Hogar de los espíritus

Capítulo 2

"Who the hell are you? What right do you have to detain us, the fine young people of socialism under the leadership of the Chinese Communist Party?" the fat man roared.

“He is Professor Robert, the visiting professor of psychiatry in San Francisco who treated Professor Chen,” Shirley Yang said coldly.

Professor Robert walked over and carefully examined the eyes of the three of us, starting with Fatty Wang, with a magnifying glass. He straightened up, walked behind the table, put down the magnifying glass, wiped his hands with a thin white towel, and said, "Congratulations on escaping the curse of the Demon Kingdom's Ghost Eyes. I'm quite interested to hear your adventure stories."

“Unfortunately, we have no interest in talking about it, at least not under trial,” I said bluntly.

“No, you’ll be interested in talking about it, because Professor Chen is still in my hands,” Robert said earnestly. Damn it, that despicable old swindler, he actually had this trick up his sleeve.

“Actually, I have many other identities,” Robert paused, then said to Shirley Yang, “such as the leader of the ‘psychic’ cult of science, which my late father, Mr. Yang Xuanwei, believed in, and the honorary curator of the California State Museum who indirectly instructed you to seize the glacial crystal corpse through Uncle Ming, etc…”

So that's how it is. His mother's whole scheme was a flawless deception from beginning to end. The three of us were just pawns being manipulated, along with Shirley Yang's father, Professor Chen, Uncle Ming, and Ah Xiang. The more I thought about it, the more horrified I became, and I couldn't speak for a moment.

Shirley Yang hissed, "So you were the one who ordered my father to spend so much time and money in the Jingjue Ancient City?"

“No, he went voluntarily. He went to verify the authenticity of the Scientology's lofty belief in 'spiritualism,' and also for a huge secret—please forgive me for not being able to tell you now. On behalf of all members of the Scientology, I express our deepest condolences for Mr. Yang's passing. The Scientology Church has inscribed his great deeds in its doctrines,” Robert said solemnly. *Damn it, you old bitch, you bastard! One day I'll make you pay for your crimes in blood, and you'll have to spit out everything you've swallowed!* I gritted my teeth inwardly.

Thinking of her father, Shirley Yang broke down in tears. It was better to let her cry it out; after all, she'd been holding it in for so long, and I'd never seen her so heartbroken and unable to speak in public when she missed her father.

"Then what happened to Ah Xiang's death?" I suddenly remembered that Ah Xiang's parents were also believers in Scientology, and they even used Ah Xiang as an experiment. In that case, Ah Xiang must have been kidnapped by that old bitch's men.

“Ah Xiang’s parents disappeared before I took over as leader of the Church of Science, during an important mission. Ah Xiang then ended up in mainland China, where she was adopted by the Uncle Ming you speak of under our secret surveillance. Her ‘opened third eye’ is the result of years of research into psychic arts by our church, intended to assist you in your Kunlun Mountain expedition. After returning from Kunlun Mountain, we secretly brought her to our San Francisco base for treatment, but she unexpectedly ran away and tragically fell to her death on the Golden Gate Bridge. We are investigating the specific cause and believe we will have a satisfactory answer soon.” Robert explained slowly and methodically, then changed the subject, saying, “Now, you should all give me the answers I need. Believe me, I only need to know the background of the Phoenix Palace so that I can find a suitable treatment plan for Professor Chen as soon as possible.”

I turned my head away, ignoring him, and gestured with my eyes for Fatty Wang to tell him. Fatty was also stunned by this, and when he saw that I was asking him to speak, he muttered a curse helplessly, cleared his throat, and deliberately told him incoherently.

While Fatty was talking, Shirley Yang was still immersed in grief. I didn't want to disturb her, so I let her rest. I also wanted to take this opportunity to think things through, sort out my thoughts, and find a way to deal with that old bitch and get out of my current predicament.

The whole situation is clearer now. So far, all the incidents have been orchestrated and controlled by Robert and the forces behind him. It seems this isn't over yet. The scale of their operation and the elaborate scheme they've orchestrated must be part of a massive conspiracy unknown to us. Based on these clues, I can't yet guess what it is. For now, the three of us aren't in immediate danger. He needs us to continue serving him, at least judging from his control over Professor Chen. As long as he uses us, we have a chance to turn the tables and kill that old bastard.

The fat man had finished speaking, and Robert listened quietly, lost in thought. Shirley Yang also gradually calmed down. Robert shifted slightly and said to us, "I think we have one more deal to discuss right now."

