Chapter 226

Chapter 226

Feeling the steady power taking root in his heart, Evan didn't rush to explore further. First, he sent the butterfly puppet flying out of the cave to survey the sea surface.

After a moment, the butterfly puppet sent back a psychic signal of "Sea surface safe, no patrol boats in sight."

Evan breathed a sigh of relief. He took out the storage pouch, tied it tightly around his waist, then bent down and crawled through the previously chiseled coral opening. The cold seawater enveloped him again, but it no longer felt biting; the power in his heart pulsed gently, forming a faint barrier of warmth on the surface of his skin, blocking some of the chill.

He moved his limbs and swam quickly upward.

The rat puppet led the way ahead, its glow piercing the murky water, illuminating the return path. This time, Evan clearly felt his diving ability had improved; his ability to hold his breath was significantly longer, and his swimming speed was faster, as if his body had found a subtle harmony with the sea.

"Splash—"

Evan's head broke the surface, and he took deep breaths of fresh air.

Looking up, the sun had reached its zenith. Golden sunlight bathed the sea, dispelling the previous gloom. The water shimmered under the sun, the outline of Pearl Island was clearly visible, and the sea was calm with no patrol boats in sight—only a few seabirds circling low, chirping crisply.

He glanced around and quickly spotted the small wooden boat he had hidden in the shallow waters near the coral reef. The boat was safely beached on the sand, warmed by the sun.

Evan swam over, climbed onto the boat, placed the storage pouch beside him, picked up the oars, and began rowing toward Pearl Island.

Now, his body felt light and powerful, and he rowed effortlessly.

The oars cut through the water, splashing fine spray. The small boat glided smoothly across the sea, faster than before. The power in his heart pulsed slightly with each movement, filling him with energy; the fatigue and fear from before had vanished.

Along the way, Evan glanced again at the area where the Ghost Ship had appeared. The wreckage and bones on the surface had been scattered by the waves. Under the sunlight, the sea looked calm and vast, showing no sign of the fierce battle between the two ghost ships.

After rowing for about an hour, Evan finally neared the shore of Pearl Island. He deliberately avoided areas with heavy patrols, beaching the small boat on a secluded shoal, then dragged it into the bushes along the shore.

After confirming no one was around, he picked up the storage pouch and followed a hidden path toward the inn on the island.

The atmosphere on the island was still tense; patrol soldiers were still searching everywhere, but it had eased compared to before. Occasionally, residents could be seen cautiously stepping out of their homes, clearing debris from their doorsteps, relief evident on their faces. Evan kept his head down, quickly made his way through the alleys, and soon returned to the small inn where he had been staying.

As he pushed open the inn's door, the owner immediately came forward, surprised to see Evan safe and sound. "Young man, you're back! After the ghost ship incident yesterday, many pearl divers staying here fled. I thought you might have..."

Evan smiled and didn't explain much, simply saying, "Luckily, I survived. I'd like to stay a few more days. Could you hold my previous room for me?" He pulled out a few Gold Sala from his storage pouch and handed them to the owner.

The owner took the Gold Sala, beaming, and nodded repeatedly: "No problem! I've kept it for you! Make yourself at home; let me know if you need anything."

Evan thanked the owner, walked into his room, and locked the door behind him.

Only then did he fully relax, leaning against the door with a long sigh. The room's simple furnishings felt incredibly reassuring. He walked to the table and sat down, placing the storage pouch containing the black pearls on the table. Looking at the deeply lustrous black pearls inside, he felt torn again—how should he deal with these cursed pearls?

Evan's fingertips traced the edge of the pouch, his gaze fixed on the black pearls shimmering with deep luster.

The cursed aura was still faintly perceptible, but since eating the red fruit, the power in his heart seemed to form an invisible barrier, preventing the cold aura from eroding him.

"Selling them might harm others; it's better to keep them and make good use of them," he decided, his eyes growing determined.

He poured all the black pearls from the pouch onto the table. A dozen or so black pearls of various sizes—the largest as big as a thumb, the smallest only the size of a fingernail—all emitted a deep, ink-black luster, the cursed patterns faintly visible in the sunlight.

Evan stood up, walked to the bed, and took out his doll-making tools from the canvas bag: several fine needles, a spool of silver thread, a small piece of soft, black velvet, and some leftover supernatural material powder.

He first picked up the Assassin Puppet. Its original eyes were two ordinary black buttons, giving it a rather dull look.

Evan selected two black pearls of moderate size and the most even luster. Using a fine needle, he carefully drilled two tiny holes in the surface of each pearl—difficult for ordinary people, but for Evan, empowered by supernatural power, it was effortless. He threaded silver thread through the holes and firmly fixed the black pearls into the puppet's eye sockets. Then, he applied a mixture of supernatural material powder and glue around the edges of the pearls to reinforce and conceal the pinholes.

