Chapter 235

Chapter 235

He picked up the heavy handbag, held the doll in his arms, signaled the Maid Doll to follow, and gently closed the door, leaving behind the ten days of focus and tranquility.

When he went downstairs, he happened to run into the landlord Thomas, who was sitting in the yard pruning bougainvillea. Seeing Evan and his group, the old man paused his shears and asked with a smile, "Young man, heading out for fun?"

"Yes, Mr. Thomas, I'm going to the First Island." Evan stopped, his face showing a warm smile. Thomas put down the shears, wiped the dirt off his hands, and let his gaze sweep over the Maid Doll and the doll in Evan's arms. A hint of curiosity flickered in his eyes, but he only warned, "The First Island is much more chaotic than the Fifteenth Island. I hear there are remnants of pirates and unruly natives. A young man like you, carrying these trinkets, better be extra careful."

Evan felt a warmth in his heart and nodded: "I will, thank you." He knew Thomas's warning was not unnecessary—the First Island, as the capital of New Nigeria Province, was the core of the entire colony, but it also gathered forces from all sides. There were imperial troops and officials stationed there, noble spies coveting power, and remnants of pirates and native tribes not yet completely eradicated. The danger level was far beyond the peaceful Fifteenth Island.

But Sara was there, and the Governor's Mansion—it was where he had to go.

After bidding farewell to Thomas, Evan walked along the familiar path toward the dock. The Maid Doll quietly followed at his side, the pet cat doll in her arms motionless, its obsidian eyes vigilantly scanning the surroundings. Evan held the doll in his arms, his handbag in hand, his steps brisk but not hurried. The coffee and spice fields along the way glowed warm under the setting sun, and the rustling of leaves in the wind mingled with the faint sounds of people coming from the hot spring inn in the distance.

He couldn't help but think back to his reunion with Sara at the hot spring inn ten days ago, recalling Sara's silhouette through his wet clothes and the words "See you in ten days."

Unconsciously, his fingers touched the love poems he had written these past days in his coat pocket. The rough pages transmitted a familiar sensation through the fabric, easing some of his apprehension about the First Island.

The dolls in the handbag were like silent comrades, the spirituality flowing within them connected to his mental strength, giving him enough confidence to face unknown dangers—he was no longer the boy who could only hide alone on Pearl Island from threats. Now, he had enough power to stand by Sara's side.

The dock was still bustling, with travelers carrying all sorts of luggage, and the cries of vendors and shouts of dockworkers interwoven. Evan led the Maid Doll through the crowd, walked straight to the ticket window, and bought a ticket to the First Island.

The departure time was printed on the ticket; there was still two hours before departure, so he found a bench near the edge of the dock, set his handbag at his feet, and kept the doll in his arms.

The Maid Doll stood behind him, and the pet cat doll in her arms suddenly twitched its ears—that was the warning signal Evan had set, indicating the presence of unfamiliar spiritual fluctuations.

Evan remained still, casting a glance around. He noticed two men in coarse cloth clothes not far away sneaking peeks at them, their eyes lingering on the Maid Doll with a hint of greed.

He sneered inwardly, tapping lightly on his knee, and secretly activated the spider dolls in his handbag, sending them silently crawling out to lurk in the corners around them.

The two men seemed to sense something; they hesitated for a moment, ultimately not daring to approach, and turned away dejectedly. The Maid Doll whispered, "Master, the danger has been eliminated."

Evan nodded slightly and relaxed his nerves.

He knew this was just a minor incident on the way to the First Island; the real test lay ahead. But he was not afraid—as long as he could see Sara and had these handmade dolls by his side, no matter how dangerous the road ahead, he was willing to brave it.

The setting sun gradually sank into the sea, dyeing the sky a brilliant orange-red. The dock's loudspeaker announced that passengers for the First Island should board.

Evan stood up, picked up his handbag, hugged the doll tightly, and said to the Maid Doll, "Let's go see Sara." The Maid Doll responded, following, the pet cat doll in her arms returning to stillness, its obsidian eyes still vigilantly guarding the master.

Boarding the steamship, Evan found a window seat, placed his handbag beside him, and rested the doll on his lap. Sea breeze blew in through the window, carrying a salty, damp scent, stirring his hair. He gazed at the distant Fifteenth Island, then looked at the dark sea ahead.

He gently stroked the black pearls on the doll, his heart full of anticipation and resolve, waiting as the steamship carried him toward the island that was both the capital and his destination.

After the sailboat left the Fifteenth Island dock, it headed into the deep sea.

The sea breeze carried salty, damp air that slapped against the ship's railings, and the canvas billowed and flapped noisily. The cabin was not spacious, with a few wooden tables and benches scattered around. Passengers gathered in small groups, some resting with eyes closed, others chatting quietly—mostly people heading to the First Island for business, work, or opportunity.

