Chapter 121: Assassination at the Estuary Gas Station

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A luxury yacht cut through a broad river channel, cleaving the waves and flinging up sheets of spray.

This yacht was exactly what Lin Xiao had once imagined: more than sixty meters long, arranged in three tiers, with four decks running fore and aft, and the truest kind of opulence.

A blond, blue-eyed woman stood on the bow, staring eastward where a colossal red sun rose from the sea and scattered endless radiance over the world.

The sun rose in the east!

“Your Highness, the Holy Maiden, I report that the sorcerer who controlled the ghost ship has just suffered backlash. His body rapidly withered and aged, crumbling into dust and disappearing.”

A man in a black suit strode to the foredeck and bowed deeply toward the blond woman.

“I see. To think they could break the curse of the ghost ship—clearly I underestimated them. Leave the Fang unit here. Set an ambush at the fueling station at the next river mouth. Make certain all pursuers are annihilated.”

With a flick of her hand, she gave the order. Her gaze drifted ahead. Ahead lay the mouth of Lake Erie, where they would cross the Great Lakes basin and enter the Saint Lawrence River.

Silent Hill, I have returned.
Paradise, your gates will eventually open to us.
God, grant your faithful shelter.

…….

Inside the yacht, Lin Xiao had no reply, not knowing how to respond. Had he moved a little faster back there and struck off that old man’s head, he could have avoided this awkward situation.

“Oh, so in your heart you’re thinking that if you had acted faster, I’d already be decapitated?”

Duke Kalen seemed to have read his thoughts and pressed on.

Lin Xiao gave a dry laugh. That old fox had clearly held power for long enough to become an expert at reading minds.

“Ho, boy. I will let you witness the true methods of the Grand Duke of the Bloodline. Do not think that breaking the ghost ship’s curse gives you license to strut before me?

Let me be frank. A mere rotting hulk cannot hold me, Victor. Even if it were to trap me in circles for ten thousand times, I could still survive. We shall see who can endure longer.”

As soon as Duke Kalen finished, Misty pressed a hand to her temple, sat up, and asked in confusion:

“What happened? Why did I black out, and why don’t I remember what happened just now?”

Lin Xiao went over and helped her up. He then hauled Number Eleven and Zoe from the floor and set them on the sofa; as for Michael and Stefan, there was no room, so he let them lie down a while longer.

“With Duke Kalen’s brilliant command, we managed to break the ghost ship’s curse and slip away.”

Lin Xiao gave a brief explanation—he said he had jumped onto the ghost ship himself, found the captain’s skull, and after a fierce fight destroyed it.

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As he spoke, Misty’s expression shifted. What he described was by no means as easy as it sounded. One step wrong, and all would have been lost: they would have been trapped in that loop forever until their flesh died and their spirits dispersed.

Soon after, Number Eleven and Zoe woke in turn. Lin Xiao steered the yacht once more, passing by the ghost ship.

A cluster of them stood on the bow deck, watching it. By its shape, the ship looked much like the sail vessels of the old Age of Exploration, those that once came over from the European mainland.

The grand Age of Discovery was a watershed in human history—opening new sea routes, discovering new lands, a magnificent era that lifted the curtain and drove civilization forward.

In that age, countless sailors and crew gave their lives in the roiling seas: swallowed by storms, claimed by hunger and disease, fallen while chasing those routes.

These ships, stripped of their masters, kept drifting across the oceans, carrying their stories and proclaiming to the world that they had fought the sea to the end without regret.

As they sailed past the ghost ship, bright sunlight washed over them. Warm rays touched every face, and the three witches of Number Eleven spread their arms wide and breathed deeply into the wind.

A strange scent came on the air—a scent of the Great Lakes.

“Check the map. We’re nearly at Lake Erie. Fuel is running low. There’s a station at the river mouth up ahead; we have to fill up there if we’re to cross the lake.”

Lin Xiao pulled out the map to check, while Stefan handled the helm.

After last night’s ordeal, Michael had finally steadied. He understood now the enemy they faced was terrifyingly powerful—able even to summon a ghost ship and nearly wipe them all out. He no longer rushed ahead recklessly to rescue Nancy.

