Ashes Of Deep Sea
Chapter 740 - Chapter 740 737 Chapter Keywords

Chapter 740: 737 Chapter Keywords Chapter 740: 737 Chapter Keywords The fleet was returning along the path it had come, but perhaps due to the sinking of the large entity “Holy Land Island,” the nearby sea was not very calm. The sea, like a mirror, was constantly echoing with layers of dense ripples akin to fish scales, and the thick fog around always presented bizarre illusions–this made many people tense.

But until the journey was half over, nothing truly threatening had emerged from the fog.

The sails of the Spiritual Body were hoisted high, and the slight creaking, accompanied by changes in the angle of the ropes, would sound from time to time. A thin mist flowed on the deck of the Homeloss, within which the figure of Agatha barely emerged, walking slowly through the mist.

She was checking the “environment” around the Homeloss. At this moment, her eyes reflected both the reality dimension and the scenery of the Spirit Realm–the surrounding fog seemed different from before, and the Spirit Realm also seemed slightly restless. Although it seemed this would not affect the Homeloss, she was still somewhat concerned and heightened her vigilance.

Everyone else was gathered inside the cabin at the moment: the captain was discussing matters related to the Mysterious Deep Sea with his followers.

In front of his trusted crew members, Duncan did not conceal his experiences in the Mysterious Deep Sea, including the conversation he had with The Saint of the Mysterious Deep.

Morris, with a pipe in his mouth, sat next to the long table. Wisps of smoke drifted, seeming to indicate his unsettled mood. After a long time, the old scholar put down his pipe and muttered with a slight expression, “I’ve seen many inconceivable things in my life, but I’ve never encountered a situation like this. The creator of this world has actually invited you to take over His position…”

Nina pinched her arm hard, as if she was still doubting she was dreaming, then she looked up at Duncan, “Did you really refuse?”

Duncan replied indifferently, “Yes, The Saint’s plan had significant problems, so I refused.”

“There is no future for the Shelter…” Lucia murmured to herself. She seemed to recall a conversation with her father, pondering for a long time before she softly said, “I remember you once asked me whether I felt this Endless Sea was cramped–but now, it seems that even such a cramped Shelter has reached its limits…Unexpectedly, having left the civilized world to come here, we received such news.”

A somewhat oppressive atmosphere enveloped the cabin, and it quieted around the long table. After a while, Nina leaned close to Sherry, asking in a low, slightly worried voice, “How do you feel now? Are you uncomfortable anywhere?”

“I feel pretty much the same as usual, even my eyesight and hearing seem to have improved quite a bit,” Sherry muttered, her eyes still gleaming with a bloodshot glow, “It’s just the thought of having to cover my eyes or keep them closed when entering cities…seems very troublesome.”

“At least we have returned safely,” Nina couldn’t help saying, “I was so worried when I found out you were missing, I even wanted to go to the island to find you, but Goat-head stopped me from going…”

Listening to the quiet conversation nearby, Duncan’s gaze slowly swept across the figures next to the long table. His tense expression eased slightly, and then he let out a gentle breath.

“Let’s end it here. This trip to Holy Land Island was very draining. Everyone should rest well before we return to the City-State.”

As he finished speaking, he was already standing up, gesturing with his hand for others not to rise, then turned and left.

The captain had left–and not until his figure had disappeared at the door did the cabin maintain a somewhat oppressive silence, until after a good while, Nina broke the quiet with a murmur, “Uncle Duncan looks very tired… He has a lot on his mind.”

“He has too many things to ponder,” Morris extinguished the pipe in his hand, “Unfortunately, there’s too little we can do to help.”

After a moment of thought, Lucia turned her gaze to A-Dog, “Did father say anything else after he rejected The Saint of the Mysterious Deep’s ‘plan’?”

A-Dog thought for a moment, somewhat uncertainly, “He mentioned he has another plan, but it’s still just an idea, and he hasn’t found the right path yet… That’s all. He didn’t mention anything else and hasn’t explained it to me and Sherry either.”

Listening to A-Dog’s recounting, Lucia fell into deep thought…

Duncan, leaving the cabin, didn’t go anywhere else. He walked straight through the middle deck to the door of the captain’s cabin at the stern.

In the slowly drifting thin mist on the deck, the dark wooden door, as always, stood silently in front of him, the words “The Displaced’s Door” sharply defined on the frame.

