By tradition, when a vessel is lost at sea and the order to abandon ship is given, only the captain retains the right to remain aboard; he possesses the prerogative to choose to perish with his vessel. All the ghost ship legends I’ve ever heard usually center on a captain who refuses to leave the ship he considered his life, whose spectral form lingers years later, piloting the phantom craft in endless loops across the ocean, the track on the sea charts marked by nothing but repeating circles. Rumor has it that the South China Sea Fleet once encountered such a peculiar ship, though this remains merely a story whispered among the troops, its truth uncertain. Thus, when I first glimpsed the reflection in the rippling water—the image of a bearded man wearing a gold watch—my mind instantly jumped to a conclusion, preconditioned by all the lore: “There is indeed the spirit of a captain from the wreck of the Mary Celeste.” He was the original owner whose arm had been gnawed away by fish, his gold watch already pilfered by Fatty.

The captain’s ghost seemed to drape across Gu Chai’s back, obscuring the Longhu tattoo there. This chilling tableau in the mirror was incredibly brief, vanishing in the blink of an eye; perhaps no one but I even noticed it. My heart gave a violent jolt, and I instinctively recoiled backward, disturbing the water around me. The ghostly image in the mirror blurred and distorted as the ripples spread.

The shark repellent must have been rapidly dissolved by the seawater, and the inexplicable shark attack we suffered inside the wreck were likely tied directly to the phantom of the Mary Celeste's captain. I tried to signal the others to the imminent danger, but before I could make another move, a slender Spinner Shark slipped under the desk we were using to plug a hull breach and darted straight for Shirley Yang. Though small, a bite from one of these underwater could disable anyone. Shirley Yang, busy bracing the wooden plank, had to dodge as the shark rushed close.

I watched the Spinner Shark pursue Shirley Yang relentlessly. In the cramped compartment, the four of us were nearly shoulder-to-shoulder; if you evaded the first snap, the second was unavoidable. I had no choice but to draw my dive knife, as did Fatty, and lunge at the shark as it flashed past us. But movement underwater is sluggish, and stabbing at the incredibly agile creature proved useless. The shark moved like lightning, darting cleanly beneath the two falling dive knives, seemingly seconds away from clamping down on Shirley Yang’s shoulder.

Shirley Yang retreated to a corner. The room was too tight to use a speargun, so he pulled his dive knife, gripping it in reverse, preparing for a desperate, head-on clash with the approaching shark. At this moment of extreme peril, Gu Chai lunged forward abruptly. Though the shark was fast, Long Hu’s underwater agility was greater. He thrust out the Dragon Arc short blade, designed for scraping clams and slaying dragons, intercepting the shark aimed at Shirley Yang. The bronze arc blade, etched with scales resembling fish and dragons, was called a short blade but was nearly the size of a standard filleting knife; including the hilt, it measured nearly half the length of a grown man’s arm. The blade head was wide and curved, exquisitely sharp. As the cold light of the steel flashed, it plunged directly into the shark’s flesh. Murky blood erupted immediately.

The Spinner Shark was fiendishly ferocious. Even though the blade nearly ran clean through it, it didn't die instantly. The strength in its death throes was immense; even if Fatty, I, and Gu Chai had all worked together, we couldn't have held the relatively small shark down underwater. Its body thrashed and twisted violently. Gu Chai was truly a brute of the deep sea—even now he refused to let go of the short blade. His body was swung through the water by the shark’s convulsions, and both man and beast slammed into the large mirror, shattering its surface into fragments. Gu Chai seized the opportunity, grabbing the dorsal fin, pulling out the Dragon Arc blade, and with a swift up-and-down motion, stabbed the shark several times near its gills. Gushes of blood flowed out. The vicious shark writhed a final few times and finally lost its vital, living energy, collapsing limply under the blade of Long Hu Gu Chai. I noted Gu Chai’s efficiency in dispatching the shark was absolute, a raw, innate talent unmatched by the average Dan Ren nowadays. You are vicious enough, I thought. Seeing the sharks gathering rapidly outside the wreck—a mere wooden plank wouldn't hold them for long—I decided we had to throw the dead Spinner Shark's corpse out to make them fight among themselves. It was clear we couldn't stay in the captain's quarters any longer; the longer we remained trapped here, the worse it would be for us. With our scuba tanks still holding sufficient air, we had to venture back into the wreck to find another exit. The mirror in the room was completely destroyed, so I stopped worrying about the captain’s spirit inhabiting the ship. However, the black seawater clinging to Gu Chai’s tattoo was clearly abnormal, and we needed to find a way to rid him of it quickly. I pointed toward the cabin door, and everyone understood the obstacle: a massive great shark patrolled the corridor outside. We didn't know if it was trapped in there or had deliberately slipped in to hunt, but its presence was an unavoidable barrier. Once the decision was made to force a path out, I grabbed a speargun from the floor and approached the door. Fatty, carrying the searchlight and the cutting torch, followed closely behind me, with Shirley Yang bringing up the rear, holding the other speargun. We Mojin Xiaowei possessed an innate synergy; without needing extensive communication, we adopted a formation that allowed for both advance and retreat, relying on each other for support. Only Gu Chai seemed lost, blinking foolishly, unsure of his role. Shirley Yang had to pull him in behind himself. Fatty clapped my shoulder from behind—I knew they were ready. I pushed the door open with my shoulder, and before I even exited, I thrust the "Scubapro" deep-sea speargun out. Its tip pointed into the murky water. The great shark from the outer corridor was nowhere to be seen. I leaned my head out sideways, and Fatty behind me raised the spotlight, sweeping the beam toward the far end of the passageway. The water was still and silent; there was no movement.

