passed, and the world has turned upside down. But look at this boundless, endless sea—our vessel is utterly insignificant on these waves, whose depths are immeasurable. Finding the remnants of the Southern Dragon’s pulse and the location of the Yin Fire beneath the ocean will not be easy. We must be prepared for any sudden contingency.”

Fatty waved his hand dismissively. “What’s there to worry about? To be honest, I’m already impatient to start digging up eggs. Back in the desert, back in Yunnan, how many times did we brush past priceless Ming artifacts, always using picking up sesame seeds as an excuse, completely wasting watermelons? Waste and corruption are grave crimes! I’m too straightforward; the only things that hurt me as much as cutting flesh are parting with money. From now on, we can’t knowingly repeat that mistake. This time, no matter what, we have to score big. I’ve already prepared myself to overcome any obstacle for this. Whether it’s climbing to the heavens to pluck the moon or diving into the five oceans to catch a turtle, we’re all in.”

I agreed, “Exactly. The Grave Robbers’ Declaration says it best: either we don’t rob, or once we start, we see it through to the end. Being qualified ‘egg people’ is our inescapable duty. Though the burden on our shoulders is heavy, those with ambition must shoulder great responsibilities with iron resolve, giving our all and spilling the last drop of blood for this great cause. Even if we are smashed to pieces, our crimson hearts will never fade. We swear not to stop until we reach our goal… But what did you just say about climbing to the heavens to pluck the moon? Why aren’t you afraid of heights anymore?”

Fatty replied, “For the sake of digging up eggs, falling and being splattered into a meat patty would be glorious! Then I’d truly become one with the earth. Besides, this time we are only going down to the sea, not up to the sky—what fear does this commander have? Yang Shen said we aren’t dropping from a great height onto the water either. That would be about the same as hitting concrete pavement. Is that true?”

Fatty and I were walking from the bow to the stern, passing the time with idle chatter, when we watched the blood-red sun slowly sink behind the stern, casting myriad rays of sunset light that made the sea look like dancing crimson snakes. Suddenly, the skinny, monkey-like youth, Gu Cai, ran up to the aft deck, pointing toward the bow, signaling us to hurry over—something was happening.

Gu Cai, who sported a bowl cut that looked as bad as a haircut could possibly look, was young but possessed a peculiar constitution. He was born with a pair of fish eyes, inherently a sea spirit. When diving for eggs, he could hold his breath for a very long time, making even me look at him with new respect. He had picked up some Chinese from Ruan Hei, allowing us to have simple exchanges.

Seeing him rushing toward me, I knew there must be trouble at the bow. Without time to ask questions, I quickly followed Fatty to the front, only to discover that the sea to the east—the direction our bow was heading—was beginning to fog over. If the ship proceeded further, it would enter the mist, and visibility was dropping rapidly.

The fog was strange. It hung about ten meters high, pressing down densely over the ocean surface. From our vantage point, the sea fog and the sky were clearly separated. Moreover, from within the rising sea mist, an unusual surge of air gave birth to five plumes of black smoke shooting straight into the sky. This scene was like a giant black claw drilling out of the fog, a monstrous hand with five fingers pointing skyward, looking terrifying. At this moment, the wind and waves on the sea had calmed to an uncanny stillness, just as the sunset was about to vanish with its last lingering glow.

I sought the opinion of Uncle Ming. Having seen his share of storms, and being a bit drunk at the time, he didn't pay much mind to the situation. He said, “What’s the fuss? Sea radiation fog can reduce visibility to its absolute minimum. There was a collision of two ships in Fotangmen, resulting in over a dozen deaths, precisely because of this sudden sea fog. This expanse of sea is wide; there’s no need to worry. We’re still some distance from the Coral Spiral. Only when we reach that sea area will the seabed suddenly rise. So, we just need to sail slowly through the night, and by dawn, when the fog lifts, we’ll be at the outer perimeter of the Great Spiral.”

Hearing Uncle Ming’s black mouth declare there was no need for concern only made me more worried. I immediately used the ‘Thousand-Mile Ear Megaphone’ to call everyone else on the ship up to the deck. Sailing through sea fog at night requires absolute caution, and the sea surface, now that it was foggy, was unnervingly quiet—so quiet it was almost frightening, as if brewing some unknown, massive catastrophe.

Our salvage team dared not let down its guard. The Trident slowed to its minimum speed, proceeding cautiously. All searchlights were turned on. Though the ship lacked a mast, a conspicuous masthead light had been hung atop the cabin. Masthead lights were the old-style signal lamps used on ancient ships, offering some illumination. It was rumored that they could ward off ghosts during night voyages. Grave Robbers usually judged fortune by lights, and surprisingly, this practice was widely used in maritime affairs, though the principle differed. The masthead light was windproof and waterproof, unlikely to extinguish easily. Hung high up, combined with the specialized high-beam searchlights at the bow and sides, it would attract small schools of fish but keep deep-sea creatures away. Even without reefs, a sudden surge from a massive whale or leviathan capsizing the ship was no joke. If a shipwreck occurred here, those aboard would hardly escape; even if they weren't drowned, they would surely end up as fish fodder.

