The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

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At this point, Fran felt a slightly surprised look in the eyes of the nun in front of him, and then continued to explain.

"But for him, death might be the best relief. Continuing to live on would only torment him with memories and fear for the rest of his life."

In fact, if Fran had wanted to, she could have easily saved Count Ferdinand's life. The green capsules stabilized his mind, the activating agents supported his body, and with some post-treatment care, he could have fully recovered.

As this doctor had previously stated, even death required her permission in her presence.

"Ahem. Although it wasn't entirely his own will, the count did indeed cook his wife and attempted to have sex with his own daughter."

"I see."

After Fran's description, Haida had gained some understanding of the specific situation.

Cooking one's lover and possessing one's daughter are both undoubtedly unforgivable sins. But she also said that it was "not entirely her own will," suggesting that the count was probably influenced in some way, which ultimately led him to become twisted and despicable.

If he still has a conscience, then his actions will constantly torment him. But if he has completely degenerated, then such a person... has no reason to continue existing.

In that case, "rest in peace" is indeed the only medicine that is suitable for him.

"Hmm... there's also a folklorist who wasn't so lucky; he was forced to eat his teacher during a shipwreck."

When Davis was mentioned, Fran showed some interest.

This folklorist's fortune seems to lie somewhere between bad and good, making it difficult to define precisely.

He was lucky, but his mentor exploited him without any scruples, leaving him to work for free for seven years. Later, he almost died while exploring underwater ruins. On his return journey, he was caught in a deep-sea storm.

A trip to the Earl's mansion just happened to coincide with a dangerous incident involving out-of-control relics. This guy seems to have no luck whatsoever.

But from another perspective, none of these calamities killed him. Isn't that a kind of "luck" in itself?

"Cannibalism during shipwrecks? Such incidents are not uncommon in the records of the Mysteries Hunters."

Haida also had some understanding of this.

In an era before advanced navigation technology, sailors were often forced to desecrate corpses to survive. In such dire circumstances, survivors had to resort to any means necessary to survive, as it might be the only way to stay alive.

Seeing that she was thinking about the question quite seriously, Fran spoke with a slight smile.

"Hyda, if the Levia also suffers a shipwreck, I can detach my leg and give it to you as a food reserve, okay? As for my hand, it might require surgery, so it's better to save it for last."

Upon hearing this, Haida narrowed her gray-chestnut eyes and stared at the doctor who was gently stroking her calf. Today, she was wearing winter velvet stockings, all black, with a soft and warm texture.

Clearly, this strangely interesting proposal was a bit too much for Haida to handle.

"...Dr. Fran, please don't make such a terrible joke."

"Okay, I was just saying."

Fran readily agreed.

In fact, she carried sufficient supplies in her first-aid kit, so she shouldn't be in that situation under any circumstances. But if the aforementioned situation did occur, the doctor wouldn't mind following her proposed treatment plan.

After all, losing a limb isn't a big deal for her; she can just go back to the clinic and get a spare one fitted...

"By the way, Haida. Where's Vivian?"

Just then, Fran suddenly remembered that she seemed to be on the ship as well.

However, this child sometimes has a very weak presence, to the point that the three of them can hardly remember him. This is probably a characteristic of Secret Service agents…

"She was seasick. She vomited on the deck for a while and then went back to her room to sleep."

As she spoke, Haida reached out her hand and placed her index finger on top of Haida's.

Then the crow named "Mu Ning" gently flapped its wings and landed steadily on it with its claws.

Mu Ning nuzzled Hai Da's hand, appearing quiet and obedient.

Corvids possess a special kind of intelligence, and birds that bear the secrets of the [Calling Bird] technique gain even more spiritual awareness on top of that. Therefore, this little guy knew one thing very well... he couldn't afford to offend either of these two people in front of him.

"She entrusted the crows to my care before she went to rest, and she should be sleeping for a while longer now."

"Gah."

The little crow cawed appropriately, a perfectly timed hint of disdain flashing in its bright black eyes.

"seasick?"

Fran raised an eyebrow slightly, a hint of amusement flashing in his amber eyes.