Damn it, they're finally here. I thought to myself, and couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

Volume One: Ancient Tomb at the Cape, Chapter Six: Underwater Trade

“Hold on,” I interrupted Robert, “Now that you’ve taken Ah Xiang away, why did you still commit the massacre of Uncle Ming’s family?”

Robert glanced at me and said, "It wasn't us, but it has something to do with you. Uncle Ming didn't know much about the secrets I taught him, so it wasn't a capital offense. As far as I know, the tragedy of Uncle Ming's family was because the tomb raiding seal that Mr. Hu provided him was a fake. It failed to have the necessary deterrent effect during Han Shuna's resurrection, directly leading to the tragedy. The fire was probably started by Uncle Ming when he and Xue Maitreya perished together at the last moment." I was stunned. I was so damn regretful. I only wanted to swindle some of the hard-earned money from this old Hong Kong farmer. How could I have gotten involved in such a huge tragedy? It seems that Uncle Ming, that senile old fool, somehow encountered Han Shuna's body on his way home from the glacier. Perhaps Ah Xiang felt there was no danger at the time, and because of the unforgettable bond between them, the old man actually brought the body back to Beijing, ultimately causing a situation where they couldn't share a bed in life but were buried together, implicating his entire family. Snow Maitreya can only live in cold glacial regions, which explains why it stole the Imperial Concubine Jade made of ancient, frozen jade from the seabed that Ah Hai was wearing. Of course, this is just speculation and remains to be confirmed, but I think it's pretty close to the truth.

"Then it goes without saying that the painting 'Sunset Glow and Cattle Resting' and the drugged letter are your masterpieces," I said.

“The three of you are too capable. To avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings, I’m sorry, I apologize,” Robert said with a shrug. “No sincerity whatsoever in this apology,” I cursed inwardly. “Now I’m at your mercy. We’ll see what happens. Revenge is a dish best served cold; there will always be a day to settle scores.” With that thought, I felt relieved.

“Now we can talk about the deal,” Robert said. “My ancestor, Mr. Robert, was a China expert. During the Qing Dynasty, he worked in the Guangxu court for thirty years, serving successively as the deputy envoy of the Imperial Observatory of the Qing Dynasty and the Governor-General of Shaanxi and Gansu, Zuo Zongtang, to negotiate the border issue with Tsarist Russia.”

Fatty Wang exclaimed, "Then your ancestors didn't secretly cede Chinese land to those Russian devils, did they?!" That's quite possible. What kind of good deeds would those old foreign devils do? As the saying goes, if the upper beam is crooked, the lower beam will be crooked too. You can draw that conclusion from this descendant who burns, kills, and plunders. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. I couldn't help but look at Robert with a half-smile.

Robert blushed quickly, waved his hand, and argued, "How could that be? My grandfather was even bestowed a yellow jacket by Emperor Guangxu for his contributions to the peace talks with Tsarist Russia."

"Yellow jacket? So we're all family. My grandfather was rewarded with a yellow jacket for serving Empress Dowager Cixi well. It's like the flood washed away the Dragon King Temple. Hurry up and release us!" Fatty Wang started jeering again, spewing nonsense.

"So, Fatty Wang, your grandfather was Li Lianying, the Grand Eunuch. Congratulations! You come from a prestigious family. Well done! But Li Lianying didn't seem to have any children, and he wasn't surnamed Wang. You're like an old mouse wearing a red-tasseled hat—pretending to be a first-rank official." I teased him.

"Damn it, you old fool Hu, what did you say? You're the one impersonating Li Lianying's manhood, no, you mean Mr. Robert is impersonating Li Lianying's manhood?!" Fatty Wang suddenly realized and burst into laughter.

Seeing Robert's embarrassed expression, which then turned into a surge of anger that turned his pale face blue, the relatively calm Shirley Yang hurriedly interrupted, "Stop fooling around, business is important, let Mr. Robert continue."

Robert barely suppressed his anger and said, “However, unfortunately, my grandfather was shipwrecked in the Strait of Malacca while traveling on the ‘Nautilus’ cargo ship back home. He disappeared along with the ship. After many years of effort, I recently confirmed that fishermen in the high seas in that area have discovered traces of an old-fashioned cargo ship. After comparing the latest satellite images, it is very likely that it is the missing ‘Nautilus’ cargo ship. Therefore, I would like to ask you experts to help me find my grandfather’s remains.” As he spoke, Robert took out a satellite image and placed it in front of us. It was indeed a picture of a tall, old-fashioned cargo ship. But how could a cargo ship from the Guangxu era still be adrift at sea in such rough seas, completely intact? I was filled with doubt and had a bad feeling, but I couldn’t see anything wrong with the picture.

