Chapter 174

Chapter 174

Lillian had changed into a more stunning deep purple dress today, its layered hem adorned with fine crystals that shimmered with a soft luster under the light. Her hair was carefully pinned up, revealing her slender neck, and pearl earrings hung from her ears, making her skin look even fairer. Yet, despite this elegant attire, she showed no trace of joy; her face stayed cold as ice, her brows furrowed slightly, as if resisting something.

The group headed straight for a large table by the window in the dining hall, where an old gentleman with white hair, Lillian's grandfather, was already seated. Lillian walked silently to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down, her back ramrod straight, her hands resting on her knees, her eyes blankly fixed on the tablecloth pattern, ignoring everyone.

Her parents followed closely and sat down, not paying any attention to their daughter's coldness, not even exchanging a word with her. As soon as her father sat, he picked up the menu and gave low instructions to the waiter, his tone urgent; her mother turned to chat with the old gentleman, the topics revolving around the business opportunities of this colonial trip and the recent situation in the capital, every word dripping with selfishness.

The waiter soon served the pre-dinner drinks. Lillian's father casually took a sip of his own glass and went back to talking about rubber plantation profits with the old gentleman, completely ignoring his daughter sitting right next to him. Lillian picked up her water glass and took a gentle sip; the cold water slid down her throat but didn't chase away the chill in her eyes. She sat there quietly, like a delicate, soulless statue, completely forgotten by her family in this bustling dining hall.

Evan watched this scene, a strange feeling stirring inside him.

This is really like the plot of Titanic.

But Miss Lillian has it worse than the heroine Ruth; Ruth's fiancé was a handsome, wealthy man, while Lillian has to marry an old man.

"To save the family, a young lady must marry a wealthy old man."

Gray glanced over and let out a fake sigh, though there wasn't much regret in his tone, as stuff like that was common in the Sala Empire and even other nations.

If a naive young lady can't break free from her family's control, she just has to accept her fate.

"Dong—dong—dong—"

A sharp, urgent bell suddenly broke the ship's quiet. Unlike the long blast at departure, these three rings came one right after another, carrying an unmistakable sense of emergency, hitting every passenger's heart like a hammer.

The dining hall went silent for half a second, then erupted into chaotic cries—someone's knife and fork clattered onto their plate, someone stood up abruptly, knocking over a chair, and the lady in the pearl-white dress even covered her mouth in fright, her eyes instantly filling with tears.

"Bang!" The two solid wooden doors of the dining hall were slammed shut by two nervous-looking stewards, who locked them with heavy wooden bolts. One of them shouted to the panicked crowd, "Please remain calm, everyone! This is an emergency alert! Stay in your seats and do not move!" His voice was shaking, but he tried to stay calm.

John was at Gray's side the second the bell rang, his right hand quietly pressed against his waist—where a small revolver was hidden—and his briefcase clutched tightly in his arms.

Gray, calmer than anyone else, held John back, who was about to rise, and pointed out the window: "Let's see what's happening first."

Just then, a hoarse, eerie song drifted in with the sea breeze, its tune ancient and desolate, like a chorus of many voices with raspy throats, the lyrics indistinct yet carrying a bone-chilling dread: "...Black waves roll, white bones cold, soulless ship, crossing the Styx..."

"It's a pirate song!" a merchant by the window suddenly screamed, his face pale as he pointed outside, "Fog! Such thick fog!"

Everyone's eyes turned to the portholes.

The sea, which had been relatively clear, was now shrouded in an impenetrable black mist. The fog seemed alive, rolling and churning, instantly enveloping the *Victoria*, swallowing even the distant starlight.

In this pitch-black fog, the silhouette of a black ship slowly emerged—its hull was mottled and worn, covered in seaweed and barnacles, and a faded black flag hung from the mast, its skull emblem faintly visible in the gloom.

"A ghost pirate ship! It's the legend of the *Death Ship*!" the old gentleman suddenly exclaimed, his voice filled with terror. "They say it sank in these waters fifty years ago, and all its crew turned into skeletons, haunting the night to steal the souls of passing ships!"

Gasps from the ladies rose and fell, while the men quickly drew their defensive weapons—some pulled out daggers from their belts, others retrieved pistols from their briefcases. Even Evan instinctively gripped the exorcism pistol hidden in the inner pocket of his formal wear, its holy runes warming slightly, as if sensing some evil force.

Lillian clutched her skirt tightly, her knuckles white, but unlike the other ladies, she didn't scream. She just stared intently at the approaching ghost ship, a glint of defiance in her eyes.

"Everyone, don't panic! It's just an illusion!" the steward tried to reassure the crowd, but his voice had lost its conviction—the ghost ship was heading straight for the *Victoria*, the distance closing rapidly, and figures moving on its deck were now visible.

Those weren't living people; they were skeletons in tattered sailor uniforms. Some were wiping down rusty cannons, others pulling on ropes, their movements stiff but synchronized, their hollow eye sockets flickering with a ghostly green light.

The next moment, a shocking scene unfolded—the ghost ship didn't collide with the *Victoria* but passed straight through it, as if through a phantom!

As the ship passed through, the temperature in the dining hall plummeted, and a cold, salty wind swept through, extinguishing most of the candles on the tables. Several passengers screamed and recoiled as they saw skeletal arms pass right through them, yet causing no physical harm.

The entire dining hall fell into a deathly silence. Everyone stood frozen, watching the ghost ship glide through the ship's interior, the skeleton sailors on deck seemingly oblivious to them, continuing their tasks.

Evan remained seated, his gaze sharp as an eagle's, fixed on the ship's helm—where a tall skeleton captain stood. He wore a tattered coat embroidered with gold thread, a tricorn hat, and held a wheel adorned with a skull. In his hollow eye sockets, a green flame burned brighter than the others'.

As if sensing his gaze, the skeleton captain suddenly turned his head, his green eyes piercing through the porthole, locking precisely with Evan's.

In that instant, Evan felt an icy chill shoot from his feet to his head, as if countless invisible tendrils were tugging at his soul. The captain's skeletal face showed no expression, yet exuded an overwhelming, disdainful pressure. He slightly raised his chin, as if issuing a challenge to Evan, or conveying some kind of signal.

Evan's fingers tightened on the trigger of his exorcism pistol, the holy runes glowing brighter, repelling the eerie cold. He didn't look away but met the skeleton captain's gaze with unwavering resolve—he didn't know why the ghost ship had appeared or what its purpose was, but as a student of the Imperial Knight Academy, he would never back down in such a moment.

The ghost ship fully passed through the *Victoria*, gradually disappearing into the thick fog, and the eerie pirate song grew fainter, eventually drowned out by the sound of the waves.

The temperature in the dining hall slowly rose, and the candles were relit, but no one dared to relax. Everyone's face was as pale as paper, their eyes filled with fear as they stared out the windows.