The Trident slowly entered the fog. The sea was so quiet that only the sound of the propeller churning water could be heard; it seemed even the seawater had stilled. All around was a vast expanse of white mist, making it impossible to distinguish east from west. Even with tens of meters of visibility in the fog, on the open sea, such a short range was almost equivalent to being completely blind.

Everyone proceeded with extreme caution, advancing nervously through the night mist. I wished the fog would dissipate quickly. However, the Sea Wolves, who frequently fished and sailed in these waters, had summarized a law of nature. Ruan Hei told me, “Captain Hu, dense fog signals an impending wind. Once this fog clears, the sea is likely to whip up large waves.”

Though Ruan Hei made a living fishing and diving for eggs on Coral Temple Island, rarely venturing far out to sea, so his maritime knowledge wasn't as encyclopedic as Uncle Ming's, his strength lay in his simple tenacity. His ancestors had worked in South Seas shipyards; his family belonged to the authentic working class, having lived in abject poverty for three generations. Compared to Uncle Ming, he was far more reliable.

I signaled Ruan Hei that I was aware of the potential weather, and seeing Uncle Ming was close to intoxication, I asked Ruan Hei to take the helm for him, then dragged Uncle Ming into the cabin. I walked back to the bow and asked inley, who was controlling the searchlights, “If the winds get high and waves rough after the fog lifts, can we punch through the outer spiral of the Coral Spiral before that happens?”

Inley Yang replied, “It would be risky, but feasible. However, if the timing is off, we’ll be in trouble. Who knows when this dense fog will clear? At our current speed, we might not even reach the Coral Spiral by noon tomorrow. For now, we can only play it by ear.”

Because the inland waters of the South China Sea are perpetually turbulent, the ancients also called it the ‘Rising Sea.’ In Feng Shui, this signifies the overly vigorous, surging maritime energy of the South Sea. Once the wind and waves pick up, the situation will be no small matter. As I was discussing emergency protocols with inley Yang, Fatty suddenly shouted, “Old Hu, Old Hu, look over there… There’s something in the fog!”

We immediately stopped talking and strained our eyes to look into the deep gloom of the night mist. Indeed, on the misty sea surface, a single, solitary, bright yellow masthead light had appeared. Because it emerged suddenly out of the fog, we were extremely close to it when we saw the light. Judging by the masthead light, it should be a sea vessel, but if it was a ship, why were there no other lights aboard?

Perhaps only a few seconds passed before—before I could doubt my own eyes—an ancient, entirely white-painted sea vessel materialized silently out of the mist. Apart from that single, brilliant masthead light, there was no other illumination aboard. There was no one visible on the bow, nor any sound from within the cabin; the doors and windows were tightly shut. Wen Xin Ge Sun Feng's manual labor.

Everyone, including the helmsman Ruan Hei, stared in stunned silence. The scene was utterly unbelievable, like a bizarre hallucination. In the lexicon of our Grave Robbing world, “unbelievable” is perhaps an overused adjective, but I still had to use it to describe this—it was truly unbelievable.

This sea area was a blind spot that no regular shipping routes would pass through for no reason. On the vast ocean, who else could there be besides us? To run into another ship head-on in the sea fog across such a wide expanse is more coincidental than a thumb-sized meteorite falling from the sky and hitting your head—unless it was an uninvited “ghost ship.”

Fortunately, inley Yang was the first to react. He turned and yelled at Ruan Hei, “Quickly turn the helm right to avoid it!” That ancient vessel, which had suddenly appeared from the fog, was drifting diagonally across the current directly toward our ship. Ruan Hei snapped out of his daze at inley Yang’s warning and violently steered hard to starboard.

Although the Trident was not large, small ships handle well. Moreover, it had been expertly designed and refitted by British navigation experts, making its structure nearly perfect and highly maneuverable. The bow quickly swung away, narrowly missing the prow of the white phantom ship. The two vessels scraped past each other diagonally, almost touching. Because the distance was so short, those of us standing at the bow saw very clearly: there were large patches of blood smeared across the deck and doors of the ancient ship.

After several days of calm seas, the deep-sea energy had gradually accumulated. Before the sea could churn up waves, a sea fog appeared. Coupled with the fact that it was already dark, visibility on the placid surface dropped to its lowest point. Out of the water shrouded by sea fog, an ancient, phantom-like ship suddenly emerged, brushing past our Trident. That three-masted vessel was entirely white. Although it had masts capable of setting sails, the sails had been removed. It drifted with the current, showing no lights inside during its night voyage, save for a single masthead lamp hung from its three bare masts, appearing like a will-o'-the-wisp in the night fog.