I looked up and bargained with Robert, saying, "The problem is we're not expert divers. We can find graves on land, but not at sea. You should find someone more capable, like a professional salvage company or a maritime patrol team. Besides, I think you're a capable person yourself, so why complicate things?"

Robert said, "I think I should still trust the three of you. Mr. Hu Bayi is a master of feng shui from a family of experts, Shirley Yang has prophetic genes, and Mr. Wang Kaixuan is a renowned warrior. The three of you are a perfect adventure team. Furthermore, my grandfather brought back a large amount of gold and silver jewelry bestowed by the Qing Emperor in the 30th year of his reign. If you all successfully complete this mission, I can share these gold and silver jewelry with you three-for-one. All the expenses for this event can be withdrawn from me immediately." As the saying goes, flattery never fails. The previously listless Fatty Wang immediately perked up upon hearing about the potential reward.

I glanced at Shirley Yang, who nodded slightly. It seemed that given the current situation, we had no choice but to agree. This old bitch wasn't asking for our opinions; she was kidnapping us. If we didn't pretend to agree first, she was in danger of killing us at any moment. If that happened, whether we'd live to see the sunrise tomorrow was uncertain.

I pretended to be deep in thought for a moment, then asked Robert, "Is it really a 30/30 split? Are you sure there aren't any damn big zombies or anything like that on that ship? We left with nothing, without any prior preparation."

Robert said, "I don't know if there are any big rice dumplings. What do you think, Mr. Hu, based on your experience?"

I shook my head and said, "I think it's a bit risky. Things are unclear. You should let us go home and pack up first before making any plans. We can sign a contract first."

"Yes, yes, that's called being prepared for any eventuality and making plans in advance," the fat man exclaimed.

Robert smiled (I think it was a fucking smirk!) and shook his head, saying, "No, no, Mr. Hu, I've prepared everything for you." He pressed the phone on the table. "Bring him in."

As soon as the door opened, a tall, curly-haired, dark-skinned foreigner walked in, carrying three large bags. At Robert's gesture, he placed them in front of us. The foreigner opened the bags, revealing a dazzling array of items. There were tight-fitting wetsuits, diving masks, waterproof flashlights, water-splitting spikes, high-voltage stun guns, glow sticks, climbing ropes, oxygen cylinders, oxygen masks, candles, glutinous rice, fresh black donkey hooves, flares, gas masks, compasses, entrenching tools, black folding tools, groin probes, and so on—a whole bunch of rubbish, bringing everything, whether useful or not. Some of it looked like he'd scavenged from our house; now that's what you call being prepared. This old bitch Robert was determined to force us into this trap; we had no choice but to go.

“This is Jack, your team member. He’s in charge of keeping your weapons and ammunition safe.” Robert pointed to the black-haired foreigner. “In addition, for the convenience of the journey, I’ve prepared this deep-sea submarine for you. It’s the latest type of military submarine currently in service with the U.S. Navy, capable of diving to depths of 300 nautical miles below the sea surface. If there are no problems, you can set off at any time.”

Holy crap, this Robert is really something else. Turns out we're actually in a deep-sea submarine, submerged underwater. Just who is he? I couldn't help but groan inwardly.

Robert stood up, smiled, and said, "Have a good trip. I'll be waiting for your good news in San Francisco."

Volume One: Ancient Tomb at the Cape, Chapter Seven: Sea Monster

Meanwhile, that old dog Robert kidnapped us all the way, leaving no room for negotiation. He tied us up and sent us to the Strait of Malacca to find his grandmother's great-great-grandfather, Robert the big zombie. This is unprecedented in my tomb-raiding history, Hu Bayi, and I can't afford to lose face like this. A hero doesn't suffer immediate losses; I need to find a chance to get revenge to save face—no, it's a matter of principle. However, for now, let's wait patiently.