It seemed the shark outside had moved on. Everyone watched until they were certain before finally relaxing and filing one by one into the inclined corridor, closing the door to the captain’s cabin. Now we faced two choices: head upwards to exit through the bow of the Mary Celeste and replenish the shark repellent—but the bow exit was some distance from where we surfaced, and we risked shark attacks en route. The other option was to continue diving toward the stern; we were extremely close to our objective. If we succeeded this time in retrieving the Qin Emperor Bone-Illuminating Mirror, it would save us the trouble of entering this ghost ship a second time.

I weighed the options quickly. Since we had to swim back to the surface anyway, why give up halfway? Better to retrieve the Qingtou artifact and then retreat, avoiding further risk later. In the bow corridor, at least, we wouldn't be besieged by sharks; it was much safer than being outside the wreck. As for the captain's ghost, everyone except me seemed unaware of it. To prevent confusion in our movements, I decided to keep quiet about it for now, planning to assess the situation as we went. If a vengeful spirit was truly clinging to us, it might not be easily shaken off. Moreover, based on my past experience, rashly leaving the wreck before shaking off that layer of spectral black seawater clinging to Gu Chai would be unwise.

I checked the readings on the depth gauge and the air pressure gauge; both permitted us to proceed further underwater. I immediately made my decision, pointing downward to the three companions behind me. The dive team followed the inclined corridor, proceeding deeper into the wreck. After rounding an iron door warped by hull damage, we entered a vast hall that spanned at least two or three decks. The water in this hall was filled with floating debris: multicolored poker chips, opulent tables and chairs, decorative exotic plants, and a piano overturned in a corner. Hundreds of small fish darted back and forth in the water; when hit by the dive lights, they scattered rapidly toward the dark depths, streaking past our eyes with swishing sounds. As if fleeing some unseen danger, the dive to this point evoked a strong sense of foreboding.

This hall was likely the core entertainment area of this private yacht, used for balls, banquets, and gambling. According to the blueprints, passing through the central hall would lead directly down to the lower cargo hold. Fatty raised his hand toward me and made a gesture of turning something over—I knew he was probably looking for an excuse to pocket some valuables from this luxurious vessel. I smacked him lightly on the head. Now was hardly the time to pilfer extraneous treasures. I gestured toward the lower hold, insisting that finding the bronze mirror was the utmost priority. I then led the way deeper into the hall, with the other three following closely. Suddenly, Gu Chai grabbed my arm. I thought he was acting up again. I told Fatty to shine the powerful spotlight behind us, and the beam caught sight of a colossal Great White Shark attempting to squeeze its way into the hall from the outer corridor.

The shark's body was as massive as a small submarine. Everyone gasped, exhaling large clouds of white bubbles, wasting precious oxygen from their tanks. This was the same great shark we had encountered earlier in the passageway outside the captain's room. We had initially mistaken it for a Tiger Shark, but under the spotlight, we saw clearly: gray back, snowy belly—it was an even more fierce and bloodthirsty Great White. Its massive jaws revealed several rows of needle-like, serrated teeth. A single bite from that maw would fell even a King Kong Arhat.

Only now did I truly count my blessings that we hadn't tried to ascend directly through the interior of the wreck; otherwise, we would have met it head-on in that narrow corridor. Our spearguns were coated with a poison potent enough to kill with a single drop of blood, capable of instantly killing fierce sea beasts. But this Great White was so large and heavy that we might not be able to easily shoot and kill it underwater. If we met it head-on and the poison was even slightly slow to take effect, the members at the front of the dive team would bear the brunt, losing half their bodies to its jaws.

Fatty shone the spotlight directly onto the shark’s head. I saw clearly that this was the moment to strike, taking advantage of the Great White's effort to squeeze into the hall. I timed it perfectly, raised my hand, and fired the spear. Shirley Yang fired his speargun at the same instant. Two sharp, barbed fish arrows sliced through the water, trailing cold light like shooting stars, flying straight toward the Great White.

But the Great White was exerting tremendous force to wedge itself into the hall; to it, the ship’s iron bulkheads were probably no tougher than cardboard. That immense force shook the entire wreck. Coincidentally, the jammed piano, subjected to the violent tremor, slid out diagonally. Both fish arrows lodged harmlessly into the piano frame. The enormous shark had just managed to thrust its head into the hall, colliding head-on with the toppled piano. That presumably priceless instrument was instantly smashed to pieces by the impact.

Seeing the arrows miss their mark, with the water surging violently in the wreck's hall and piano fragments swirling in the turbulence, the great shark thrashed its tail and swam down toward us. We immediately turned and dove deeper into the ship with the other three, as if racing Death itself. But at our speed, there was no way we could reach the next hatch before the shark caught up. I noticed a small orchestra pit nearby and planned to use it to maneuver around, drawing the shark away using the terrain so the others could escape first, after which I would devise my own plan to get clear. However, before this thought could translate into action, the listing wreck shuddered violently once more. Under the impact of the Great White, the hull seemed to lose its support. Metal and water vibrated strangely as the Mary Celeste slowly began to fracture apart right through the central hall.