The sky wept torrential rain, and the sea churned with towering waves, the "Trident" tossed precariously amidst the gale and surge, constantly threatened with capsizing and being swallowed by the depths. Uncle Ming clutched his life preserver and shouted, "Mazu, quickly show your divine power!" Over at the helm, Captain Ruan Hei joined him, chanting the "Sea and Heaven Sagely Mantra," imploring Mazu to appear and guide them to safety. Though Ruan Hei’s appearance was rugged, his beard a thicket of prickly spines, the sea wolves, no matter how brave they faced the tempest, were exceptionally superstitious when it came to navigation, harboring infinite reverence for unseen powers—perhaps this was the spiritual anchor that allowed them to carve out a living on the ocean.

Seeing the wind shrieking and the waves raging, with their vessel near collapse, I wondered how much longer they could hold on. I too was forced to pray for Mazu’s manifestation to calm the waters quickly. However, I deeply resented this sudden piety—this act of "throwing open the temple doors only when the incense runs out, promising pigs and sheep only when disaster strikes." It seemed far better to rely on one’s own ingenuity to devise a practical solution than to beg every god in the heavens.

The famous adage "Rely on solutions" referred to the Household Responsibility System implemented after the Reform and Opening Up. When policies were delegated to individual households, farmers found renewed vigor in production; the bolder one’s ambition, the greater the yield. If one sought new ideas, embraced change, and pressed forward, greater rewards could be reaped; one could not stagnate, resting on past accomplishments. This slogan was later adopted by many private entrepreneurs who ventured into business as a form of self-encouragement. But in our current predicament, with the ship losing control amidst the raging torrents, what solutions could we possibly conjure beyond leaving it to fate?

Just then, Shirley Yang squeezed over and asked what we should do now. A rogue wave crashed over the gunwale, drenching everyone in the cockpit with salty brine. I wiped the water from my face and told Shirley Yang, "I hadn't expected the wind and waves stirred up by this 'Dragon Rising from the Water' to have such ferocity. The old Mojin methods from the mountains are useless here. We can’t use the new methods of the sea wolves and Danmin. The soft approach of praying to the gods has failed. And the military’s hard-charging strategy is out of the question. I am completely out of ideas. Wait... is there any countermeasure in the ‘Shifting Mountains and Filling Seas’ technique?"

Shirley Yang replied, "The ‘Shifting Mountains and Filling Seas’ can’t summon wind or rain, so how could it calm the waves? I think this squall brought on by the rising dragon was sudden, so its departure will likely be swift too. All we can do now is maintain control of the ‘Trident’ as best we can, buy time, and hold out until the offshore storm passes."

It sounds easy, but it is hard to do. The Hailiu vessel pitched and rolled violently in the towering seas, constantly being thrust to the crests and troughs of the waves; every second was fraught with peril. The sky was choked with dark, ominous clouds; though it was daytime, it felt like night. Lightning flashed and thunder roared within the cloud cover, and the violently agitated water refused to settle. Fortunately, Ruan Hei and Uncle Ming possessed seasoned navigational skills. Fighting for their lives, they exerted every ounce of their effort. The rest of us assisted with all our might, allowing the "Trident" to narrowly escape disaster at critical junctures.

This Hailiu ship, modified by the British, proved truly robust. It withstood the test of this storm. Whether the ship was a seafaring treasure or Mazu truly possessed divine spirit, this vessel cut through the wind and waves with its hull remaining intact. Finally, a sliver of sunlight pierced the veil of clouds, and the tempest gradually subsided, the turbulent surface slowly returning to calm. Though the ship was fine, the people aboard were utterly spent. Their entire skeletal structure felt rattled apart; everyone was exhausted.

Seeing the storm finally pass, Uncle Ming was so overcome that he immediately dropped to his knees on the deck to kowtow to Mazu and make grand vows. Captain Ruan Hei, as if by magic, produced an incense burner and yellow paper from below deck, intending to offer a sacrifice to Mazu. I wouldn't unduly interfere with their personal beliefs. Meanwhile, Fatty, having consumed too much baijiu, lay sprawled in the cockpit, in a drunken stupor amidst his own vomit. Gu Cai and Duo Ling were struggling to drag the inebriated Fatty into the inner cabin to prevent him from blocking the doorway.

I walked to the bow and gazed at the piercing sunlight breaking through the clouds, letting out a long sigh of relief. With this storm gone, there wouldn't be such a massive convergence of sea energy for several days. This was the opportune moment to utilize the tides to enter the Coral Spiral, to search for sunken ships and Yin Fire near the sea eye known as the "Guixu." Of course, I also needed to play the role of a Danmin and harvest 'South Pearls.' Although the tasks were numerous, we should have enough time. However, having been blown off course during the storm meant we would arrive at the Great Coral Reef a full day later than anticipated.

Thinking this, I prepared to find Shirley Yang to discuss how to navigate the ship through the dense cluster of hidden reefs surrounding the "Coral Spiral" using the mixed tides. Just as I was heading to the helm to find her, I sensed that certain patches of the sea looked abnormal. Taking a closer look, the sight was astonishing: the water had turned black. The sea energy had swept up material from the deep troughs onto the surface, forming a vast expanse of black tide, and our vessel was sailing directly over this ink-dark water.

The others also noticed the phenomenon, observing the water as black as ink while debating various theories. Shirley Yang suggested that many dead fish were floating on the surface. Since the South China Sea continental shelf descends in steps, this particular area was situated above a deep-sea abyss, and the underlying strata might contain vast quantities of coal, oil, and gas, which had been brought to the surface by the water, sickening the deep-sea fish.

Ruan Hei sided with the Vietnamese fishermen, claiming that some deep-sea currents were naturally dark; the deepest waters boiled and surged, differing greatly from other seawater, keeping even deep-sea organisms away. The water there was a hundred times hotter than a hot spring, perhaps this black tide was merely an upwelling of a subterranean black spring.

Uncle Ming insisted it must be the rising water dragon flushing out a giant squid hidden in the trench. That squid, an octopus, could have tentacles stretching a hundred zhang long—immense. Such a creature, full of black ink, would empty its entire sac upon death, turning the sea black. If they could retrieve the carcass, they could contact foreign buyers; if it was intact enough, it could fetch a massive price, perhaps comparable to the Loulan mummy.

I remarked to Uncle Ming, "So, you don't just trade in dried corpses, but also in preserved dead fish specimens?" Amidst the babble of opinions, everyone proposed possibilities for the black tide's origin. Yet, in the end, there was no consensus on how the black water formed; they only knew it welled up from the seabed. But seeing the throngs of dead fish swirling in the inky water, stark white against the darkness—countless them—unnerved everyone. If not for the ingenious structure and sturdiness of the Trident, perhaps we would now be among those dead fish.