Thankfully, after we agreed to cooperate, that old scoundrel Robert, who had sneaked off the submarine, remotely directed the release of us, granting us some personal freedom. It made sense, to avoid us being unable to move our limbs and having to relieve ourselves on the spot, polluting his underwater office. The submarine was moving at full speed at a bearing of 150 nautical miles underwater, and our three-person activity was confined to this office; there was really no possibility of escape. Shirley Yang and I discussed it privately, deciding to make the best of it and wait until we reached our destination to find an opportunity to act. However, it was incredibly frustrating. Aside from those black devils delivering our three meals a day, we hadn't had a chance to see anyone else. The enemy's situation was unclear, and we couldn't act rashly. Besides, at a bearing of 150 nautical miles underwater, Professor Chen's life was still in their hands.

The submarine traveled at lightning speed, reaching the Strait of Malacca in less than a day. An ultrasonic search revealed absolutely no trace of the nautilus, as over a century had passed. Half a day later, the submarine turned back towards the high seas where the cargo ship "Nautilus" had been spotted.

(The horror story is about to begin, so let's lighten the mood with a joke first. - Editor's Note)

Fatty Wang finally couldn't hold back any longer and started yelling at me, demanding some risqué stories, including human-snake battles and such, to prevent his brain from getting rusty. I was bored too, so I decided to tease him and said, "What difference does it make if your brain gets rusty or not? Here's a simple test for you."

"It's almost Chinese New Year, and my family has a pig and a donkey. Should we slaughter the pig first or the donkey first?"

The fat man paused for a moment, not understanding what was going on, and asked, "What's the difference?"

I said, "I was testing you, and now you're asking me questions. Tell me quickly."

The fat man scratched his head and stammered, "Then let's kill the donkey first."

"By the way, Pig thinks so too," I chuckled.

"Then let's slaughter the pig first," the fat man said, rolling his eyes.

“That’s what the donkey thought too.” I laughed out loud.

Shirley Yang couldn't help but chuckle. Fatty Wang blinked, finally understanding, and couldn't help but laugh and curse, "Damn it, that dead beard is cursing Fatty in circles."

After this round of banter, the gloom of the past few days dissipated. The fat man casually picked up an old felt hat from the coat hanger and said, "It would be quite fashionable to wear this while diving, wouldn't it?"

I replied, "Then you'd look even more stylish wearing a red wool scarf."

Imagining Fatty Wang wearing a flat-brimmed felt hat, with a sallow face, a bright red scarf, and tight-fitting water jacket, swimming freely in the boundless blue sea, I laughed again. He must look like a big-bellied goldfish that has come to life!

The submarine gradually surfaced, accompanied by a splashing sound. It was time to breathe. Through the glass window, I could see a clear, azure sky; it was mid-afternoon, and we were likely in the high seas of the Pacific Ocean. Not a single ship was in sight. A fiery red cloud spread across the horizon like a vast brocade. The submarine oriented itself, checking its latitude and longitude. In this weather, it would be difficult to find the missing Nautilus, as intelligence indicated previous encounters had occurred during dense fog or severe storms. It seemed hopeless today. A red sun shone over the sea, and the silence created an atmosphere of ancient desolation and melancholy. I let out a long sigh. After so many hardships, a sudden longing for peace stirred within me. I involuntarily turned to look at Shirley Yang, only to find her looking at me too. Our eyes met, and she blushed, becoming even more beautiful. I stared at him, drooling. The fatso was still egging me on, "What's wrong, Old Hu? Trying to take advantage of our Miss Yang?"

"Get lost!" I kicked him, and the fat guy jumped away, deliberately covering his big butt and yelling, "So it really is true." Shirley Yang's face turned even redder.

As darkness fell, the undercurrents surged. A wind picked up, and the sea carried a damp, impending storm. The submarine submerged, searching for a suitable place to spend the night.

The submarine was moving at full speed in water 50 meters below the surface. The black man brought dinner on time: compressed biscuits, canned braised pork, cream bread, and hot coffee—nothing we had any appetite for. We had just finished eating when suddenly the submarine jolted, came to a stop, and began to sway from side to side. A gasp and a series of running footsteps erupted in the cabin. Shirley Yang rolled up a book tube, pressed it against the wall to listen carefully, her face changing drastically. "Quick," she said, "put on your swimsuits."

"What's going on?" Fatty and I hurriedly pulled the diving equipment out of the large package, asking as we did so.

"It seems like they're talking about a monster, or maybe the submarine malfunctioned," Shirley Yang said.

