My heart turned cold with dread, a bitter lament rising within me, utterly uncertain of the odds. Then, a blur before my eyes—I saw the ship's lights flickering amidst the dense sea fog from the masthead, and there was irley Yang directing Ruan Hei to pilot the Trident through the waves toward me. I was overjoyed beyond measure. Whether they had tracked the sound or followed the sharks circling the three-masted ship back from the open sea, the mere fact that they had arrived in time was enough to send thanks to heaven, earth, and the sea goddess Mazu.

The ancient three-masted vessel listed violently, its mainmast leaning dangerously toward the water. Because the Trident had appeared only when it was quite near in the fog, it seemed we were about to pass each other again in the mist. Realizing it was too late to climb down from the mast, I gauged the distance between the two ships and resolved on a desperate leap of faith. Timing the ship's sway as it tilted toward the Trident, I jumped from the mast without hesitation, angling my body down, skimming over the churning, shark-infested water, and aiming straight for the rubber life raft tethered to the Trident's side.

But the ship rose and fell with the swell, offering no fixed target; the precise timing and distance shifted in an instant. I missed landing directly on the life raft by barely half a pace and plummeted straight toward the sea. Amidst the gasps of Fatty and the others, I lunged desperately forward with my hands, finally grasping the rope fixed to the bottom of the life raft. My body swung suspended in mid-air, my feet already brushing the surface of the water.

The rope burned my hands with a searing pain, but I knew with absolute clarity that I could not let go even if my hands shattered; letting go meant becoming shark bait. I strained my waist, attempting to haul myself up onto the boat, when I suddenly felt something collide sharply against the sole of my foot. It turned out that with so many large sharks surrounding the three-masted ship, I had actually stepped on one. I couldn't tell where I had made contact, but I felt the raw, bloodthirsty wildness and the vibrant, surging power emanating from the shark with vivid clarity.

I was so startled that the hairs on my scalp prickled as if an electric current had shot through me. Ignoring the shark beneath me, I clawed frantically upwards toward the boat. But the more anxious I became, the weaker my footing felt. Just then, Fatty and the others above caught me with a grappling hook. With a hard upward yank, I finally managed to clamber onto the rubber life raft.

irley Yang reached out and pulled me aboard. "Old Hu, you’re a real daredevil. Jumping from that high—are you tired of living?" Still shaken, the lingering terror made me afraid to reflect, and I realized my entire body was soaked—I couldn't tell if it was cold sweat or seawater. Still, maintaining my composure, I tried to gather my wits and offer some suitably dramatic words to cover the situation.

At that moment, Uncle Ming scrambled up onto the deck from the cabin. He seemed only partially sober, perhaps still shaking off the effects of the alcohol, but when he looked up and saw the white, ghostly silhouette of the three-masted ship slowly drifting backward nearby, his face instantly drained of color. It was as if he had seen a ghoul. He dismissed any unnecessary words, shouting only to the crew, "That’s a marked blood ship! Hurry… hurry and raise the Zhenhai Cannon. Prepare the ammunition."

Hearing Uncle Ming suddenly say that, I figured he knew the true nature of the three-masted ship. Given the urgency, there was no time for lengthy explanations, so I immediately directed everyone to swiftly deploy the Jinpilu Water God Cannon and prepare to fire on the "Ghost Ship." The operation unfolded with remarkable speed. Although the deck was cramped, everyone was fully prepared; despite the emergency, there was order, because we all knew that attempting to enter the Coral Spiral as a disorganized rabble was unthinkable. When we were not engaged in high-seas duties, irley Yang had drilled Fatty, Gu Cai, and Duo Ling and myself under naval standards, imposing a quasi-military structure. Life at sea is vastly different from land; individual skill is insufficient to contend with monstrous waves. The entire crew had to function as one well-drilled unit; only through unified coordination could we possibly navigate accidents or danger. With only seven people aboard in total, every single person had to take on multiple essential roles; each was an indispensable source of strength.

Thus, at the command, and following the deployment practiced in numerous previous drills, everyone quickly moved to their assigned positions. Fatty and I were the first to the deck to adjust the cannon mount and aim at the target. Gu Cai and Duo Ling opened the ammunition crates and began ferrying shells, while irley Yang, using the ship's spyglass, directed Ruan Hei to adjust the heading, clearing a firing angle for the muzzle.

Within seconds, the Water God Cannon aboard the Trident was ready for attack. The sea fog was thick, and the two ships were passing each other for the third time. The blood-soaked three-masted vessel was gradually disappearing from our sight. irley Yang continuously called out bearing, angle, and speed. Though Ruan Hei, the captain, feared the ghost ship, the matter of life and death spurred him on; summoning his courage, he spun the vessel around and increased speed, maneuvering to approach the three-masted ship from its rear quarter.

Uncle Ming was gesticulating from inside the cabin, directing operations. Fatty and I stood ready to fire, everyone panting, waiting for the Trident to reach the optimal shooting position. During this brief lull, I asked Uncle Ming, "That three-masted ship has its doors papered over, and it’s covered in blood—what exactly is it?"

Uncle Ming wiped the sweat from his brow and spat, "Damn it all, thank the heavens I spotted it in time. That’s a marked blood ship. If we don't blast it to the bottom of the sea with the Zhenhai Cannon, we could run into serious trouble."

It turned out that along the coast of Nanyang, there was a rare custom akin to sending plague ships out to sea, known as "Marking the Stake" (Da Biao). The difference was that these ships carried not the dead, but immense sea beasts. In the Nanyang seas, there lived a colossal creature closely resembling a Yuan (a giant soft-shelled turtle), colloquially named the "Great Sand-Drowner" (Da Yong Sha). There are no living Yuan in those seas; the Da Yong Sha is the fishermen's common name for this creature, which looks like a Yuan but is not one. It has fins but no feet, a head but no feet, a greenish-black back, and a large white stripe on its belly. It usually resides in shallow waters, burying itself in the sand, often secretly causing havoc and sinking passing fishing boats. The fishermen hate it intensely. Occasionally, one becomes stranded ashore, unable to return to the water. Fishermen who find one immediately notify others to chain it up and capture it alive. Whenever such a creature is caught, and if it coincides with a time for sea dragon sacrifices, they repair an ancient, long-neglected fishing boat, bleed the Da Yong Sha, and load it into the hull. Then, they wrap the old hull with paper seals and fishing nets, tow the vessel into the deep ocean, and let it drift away with the currents.

The South China Sea is known for its turbulent waves and constant high winds. Most of these hastily constructed boats are not sturdy. Once on the vast, deep ocean, they seldom last long before being smashed apart by the storms. The Da Yong Sha perishes with the sinking ship, and the creatures of the deep—fish, dragons, and salamanders—are particularly fond of its flesh. They swarm into the broken hull, tearing the Da Yong Sha until only an empty shell remains. The fishermen believe that there are "Dragons" beneath the sea, viewing them as sea deities. This custom is a form of sacrifice to these deities, intended to ensure calm waters and safe passage.