It was already too late to abandon ship and flee, and once the inflatable life raft was deployed, its low weight would instantly be swept away by the surrounding sea. Amidst the deafening roar from beneath the seabed, the Sea Willow quickly sailed toward the edge of the whirlpool. Caught by the current, the bow slewed sideways, and the ship swayed precariously within the eddy around the sea cavern.

Shirley Yang and Uncle Ming strained with all their might to hold onto the out-of-control Trident. They decisively jettisoned some ballast to reduce speed, preventing a too-rapid plunge into the cavern. Taking advantage of the rising and falling waves to push the hull laterally, they immediately engaged full throttle. Through this sequence of braking and surging, they finally managed to stabilize the wildly fluctuating helm, regaining control of the vessel in the final moments.

But within the cataclysmic power of the sea cavern, the Trident was like a dry leaf caught in a tempest. Once sucked into the swirling water, there was no hope of escape. Seeing that the situation was hopeless, Uncle Ming collapsed onto the deck, clutching the helm. Shirley Yang instructed me to drag Uncle Ming away. She took the helm herself, steering the Sea Willow through the raging waves. After several lurches and recoveries, she gradually managed to draw the ship farther and farther away from the center of the cavern.

Fatty and the others saw signs that the Trident might escape the danger, and our spirits lifted. However, on the violently rocking deck, I noticed that the water surrounding the sea cavern was impossibly black. Within that dark expanse, a white streak—the giant sea serpent—flickered amongst the waves. Relying on its boundless strength in the water, it clearly mistook the Sea Willow for a large, edible sea beast like a whale or a leviathan, pursuing us relentlessly.

I inwardly cursed; it seemed the secret treasures beneath the South Sea were not something one could simply collect. It proved the adage, "One should fear water more than mountains." In the lore of Qing Shu Feng Shui, the static nature of mountains versus the dynamic nature of water follows the principle: "Heaven and Earth possess true temperaments, and the cosmos has great conjunctions." Mountains and earth, like humans, possess life and spirit; even solid, static rock has vitality, let alone this surging, turbulent ocean. The pearl within the Coral Spiral, born of the concentrated essence of the Southern Dragon, was a divine object of creation. Now that we, mere laborers collecting eggs, had seized it, the balance of the sea's qi was disrupted, igniting the ghostly flames that burned the sea. It seemed the monstrous sea beast, startled by this spectral fire, had abandoned its underwater domain and was now desperately chasing the egg-collecting vessel. The root of this disaster, traced back, was likely the act of collecting the eggs itself.

I knew there was no buying an antidote for regret, and this was hardly the time to ponder the cause of the abnormal sea conditions. Furthermore, squandering and wasting was a grave crime; anything that came into Old Hu's hands had no business being thrown back. If we were to escape now, the utmost priority was ensuring Shirley Yang could safely pilot the ship out of the suction range of the sea cavern. This was the critical moment of a life-or-death struggle. The Trident was pinned at the edge of the cavern, struggling hopelessly, finding it impossible to break free from the surface.

The force of the current was like ten thousand charging horses, and the ship was trapped, spinning within the vortex swirling around the outer perimeter of the sea cavern. Although extrication was desperately difficult, maintaining the current state—preventing the hull from drifting closer to the cavern's center, buying as much time as possible, and holding out until the sea cavern stabilized and vanished—seemed to be the only viable option left.

However, to stall at the edge of the cavern, we could not allow the giant sea serpent to approach our vessel. A collision, even if the hull held, would instantly cause us to lose balance and pitch into the abyss of the cavern. I urgently signaled Fatty to prepare the Jinpilu Water God Cannons below deck, intending to use the cluster bombs loaded with Boluo Algae to blast the serpent back to the seabed, or simply kill it with steel-core rounds. Fatty, already fuming over the possibility of losing the Southern Pearls he had in hand, had muscles twitching uncontrollably, his eyes bloodshot. Seeing that the sea-shaking cannons were needed, he dragged Uncle Ming over to assist. But Uncle Ming’s soul was already shattered; Fatty’s slaps elicited no reaction whatsoever. Ruan Hei, the egg-gatherer, and his female apprentice Duoling had just narrowly escaped death and might be injured. Goldfish-eyes Gu Cai was inside tending to them, leaving no spare manpower for the gunnery. Fatty had no choice but to head below to ask Gu Cai for help moving ammunition.

It was the middle of the night. The full moon hung overhead, casting silver light across the water. We had never seen a moon so large and round in our lives. We shared a sudden, strange illusion, wondering if the immense suction of the "sea cavern" was actually pulling the moonlight down from the sky. The ocean conditions were exactly as Uncle Ming had predicted: not a breath of sea wind, yet the waters around the cavern churned with terrifying, massive surges. On this indescribably bizarre sea surface, we desperately tried to pilot the Trident away from the cavern’s enormous vortex while simultaneously firing repeatedly to repel the sea serpent chasing us.

With the dark, roaring cavern as the center, the seawater spun and churned. The Sea Willow and the monstrous beast circled each other like objects on a turntable. The ship pitched and rolled violently, making it difficult to stand steady even below deck. As the sea serpent surged forward, closing the distance, the sea-shaking cannons failed to find their mark. The fired projectiles streaked away, trailing sparks, tracing useless parabolas into the sea.

With a surge of black water, the serpent finally caught up to our Trident within the rolling, turbulent vortex. Its head, shaped like a bull's, emerged on the port side, bringing with it icy seawater as it lunged down onto the hull from mid-air. I saw it clearly and knew disaster was imminent. I screamed hoarsely into the internal communicator, ordering Fatty and Gu Cai to fire immediately. But amidst the thunderous roar of the sea surges, even I couldn't hear my own voice; it felt as though I had screamed for a long time, yet nothing had escaped my throat.

Suddenly, a puff of smoke jetted from the ship's side. An armor-piercing round shot like a fireball toward the serpent's body protruding from the waves. This shot was close; Shirley Yang and I held our breath, praying for a direct hit. But the projectile acted like a meteor chasing the moon, piercing the water curtain through a gap in the serpent's massive body. Missing by a meter or two, it veered off target.

Seeing such a golden opportunity wasted, I stamped my feet in frustration. Although the cannonball missed, the near-pass startled the sea serpent; it turned and plunged back into the sea. A white shadow flickered in the waves, instantly circling to the bow, moving into the dead zone of our gunfire.

I thought we were finished this time. Escaping the cavern only to be smashed apart by the sea beast and drown—it seemed the saying "a grave robber learning the ways of egg collectors" was true; forcing a Mojin Xiaowei to learn the dirty trade of collecting eggs was like forcing a duck to climb a tree. If the Goddess Mazu protected us now and we escaped, I vowed never again to engage in such unlicensed business. Because the hull kept spinning on the surface with the swirl around the cavern, everyone felt dizzy and nauseated, their stomachs churning. Even at this moment of life and death, my mind was chaotic, unable to stop the stream of unwanted thoughts.