We quickly put on our wetsuits, packed our oxygen tanks, sorted and packed all our equipment, and even tidied up our unfinished dinner, taking as much as we could, awaiting further developments. Suddenly, Shirley Yang pointed at the glass window, her face changing, and said, "Look—"

The fat man shone his wolf-eye flashlight over and saw that the outside of the glass was densely packed with long, fleshy-white substances, piled up and wriggling, indistinguishable from other things, and covered with pimples the size of quail eggs, which was disgusting and nauseating.

The sea teems with life, and we couldn't immediately identify what they were. It seemed the ship was completely surrounded by these countless creatures, unable to move forward. The submarine rocked violently, trying to break free with increased power, but to no avail. A huge storm arrived, the seawater surging and churning, and these things dragged the submarine downwards like a tug-of-war. I checked the supplies; there were no high-powered weapons, so I gathered out a water-splitting spike, a high-voltage stun baton, and an entrenching tool and distributed them to everyone. Fatty went to pull the door, but it remained tightly locked from the outside; we had no way out. Then, a gigantic tentacle emerged from the jungle of flesh and attached itself directly to the bulletproof glass. A huge white eyeball appeared at the end of the tentacle, tentatively rubbing against the thick glass. It suddenly retracted, and countless tiny suction cups extended to adhere to the glass. With a sudden burst of force, the high-strength bulletproof glass was torn in two, and a column of seawater poured down, crashing onto the floor with a deafening roar. I cried out in alarm, yanked off my mask, grabbed an entrenching tool, and leaped into the water column, cleaving through it. A dozen or so sections of flesh, as thick as coral branches, fell to the floor, still alive and kicking.

"What is this?" the fat man exclaimed in horror, poking one of the limbs with his electric baton. The limb squeaked in agony, emitting a burnt, foul odor, and then black threads oozed from the festering pimple. Just as the fat man was about to reach out, Shirley Yang shouted, "Don't touch it, it's poisonous!"

Seawater rushed in, quickly reaching our ankles. Shirley Yang and I took turns severing the fleshy limbs that kept reaching in with the seawater. However, these limbs seemed inexhaustible, and we couldn't think of a way to stop them. Shirley Yang was exhausted and out of breath, so Fatty took over and continued severing. I signaled to Shirley Yang to quickly find an escape route, otherwise, even if these poisonous limbs didn't attack us, we would suffocate in this modern-day coffin in a short while. I could already feel the submarine losing power, sinking rapidly under the drag of the fleshy monsters.

However, the sealed door could no longer be opened, and the resistance of the seawater was increasing. Shirley Yang searched every corner of the office but could not find any way to escape. Was we destined to die here?! The seawater had already submerged half of my body, and the countless grotesque, broken limbs in the water were even more eerie and terrifying.

The moment I relaxed my guard, the fat man let out a strange cry, and a fleshy limb swiftly wrapped around half of his shoulder. With lightning speed, I swung my shovel, severing the limb; the thin, long end still clung to his shoulder, trembling. The fat man stared at me, mouth agape, his eyes slightly distorted, yet he still had time to make faces. Wait, something seems off; he looks like he's been poisoned. Looking past his scalp, I inadvertently caught sight of that comical felt hat.

Volume 1, Cape Tomb, Chapter 8: Escape (1)

As soon as I entered the room, I felt the felt hat clashed with the surrounding decor, as if it were deliberately placed there to conceal something. At that moment, a thought struck me, and I called out to Shirley Yang, "Quick, that coat hanger—"

Shirley Yang ran over, grabbed the clothes hanger, and tried to lift it, but it wouldn't budge. She then realized that the hanger was cast into the floor as a single piece. Upon closer inspection, she discovered that the hanger was made of two parts.

Shirley Yang fumbled around for a while, then grabbed one of the branches and twisted it haphazardly three times. With a crackling sound, a six-foot-square oval hole appeared in the wall behind the boss's desk.

Shirley Yang leaned inside, touched it, and said, "Something's not right. Why is it a closed metal plate?"

The fat man was starting to get confused; his expression was somewhat dazed, and his movements were slow. I called out, "Quick, treat the fat man first."

Shirley Yang pulled a stimulant from her bag, ran over, and injected it into Fatty's arm. The submarine was tilting and sinking, seawater filling most of our bodies, and we all felt like we were about to float and tread water.

The fat man jolted, finally realizing what was happening. He cried out "Mommy!" and stumbled back a few steps, plopping down in the office chair in front of the cave entrance. Before we could react, the chair suddenly accelerated, sliding backward and plunging headfirst into the cave. We could faintly hear the fat man's scream, followed by a whooshing sound like a jet engine. The chair slowly slid out of the cave entrance, empty; the fat man was gone.

