The moment we entered the water, Shirley Yang paused briefly beside the wreck, reaching out, pressing her palm down, and making a gentle horizontal sweep forward. I understood her signal. Supporting her shoulder, I fired the beam of "Poseidon's Flash" toward the pitch-black depths beyond her, illuminating the abyssal floor. Where the light touched, we saw vast flagstones and colossal, fallen masonry—ruins lining the bottom. A considerable portion of these structures appeared not to have been drawn in by the maelstrom, but rather, they had originally been built within this Xu-Void sea cavern. Centuries of seawater and debris swept in from the cavern had smashed them into unrecognizable heaps.

I surmised these ancient stone edifices were perhaps constructed for mining the Yin-Fire ore found within the Xu-Void. Mixed among these ruins were the remains of countless shipwrecks. Some large vessels lay submerged, thoroughly rusted, while others were encrusted with legions of pale, dead coral polyps and the dead shells of barnacles. If the first wreck we encountered was a maritime tomb, then the broken columns and slabs served as their silent headstones.

Interspersed were many snapped, massive coral trees. In this underwater graveyard of piled stone, derelict ships, and coral branches, countless strange and exotic fish darted through the gloom. Giant crabs and crayfish peeked out from the crevices of the reef. We carried shark repellent formulated from a secret recipe passed down by the Mountain Movers, so the vicious sharks were not our primary concern. However, according to Uncle Ming, the most ferocious denizens of the deep were led by the Deep Spider Crabs; even the leviathans of the sea were considered inferior. The ferocity of these crabs was unmatched by any water creatures—serpents, eels, or even monstrous fish. The giant crabs and crayfish of the deep were as large as carts or small boats. Even the sea serpents and pythons, often considered the dragons' emissaries, could not guarantee their survival if caught in those massive pincers, and the deep-sea giants could sever a small submersible in half with a single snap.

I swept the area twice with the searchlight. I spotted no massive crabs matching Uncle Ming's description, cursing the old rogue for always exaggerating. Once everyone had oriented themselves to the terrain, we exchanged hand signals and continued our descent. The Mary Celeste lay canted across a heap of ruins, its stern wedged into the hull of an ancient wooden vessel. Following the ship’s schematics, our original plan was to dive straight to the lower cargo hold near the stern to find the Qin Emperor’s Bone-Illuminating Mirror.

But as we neared the center of the wreck, the surrounding current intensified. My body was involuntarily pulled downward. That ancient wooden boat was a large-bellied freighter. When it sank, it must have settled directly over a sub-surface vortex opening. The wood used for the freighter was of superior quality, still largely intact after so many years underwater, yet it was nearly crushed by the heavy cruise liner resting atop it. The undertow below was ferocious, the water swirling into black funnels that were nearly impossible to resist. We quickly grabbed the iron railings along the Mary Celeste's side just to stabilize ourselves.

Shirley Yang signaled me to check the pressure gauge; it read a depth of 7.5 meters. She turned back and made a gesture indicating "fifteen," suggesting that anything below fifteen meters would be unsafe. Thus, the diving team’s operational range had to be strictly limited to within fifteen meters of the surface. We aborted the plan to reach the stern cargo hold directly and adjusted our strategy on the fly: we would enter the main cabin through the central section of the hull.

We pulled ourselves along the railings, descending to over ten meters, when we finally found an accessible point on the wreck suitable for divers. A hatch on the ship's side stood ajar, filled with black water, but a large shelf of Lingzhi coral was jammed into the opening. This coral, a type of sea anemone, is structurally similar to the more common Peony, Staghorn, or Rose corals, possessing great hardness. However, such an obstacle could not withstand the underwater demolition tool—the Adamantine chain saw. I beckoned Fatty to move to the front of the diving group, readying his tool to sever the Lingzhi coral blocking the hatch. The rest of us lined up shoulder-to-shoulder behind him, remaining vigilant for any aggressive marine life.

Thanks to our thorough preparations, the breach was successful in moments. The corridors inside the cruise liner were not overly narrow, but with the ship listing, the interior walls and floors were inverted and askew. This drastic shift in reference points created a dizzying, disorienting illusion, making the space feel unnervingly cramped and oppressive.

Once inside the wreck, we avoided the interference of the exterior currents, but the chaotic spatial arrangement inside presented significant difficulty in locating our objective. We were forced to halt repeatedly within the ship, cross-referencing the structural blueprints to determine our direction. Certain areas of the wreck were severely compressed by impact, twisting the internal metal framework. Furthermore, debris floating within the ship greatly obstructed visibility.

The sunken cruise liner, the Mary Celeste, exuded an atmosphere of death and gloom. The few peculiar-looking fish that swam in and out seemed utterly indifferent, showing no fear of the divers. As I maneuvered through the internal passages, I wondered if any crew members had been unable to escape—had they abandoned ship, or were they buried here? After all this time, we hadn’t seen a single corpse; perhaps the initial flood had swept all the bodies away.

With Shirley Yang leading, I didn't need to worry, simply following the diving team as we snaked and twisted through several decks toward the cargo hold. Suddenly, Fatty tapped my shoulder from behind. Assuming an immediate threat, I hastily grabbed Shirley Yang ahead, and the diving team froze instantly.

Since there was absolutely no ambient light inside the wreck, we could no longer rely solely on the single high-powered searchlight. Everyone switched on their personal dive torches and the lamps clipped to their gear. The four of us pressed against the metal bulkhead, stopping side-by-side. I turned to look at Fatty, who pointed toward a hatchway on the side of the corridor. The hatch was half-open, and protruding from the gap was a human arm—little more than bone remained, with a few small fish circling nearby, nibbling at the last scraps of flesh clinging to the wrist bone.

A dead man's arm alone wouldn't have caught Fatty's eye. But around that bleached wrist bone was a dazzling gold watch, its face inlaid with numerous diamonds that still glittered strikingly in the murky water. This was likely a fine Swiss timepiece; back then, we only knew that Swiss watches were valuable. Judging by the materials alone—if it was truly gold and diamond-encrusted—it was certainly worth a considerable sum, far too expensive for an ordinary crew member. I figured this arm belonged either to the captain or some wealthy magnate aboard.

I thought this diamond-studded gold watch qualified as qing tou loot. Since we were now danmin—shell collectors—our business, besides gathering eggs, was scavenging for qing tou and fishing. We couldn't neglect our primary duties. If we found qing tou in a shipwreck, how could we possibly ignore it? Wastefulness is a grave crime, and naturally, we could not knowingly commit such an offense.