"These are very simple symptoms, and just one tablet of dimenhydrinate can solve them... Of course, I can also provide some additional assistance."

As she spoke, she picked up her medicine box and slowly walked towards Vivian's room.

……

The waves surge and the tides ebb and flow.

The sun travels from one end of the horizon to the other, then fades into a crimson afterglow before disappearing into the twilight.

Gazing at the black waves of the deep sea beneath the night sky, most people would feel a deep sense of loneliness and fear. The vast ocean stretches endlessly, making even the largest ships appear as insignificant as grains of sand. Submerged within it, they would likely not even be able to create a single ripple.

But as he smelled the slightly salty sea breeze, Bartley felt a sense of familiarity, even warmth.

After all, he was born in that chaotic country near the Abyss Sea.

Bartley took out his two butcher knives and sharpened them on a whetstone. Many civilians spoke of Gormouth with a hint of apprehension, considering it far from safe.

But upon returning to his hometown, he only felt excitement.

This means that he can once again tear apart the bodies of the evil offspring and cut off their heads... For a seasoned hunter, there is nothing more wonderful than the hunt.

In some ways, Bartley and Blackie are similar types of people.

They might not be that fanatical, but they are certainly warlike. It's an almost fanatical tendency, capable of destroying enemies without restraint and showing no mercy for their own lives. And the driving force behind this... is called "hatred."

"Speaking of Black Banyan... that old guy's luck is really extraordinary. No, now we should call him little thing."

When Bartley saw his old friend again in Norrington, he mistook him for Blackthorn's child. He thought to himself, "That old rascal Johnson, he's really gone all out, getting a child out of the house without even getting married?"

It wasn't until Hei Rong spoke in his usual arrogant tone that he realized something was wrong...

"However, this should be considered a good thing for him. At least, he won't die before me because of his lifespan."

"Ah."

Bartley gave a self-deprecating chuckle.

Although he still wasn't quite used to Black Banyan's appearance, it was better than watching him die in bed. Besides, the Banyan of Death had now completely merged into his body, so in another sense... he was much stronger than before.

Unfortunately, I came in too much of a hurry this time and only met him once; I didn't have a chance to fight him.

Unlike Heda, who simply applied for a quarterly transfer order, Bartley's trip also included a long-term assignment from the General Affairs Court.

That is, "chasing the Nightmare Guest".

For ordinary wanted criminals, the Hunter Order usually wouldn't assign a senior hunter to handle them, as that would be too much of a waste of manpower. The reason this time was different was because of Nightmare's provocative behavior.

It wasn't enough that he committed one offense at the Mirror of Enlightenment Club; he went and did it again at the Mandala Tavern. This shows a lack of respect for the Mysteries Hunter.

"Chong-"

With the final sharpening complete, Bartley placed the once-sharp butcher knife on the wooden rack.

Just as he was about to go get the other one, he heard the sound of a waiter bringing food from outside the door.

"Sir, your dinner is ready."

“The door’s unlocked, bring it in,” Bartley then called him in.

Soon, a waiter came in with a tray. The dinner prepared by the Leviathan consisted of smoked ham stew, fish rolls with fried shrimp, and some fruits and vegetables.

"Hey, you couldn't get this kind of food at sea a few years ago."

After setting down the plates and cutlery, the waiter left the room. Bartley looked at the still-warm dishes and felt a pang of emotion.

Suddenly, a glance out of the corner of his eye fell on the side of the weapon rack, only to find it completely empty. His unsharpened butcher knife had vanished without a trace.

"Oh? When did you take it? You've got some nerve, little thief..."

Bartley's eyes were slightly closed, his feelings a mix of emotions.

This knife, though an heirloom, isn't worth much. How did he manage to steal it? How dare he do that?

However, he didn't dwell on the issue. Instead, he picked up another meat saw, slowly walked out of his room, and began to search for the waiter who had just arrived.

Oh well, I'll just treat it as temporary overtime. At least tonight won't be boring.

-

If the Levia had been a medium or small steamship, Detrica wouldn't have made a move.