Evan chose a corner by the window, sat down, placed his handbag at his feet, and held the doll decorated with black pearls in his arms, carefully wiping a speck of dust off its dress.

The Maid Doll stood silently beside him, the snow-white pet cat doll motionless in her arms, its obsidian eyes scanning the activity in the cabin, fulfilling its duty of vigilance.

Halfway through the voyage, Evan began to feel hungry. He looked up and instructed the Maid Doll: "Go to the kitchen and get two portions of bread and hot milk. Stay away from the crowd and be careful."

"Yes, Master." The Maid Doll bowed, gently placed the pet cat doll on the bench beside Evan, straightened her light gray skirt, turned, and walked toward the kitchen at the end of the cabin.

Her posture was upright, her steps elegant—even as a doll, she exuded a refined neatness. Soon after she started walking, she attracted the attention of many.

Not far away, at a table, sat a man dressed as an adventurer. He wore worn leather armor, a rusty longsword strapped to his waist, and a ferocious scar across his face; his hair was matted and stuck to his neck, giving off a rough and tyrannical vibe. The man was gulping down cheap ale when his eyes casually swept over the Maid Doll's figure and instantly froze, a gleam of greed and frivolity lighting up.

He had seen many beauties, but never a woman like this—soft features yet sharp, a slim waist, a unique presence, and even her walk exuded an indescribable charm. It shook him for a moment.

The man put down his wineskin, licked his lips, his eyes glued to the Maid Doll, and rose to follow her quietly. At the end of the cabin, near the kitchen door, there was a narrow corridor, dimly lit and rarely used. The Maid Doll had just come out of the kitchen, carrying a wooden tray with bread and milk, when the man blocked her way.

"Oh, little beauty, you're quite a looker." The man grinned, revealing yellow teeth, his tone flippant and suggestive. He reached out to touch the Maid Doll's cheek. "Which master are you with? Come with me instead, I'll treat you well."

The Maid Doll's expression didn't change. She merely sidestepped his hand, her voice still gentle but carrying an unmistakable coldness: "Please step aside. I need to deliver food to my master."

"What's the rush?" The man pressed forward, almost getting in her face, the stench of alcohol and sweat mixing together, nauseating. "Keep me company for a bit; it won't hurt you. What a shame for a pretty girl like you to serve someone else." As he spoke, he reached out again, trying to put an arm around the Maid Doll's waist.

This time, the Maid Doll did not dodge. Just as the man's hand was about to touch her skirt, she suddenly raised her hand, grabbed his wrist with precision, and applied force far beyond ordinary human strength. The fingers, supported by an ebony skeleton, clamped down like iron pliers, locking the man's wrist. A soft "crack" sounded, and in an instant, the man's face turned pale; he grunted in pain: "Sss—let go! You're asking for it!"

The man was a Formal Knight, a seasoned warrior with a strong physique and strength, yet now his wrist was locked by what seemed like a slender hand, rendering him unable to move.

Enraged and humiliated, he raised his other hand, made a fist, and smashed it toward the Maid Doll's chest. The punch whistled with force; if it had hit an ordinary person, it would have likely caused severe injury.

But the Maid Doll reacted swiftly. She slightly twisted her body, easily evading the punch, and simultaneously twisted his wrist. The man lost balance, stumbled, and fell to his knees.

"Insolent!" the man roared, struggling to get up, but the Maid Doll pressed her foot firmly against his knee. Her foot, made of ebony, was hard as iron, and no matter how hard the man tried, he couldn't budge.

Desperate, the man reached for his longsword to fight back, but the Maid Doll bent down, seized the back of his neck, and slammed his face onto the cold floor.

With a dull "thump," the man's forehead hit the floor, his vision blurring. His anger flared, and his internal fighting energy faintly stirred, attempting to break free.

But the Maid Doll's movements became even more decisive. She released the back of his neck, grabbed both his arms, twisted them behind him, and pressed her knee into his back, pinning him to the floor. He struggled, his face reddening, cursing and shouting, but couldn't even lift his head.

The commotion in the corridor quickly drew the attention of the other passengers.

People gathered around, staring at the scene in shock. Some whispered: "Isn't that a Formal Knight? How did he get pinned down by a woman?"

"That woman looks delicate, but she's incredibly strong!"

"Look at her moves—precise and sharp. She's no ordinary woman."

Among the murmurs, someone recognized the man—a well-known adventurer in the colony, a brute who bullied the weak, relying on his status as a Formal Knight. Today, he had finally met his match in a strange woman.

Hearing the noise, Evan hurried over, holding the doll in his arms and carrying the handbag.

He pushed through the crowd, saw the man pinned to the ground by the Maid Doll, and showed no sign of panic. He simply asked calmly, "What happened?"