Seeing Michael sitting dazed at the bow, Lin Xiao folded the map and moved to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Michael. We will save Nancy for sure. The road is long, and we’ll definitely catch them.”

Michael rubbed his hands, turned, and said, “I know we can catch them. That isn’t my worry. If we do catch them, will we be able to get Nancy back?”

Lin Xiao offered an embarrassed laugh. True—as last night had shown, the Holy Paradise Church that had taken Nancy was terrifyingly strong. Even if they caught up, he couldn’t guarantee he could defeat them and bring her home.

Still, he was certain that if they could climb a few more levels—say to level fifteen or above—then unlock several more LV3 skills and a few promotion talents, they might in time defeat the Holy Paradise Church’s men.

Time and Source Power: those were always what they lacked.

“Jonathan, the river-mouth fueling station is here!”

Stefan’s voice came from below. Lin Xiao stood and looked ahead. In the distance, the fueling station at the river mouth was visible. This was the gateway into Lake Erie; most vessels had to stop here to refuel and replenish supplies.

The yacht drifted slowly toward the station’s dock. What troubled Lin Xiao was that the place was eerily empty, no figure in sight. At this hour, it should not have been so deserted.

He did not think much of it. It was early, after all, and there were few ships on the move. As the yacht docked, two station-clad workers stepped out and waved to them from inside.

Lin Xiao stepped off the deck, ready to jump ashore and speak with them, when a familiar figure suddenly burst from the bank, sprinting across the pier and shouting at the top of his voice:

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“Careful, they’re bad people!”

“Barbara?”

Lin Xiao recognized her instantly. The one running toward them was no one else but the girl Barbara.

“Bad people?”

His gaze dropped to the two workers below. Their faces twisted in panic as they drew pistols from their waists and hammered the trigger at him.

The hissing bullets flew in and struck his body, driving him backward again and again. Invisible barriers caught each shot; the rounds struck the unseen shield, clattered to the ground, and the impact sent waves of pain through him.

But that was all.

Pushing through the hail, Lin Xiao advanced and leapt onto the fueling station, landing before the two workers. He reached out, seized both their throats, and lifted them half into the air.

They went white-hot in pain, one of them desperately thrusting a hand into his pocket to pull out a key-like device and shouting,
“For Paradise!”

He was about to press a switch when three invisible forces struck in, interrupting the motion before his finger reached it. It was Number Eleven’s three witches, intervening at once and unleashing mental force to freeze him in place.

“Careful—there are more on the bank.”

Barbara came running and pointed. Across the shore, five or six men in black had emerged: three with submachine guns in hand, one prone with a sniper rifle aimed at them.

And two more, unbelievably, had shouldered rocket launchers. Two rocket rounds whooshed toward them at frightening speed.

The three witches’ attention was wholly drawn to the men in Lin Xiao’s grasp, as though that was precisely the distraction he was meant to provide. The enemy’s setup showed unmistakable intent.

Fortunately, warned by Barbara, they had some alertness. A vast silhouette soared into the air, wings spread wide to meet the incoming rockets. It was Duke Kalen, the vampire, who flew forward and intercepted the attack.

PS: I can’t tell if it’s because my writing is poor, or everyone is just lying in wait, or if there are too many free chapters—but subscriptions have dropped from 200 to 40, and my mood has collapsed. The reason I wrote this here is simple: with no one subscribing anyway, it makes no difference where I post it.

As a reader once said, it seems this is learned helplessness. When the results are bad, you get used to giving up. But there is one difference: I still won’t give up—if not this novel, then writing itself.

I finally understand where I’m lacking. This is Qidian. If you want to go viral more than by writing this kind of story, are you really just full of garbage in your head, raised on garbage? I see it now: on Qidian you must write pure “instant-satisfaction” fiction. If it isn’t exhilarating enough, it dies.

So I’ll leave it for now. After the New Year, I’ll decide whether to end it myself or start over on a new account with a new story. Either way, my future style will be unambiguously in that exhilarating vein. Plots like this will never appear in my work again.