Duncan placed his hand on the doorknob but suddenly stopped his motion, just standing there quietly. After a brief moment of reflection, he lifted his head to look at the pale fog outside the bulwarks, resembling layer upon layer of curtains, along with the chaotic Sky Light filtering through the fog, standing for a long time.

After who knows how long, he finally shifted his gaze, pushed the door, and entered.

Walking through the familiar door, stepping on the familiar floor, entering the familiar room, Zhou Ming gently sighed and strolled through the living room.

Everything in the bachelor apartment was as in his memories, as if it would never change, as if not only the past few years or decades but even the past thousand or ten thousand years had always been like this.

Everything here was imprinted deeply in Zhou Ming’s mind. He walked through the overly familiar furnishings, stepping to the window, his gaze passing through this window that had never been opened, looking at the scenery outside.

The pale fog, like layer upon layer of curtains, made it impossible to discern any scenery that should be “streets,” with only the chaotic Sky Light falling from above, permeating the mist.

Zhou Ming hesitated for a moment, then slowly extended his hand towards the window, pressing it against the glass.

The cold, hard touch came through, the window remaining as immovable as ever, as if fused with the space itself.

He gently inhaled and then slowly blinked.

In the instant his eyelids closed, within the first 0.002 seconds as darkness fell, he… saw nothing.

There were no windows, no fog outside the windows, nor any so-called “real side” presented in his view.

What lay before him was boundless darkness, an ultimate void akin to the annihilation of all things.

Zhou Ming slowly took two steps back, calming his breath.

He remembered the transformation he had undergone, remembered how each blink on the “other side” of the door allowed him a fleeting glimpse of 0.002 seconds into some “true scenery” hidden beneath the dimensions of reality, but why was there only extreme nothingness before him here?

Was it because he was “Zhou Ming” here and not “Duncan”? Because this room existed on some higher level? Or because there really was… nothing here?

Standing in the living room, Zhou Ming fell into contemplation, when the corner of his eye caught a glimmer of light in the room.

… It was his computer, that unplugged computer that hummed as it ran, continuously cycling through wallpaper images as always.

Zhou Ming frowned, seemingly recalling something, and quickly walked to sit in front of the computer.

He shook the mouse, closed the wallpaper, and then opened the browser to start typing in the search bar–it seemed a bit awkward after long disuse, causing him several typing errors before slowly regaining the touch.

He still remembered, this computer’s browser had once responded during one of his operations–it had shown “the Moon”, and that response did indeed offer him some clues to the world’s “truth”.

Would it respond to his other questions again?

In the quiet sound of the keyboard, he first typed in “0.002 seconds” and pressed Enter.

Uneasily, he watched the spinning cursor and the slowly moving progress bar, while his thoughts fluctuated–

Homeloss had told him that he had come to this world at the very outset of the Great Annihilation; the ancient kings surrounded him, witnessing a chaotic cocoon floating in the center of ashes… Was that cocoon this very “bachelor’s apartment”?

If so, what did the various furnishings and appliances in this bachelor’s apartment represent?

What did this computer represent? What about the shelf at the end of the room? And those “models” that had been transformed here after being burned by fierce flames? What symbolism did they hold?

The cursor blinked, the progress bar at the bottom of the screen suddenly emptied, and an error message from the browser appeared in Zhou Ming’s field of vision.

But he wasn’t surprised.

After a moment of thought, he typed in new information: the Great Annihilation.

The browser erred, search failed.

Zhou Ming was not discouraged; after a moment, he typed another keyword: the end of time.

Then new error messages followed, and then more keywords–

“Cosmic Collision”, “Redshift”, “Shelter”, “Ancient Kings”, “Deep Sea Era”, “Constellations”…

He continually tried each keyword, but the error messages on the screen remained unchanged.

After countless tries, Zhou Ming gradually furrowed his brow; with the last keyword “Zhou Ming” bringing up a new error message, he sighed lightly, feeling a surge of disappointment.

“It” didn’t respond to him, gave no answers.

Uncertain if he felt despondent or empty, Zhou Ming shook his head, leaned back in his chair, and tiredly looked at the screen.

The small cursor still blinked in the search bar, as if waiting for him to enter new keywords, or just silently mocking.

Zhou Ming sat quietly for several minutes, but suddenly, his gaze fixed on the small blinking cursor, his mind seeming to suddenly remember something.

He abruptly straightened up, once again placing his hands on the keyboard, and typed another keyword–

“Reverse Singularity”

In the moment he pressed Enter, a surreal boom abruptly invaded Zhou Ming’s mind, followed by the screen plunging into darkness.