Shirley Yang and I exchanged a glance, a surge of joy welling up inside us. So that's where the mechanism was! Without time to think, I gestured for Shirley Yang to sit down quickly. Shirley Yang grabbed her package, gave me a quick look, bit her lip, and leaned back in the chair—

Seeing the chair back, I swung the shovel a few times and cursed, "Go to hell, I'm not playing with you anymore!" I jumped up and kicked the chair, sending it hurtling towards the hole.

I turned around and saw a fleshy limb, as thick as a bucket and covered in tumors, rapidly reaching into the room through the skylight and coiling towards me. My heart pounded wildly, my vision went black, and a tremendous force pushed against the chair, causing it to lurch backward. I shot out like an arrow, accompanied by a throbbing pressure on my eardrums. My consciousness blurred, and I involuntarily opened my mouth to scream, like a loaded cannonball being propelled diagonally upward—

Seawater rushed into my mouth, the pungent, salty taste choking me. I snapped back to reality and frantically swam to the surface. The waves were towering, dark and churning. I swam to the surface, and just as I took a deep breath of air, a giant wave crashed down on me, slamming me back to the surface. I struggled to float to the surface, dizzy and disoriented, my limbs numb and unresponsive.

Storms and giant waves were crashing everywhere. I shook my head, feeling a pang of sadness. In such terrible weather, there was no way to control myself. I could only try to relax my body and drift with the current, while also being prepared to dive underwater when a giant wave came.

Calming down, I suddenly realized, where were Shirley Yang and Fatty? I frantically treaded water, struggled to sit up, looked around, and shouted, "Little Yang... Fatty Wang..." But amidst the howling wind and water, I couldn't hear any sound.

I grew even more anxious and called out to them again. Suddenly, a faint voice came from behind, "Beard, over here—"

Before I could even utter the word "li—", it was drowned out by the roar of the waves. A giant wave crashed in, and I tried my best to ride the wave to its crest. I could vaguely make out a white, buoyant object in the distance behind me.

I swam with all my might, but the waves kept pushing me backward, making it almost a three-steps-forward-two-steps-back situation, while the other person tried to get closer. Just when I was about to give up and fall into the sea, two hands grabbed me at the same time and pulled me to their side.

Shirley Yang smiled at me. Her face was pale and she was lying on the huge inflatable bladder as much as possible. It turned out that she and the fat man were using the heavy inflatable bladder to support their bodies and walk on the water.

The fat man told me that Shirley Yang was accidentally stabbed by a limb that was flung out when she rushed to the surface of the sea. She just received a heart stimulant and is thankfully okay.

I looked around and saw that most of the contents of the package were missing. I pulled out a rope and, starting with myself, tied myself, Shirley Yang, and Fatty together to prevent us from being separated by the strong winds and waves. The storm was continuing, and I didn't know how much longer it would last, so I could only wait and see.

The fat man suddenly asked me, "Beard, could that damned monster still be following us?"

I said, "Forget it. It shouldn't be. All marine life would seek shelter in such a big storm. Didn't you see it pulling the submarine downhill with all its might?" Actually, I wasn't sure either, so I could only try to reassure myself.

So far, we've only seen so many of the monster's fleshy limbs (I think they're legs), not its whole form, so who knows what it is? Then again, if we had seen the whole thing, who knows if we would have escaped alive? If we hadn't discovered the secret passage in Robert's office, I think we would have perished in the sea monster's jaws along with the submarine.

The fat man muttered curses, "That damn Robert! When we get back, I'll skin him alive! Didn't that old foreigner say we'd see his grandfather's ghost ship in the storm? I haven't seen it at all, damn it—"

I was about to interrupt him and let him calm down when Shirley Yang suddenly grabbed my hand and pointed behind me. I glanced back and thought, "Damn it, that fatso, he's such a jinx, everything he says comes true."

Behind them, dozens of meters away on the crest of a wave, floated a blurry, old-fashioned cargo ship, its entire vessel devoid of any lights.

Volume 1, Cape Tomb, Chapter 9: Escape (2)

Meanwhile, Shirley Yang spotted an old cargo ship on the crest of the storm waves, drifting aimlessly behind us like a ghost, without any lights. We fell silent for a moment, observing it carefully for a long time, but we couldn't detect any sign of life. In the darkness, the tall sails fluttered in the wind, just sitting there forlornly.