After finishing, Evan placed the Assassin Puppet on the table. The two black pearls, serving as eyes, gave the puppet an eerie liveliness, as if it might open its eyes at any moment, revealing cold murderous intent.

But in Evan's eyes, this was the safest way to handle it—part of the cursed aura of the black pearls was absorbed by the puppet's supernatural structure, and with the power in his heart suppressing it, it would be difficult for them to harm others.

Next, he picked up the Miss Doll. This doll was his most carefully crafted, with fine patterns embroidered on its skirt.

Evan selected three smaller black pearls and took out the black velvet cloth. He cut a small beret shape and fixed the pearls onto the brim with silver thread, like jet-black gem adornments.

With the beret on, the Miss Doll's gentle temperament gained a touch of mystery. The black pearl hidden in the secret compartment in its mouth subtly complemented the decorations on the hat brim, blending seamlessly.

Finally, he fixed the remaining black pearls onto the ears of the rat puppet and the wing edges of the butterfly puppet. The rat puppet's ears were adorned with two small pearls, making it look especially smart; the butterfly puppet's wing edges were inlaid with a few tiny pearls, catching the light with a subtle ink-colored glow, like a nocturnal spirit when it flew.

This took nearly an hour. Evan looked at the three revitalized puppets on the table, feeling a sense of accomplishment. These cursed black pearls had become unique decorations on the puppets—hidden and safe. He no longer worried about them falling into someone else's hands and causing harm.

He carefully placed the three puppets back into the storage pouch and tied it securely to his body, as if he were holding three precious treasures.

His stomach rumbled faintly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since morning. He stood up, straightened his clothes, ensured the pouch was secure, and opened the door to leave.

This small inn was indeed simple—only rooms for lodging, no dining service. The owner had mentioned before that there were only two restaurants on the island, both on the street near the exchange.

Evan walked quickly along the alley. The island's atmosphere had eased a bit compared to when he left. Patrol soldiers were still on watch, but their stern expressions had softened; occasionally they chatted with residents clearing debris. Several small shops on the street had also opened, mostly selling water and simple snacks. The owners had posted signs reading "Supplies scarce, prices doubled"—clearly, the ghost ship incident had strained the island's resources.

After about fifteen minutes, Evan finally saw the two restaurants the owner had mentioned. They were right next to each other, low wooden structures with simple signs. The left one read "Seaside Bistro," the right one "Quick Meal Bar."

Evan glanced over and chose "Quick Meal Bar," which was less crowded—he didn't want to waste too much time on eating. After dealing with the black pearls, he wanted to return to the cave on the sunken island to see if he could find more clues about Hill Bird and the ghost ship.

Pushing open the restaurant door, a waft of food aromas hit him—the aroma of freshly baked bread and the savory smell of sausages.

The interior was simple, with a few wooden tables and chairs and faded nautical charts on the walls, and a simple counter in the corner where a middle-aged woman in an apron was busy making sandwiches.

The customers were mostly pearl divers and a few patrol soldiers, all eating quickly, occasionally whispering about yesterday's ghost ship incident and the soaring pearl prices.

"Ma'am, a sandwich and a glass of water, please," Evan said as he found a seat by the window and called out to the counter. He placed the storage pouch on the chair beside him, close to him, and instinctively scanned the surroundings—a habit he had developed over the years: staying alert wherever he was.

"Coming right up!" the owner replied. Deftly, she placed two golden-brown toasted bread slices on the cutting board, layered them with lettuce, a thick slice of ham, and a piece of cheese, drizzled some salad dressing, wrapped it in plastic wrap, and handed it over. She also brought a glass of plain water, setting it before Evan.

"Sandwich, five Copper Huote; water is free," the owner said with a smile, her eyes inadvertently glancing at Evan's storage pouch, noticing the corner of a doll's clothing peeking out. Curiosity flickered in her eyes, but she didn't ask.

Evan paid five Copper Huote, picked up the sandwich, and took a bite.

The bread was crispy on the outside and soft inside, the ham savory and flavorful, the lettuce refreshingly cutting the richness of the cheese. The flavor was simple yet satisfying. He ate quickly, listening to the conversations around him.

"Did you hear? The investigation team sent by the royal family has arrived on the island. They're looking into the ghost ship incident and fishing out shipwreck debris from the sea," a pearl diver whispered.

"Not only that! I heard the price of black pearls has gone up again, especially high-quality ones—almost three times the price of white pearls! But strangely, the black pearls brought up recently all have some weird aura," another person chimed in.

Evan's interest was piqued. It seemed the royal family was already taking the ghost ship incident seriously, and he wasn't the only one who had discovered cursed black pearls. He ate faster, finished the sandwich in a few bites, drank some water, and stood up to leave.