But coincidentally, it was a large ship, with enough ordinary sailors and waiters to distract her. It also provided ample space for her to hide. Under these circumstances… she was confident she could even steal the hunter's weapon.

The disciples of the Six-Eyed Raven must steal the personal belongings of the Hunter in order to gain recognition and promotion.

This is also a manifestation of the enmity between the two deities in the mortal world...

Now that the hunter's belongings were in her hands, she had succeeded more than halfway. Her only remaining task was to find a way to preserve her gains.

Thinking this, Detricka's heart began to feel wonderful.

Just then, she saw a doctor in a white coat standing by the corridor. His delicate, fair face and amber eyes were gazing at the distant starry sky, seemingly lost in thought, and thus he appeared completely unguarded.

Judging by his attire, he's probably a doctor from Norrington, and likely quite wealthy. With my hot streak today, I might as well pull off another heist…

-

-

Adding a spoon highlights something unexpected!

Chapter Sixty: The Secret of Ant Scales

As a disciple of the esoteric sect who has reached the second tier, Detricka can be considered a sub-priest. Of course, within the Six-Eyed Raven Order, she would be known as the "Plunderer".

For a plunderer, stealing from a hunter is the fastest way to gain spirituality. Of course... it's also the most dangerous way. These hounds of the gods are sharp and persistent; once a trace is left, it will be relentlessly pursued, like a persistent thorn in the side.

Derica gently pulled down the brim of the ship's steward's hat, hiding her gaze in the shadows, and silently observed the unsuspecting target before her.

Her impeccably tailored doctor's coat, youthful and pretty face, and slightly pale complexion... there was no doubt that she was a medical professional from Norrington. She appeared to come from a well-off family and have an income sufficient to maintain a respectable lifestyle.

For Detricka, women who appear naive and inexperienced are the easiest targets.

She approached slowly and naturally, each step following the rhythm of the waves crashing against the ship, silently.

Just as they were passing each other, Detricka reached into the pocket of Dr. Fran's coat.

Her skills, honed over many years, had become unparalleled; in the blink of an eye, she pulled a wallet-like object from her pocket.

The whole process was incredibly smooth, ending in the blink of an eye.

Having succeeded on her first attempt, she continued walking forward without changing her expression. For a complete theft, obtaining the stolen goods is only the first step; leaving the scene unscathed is what truly constitutes success.

Detrica maintained her pace, trying not to let anyone behind her notice anything amiss. Soon, she passed through the corner of the cabin corridor and then entered an empty storage room.

Her original clothes were left here; all she had to do was change out of the waiter's uniform and disguise herself as a "passenger" to escape.

Even though both thefts went smoothly today, Detrick didn't dare to relax for a second.

A skilled thief can succeed in stealing countless times, but just one failure could plunge them into the abyss...

Before changing her clothes, she quickly checked what she had just gotten.

It was a very familiar wallet, made of fine hemp rope and leather, with six black eye-shaped gemstones set in the center.

This is... my wallet?

Detrick looked at the wallet in her hand. After a moment of confusion and bewilderment, a chilling feeling rose from the bottom of her heart.

Did the doctor remove his own wallet before taking action and then put it in his pocket for me to retrieve? That seems like the only possibility... But how could that be?

When did she make the move? Why didn't I notice at all?

Along with the fear came a strong sense of frustration. A failed ordinary theft wouldn't have affected Detrick, because that was inherently a high-risk and unpredictable activity... but the current situation was entirely different.

"She took my wallet without me noticing, and then... predicted where I would steal from and 'returned' it?"

And did that guy go to such lengths for some special reason, or was it just to... humiliate me?

Detrick tried to calm her breathing and quiet her chaotic thoughts.

To achieve this level of skill, one must either be a head of the Hunter's Secret Court or a fellow member of one's own sect. Furthermore, this fellow member's rank would far surpass one's own. Perhaps even a high priest…

The climate above the Abyss is strange and bizarre. When setting sail from Norlington's ice-free port, one can still see snow falling, but by the time the voyage is halfway through, it no longer feels like winter.

But now, Detrick has rediscovered that biting, icy winter chill.