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"Oh? Where is he located? Has he shown any signs of acting out of line or any similar inclinations?"
Utus needs to further confirm information about the suspected individuals.
"He is located at the end of the outer corridor on the fourth floor and is currently moving downwards. He is wearing an old gray polyester jacket, is overweight, and looks to be around forty or fifty years old. He is bald."
"As for whether there has been any outrageous behavior... everything is normal at the moment."
The inchworm explained what it knew in a short and concise manner.
"To avoid being exposed, I kept a great distance from him. The guy mentioned the words 'meeting,' 'hiding,' 'lower deck,' and 'cargo.' And his counter-surveillance awareness was extremely high. Although I only followed and monitored him from a distance, he had already noticed."
"That definitely needs to be taken more seriously."
Utus nodded, then strode to the captain's cabin to inform Niflü, and also summoned a burly young sailor to the security office to gather armed personnel.
"To be honest, since dealing with a bunch of idiots who boarded the Serpent five or six years ago, I haven't encountered any emergencies that required handling on board. The ones I encountered in Norrington and Morion were all evil offspring... I wonder if I'm still a bit rusty when facing humans."
Soon, the two informed Nifl, who was looking at the aquarium in the captain's cabin, of the unusual situation.
Nifl tapped his meerschaum pipe on his desk, his aged and profound gaze as calm as a still well.
“These kids these days are getting bolder and bolder than ever. The Northern Blade actually dared to board a ship bound for Norrington. If I had heard that a few years ago, I probably would have thought it was a lame joke told by Zoparos when he was drunk.”
“In principle, they are also passengers who have bought tickets. We have a transactional relationship, and we even have to ensure their personal safety. Right now, they haven't taken any concrete action, and making too much noise might affect business…”
"So, keep it clean, don't scare the little moneybags on the ship. I'm waiting to take Broken Blade's head to the Funeral Court for the bounty."
After saying that, he coughed twice and handed the matter over to Professor Utus.
After consuming the scale given to him by Shiodia, Nifl's health improved. Although he was still very old, he was no longer on the verge of death, ready to give up his affairs at any moment.
However, for an older person, absorbing and digesting high-purity Heilin is a slow process; it will take him at least another six months to recover to a level where he can support strenuous exercise. He is also unable to personally participate in physically demanding tasks such as apprehending suspects.
……
Stepping out of the captain's cabin, Utus and the inchworm immediately headed towards the location that the left eyeball was currently watching.
During this process, the oceanography professor couldn't help but take a closer look at the inchworm, and then asked a question with a puzzled expression.
"Mr. Inchworm, are you injured?"
"It seems that your left eye has not been open since we first met, and your eyelid looks a bit sunken."
The inchworm made no attempt to conceal the unusual appearance of its eyes. It immediately parted its eyelids, revealing empty eye sockets with a hint of flesh.
"Don't worry, I'm not injured. The thing that's tracking that suspicious person right now is my left eye. It's much better at hiding than I am, so it won't be so easy to detect."
"……I see."
Looking at the eye sockets where nerves and granulation tissue were faintly visible, Utus narrowed his eyes slightly and stopped asking questions.
Although the name and operating principle of this secret art are still unknown, most practitioners of the rituals that worship cups and moths are proficient in manipulating the body. Whether it's changing appearance, altering skin, or shedding the physical body... it's impossible for him to know everything.
As a large-displacement steamship powered by several arcane furnaces and carrying relics from a lost era, the Leviathan is roughly the size of a small cruise ship. Therefore, there is a considerable distance between the captain's cabin on the top deck and the passenger area on the middle deck.
To avoid alerting the enemy, Utus did not assemble all his armed personnel. He only strengthened patrols at each outpost via radio communication and remained prepared for any special response.
The inchworm, however, kept its left eye focused, its gaze fixed on the middle-aged man who had descended the gangway to the third floor. Five
Walking along the corridor of the passenger quarters, Clapham would whistle a bird's whistle at each specific room he entered. The sound was sharp and long, yet not jarring, and accompanied by the sound of crashing waves, it didn't seem out of place. 7
Aside from blowing the whistle, he did nothing else. (Six)
About ten minutes later, Clapham had reached the smoking area on the main deck. It was a spacious platform equipped with comprehensive fire-fighting facilities and also offered scenic views… though the view from the upper bridge was, of course, better. 6
It was getting late, so no one was staying there. Each floor of the guest room area has a separate smoking area at the end of the corridor, so there's no need to make a special trip there.
Over the next five minutes, a total of seven travelers, each with vastly different appearances, expressions, and clothing styles, approached the inconspicuous smoking area. Including Clapham, there were eight people in total, perfectly fitting the formation of the Northern Blade tactical unit.
"Prepare for action."
Clapham issued the order in a deep voice, clearly indicating that he was the leader of this group of broken blades.
Although they had planned their operation beforehand, including camouflage, concealment, and infiltration of the lower deck, proper communication was still essential during the implementation phase.
"When I boarded the ship, I saw Professor Utus of the White Cup Oceanography Department. It can be confirmed that there is at least one threat on the Levia that is comparable to the High Priest. Abandon the first option of hijacking the ship."
They were aware of Utus's existence. However, because the White Cup Professor frequently traveled to Norrington for teaching and research, and wasn't always on the ship, he was considered an uncertain factor.
If the opponent were merely ordinary Exterminators, Clapham's squad was confident they could annihilate them with a surprise attack. But if they added a former Abyss Legend to that mix... they had to consider whether they were even qualified.
"Activate the second plan: infiltrate the lower levels and try to get close to the hold. Once the 'cargo' is retrieved, disperse and return to stealth mode."
A female dagger frowned at Clapham's command.
"So we're really going to Norrington? That's the first port the Leviathan will dock at; we won't even have a chance to disembark early. Do you really think the Secret Service's crows won't spot us?"
"If you stay there for three days, they'll be able to figure out the color of whatever you're wearing underneath!"
Maivel is the only woman in this "Winter Fangs" squad, and her seniority is second only to Clapham. As a former funeral maid, she still retains superb skills in wielding weapons... otherwise, she would never have survived to this day.
However, in order to gain the favor of a certain Saffogorsk councilor, she also learned other unspeakable tricks. Some are addicted to the warm, swaying bodies of dancers on the bed, while others prefer the decaying roses that dissolve in blood and mud…
Taste is something that is never fixed.
After being questioned, Kraqi Peng's fat, round face underwent a sudden change. The lingering effects of the alcohol disappeared, replaced by several bulging, furrowed muscles that hinted at anger.
"Marvel, have you rusted your brain from taking too many showers in the senator's bathroom?"
“We don’t have time to argue about the so-called risks here. We’ll both be dead when the deadline comes. The second option is the most feasible one. If you don’t agree, I’ll send you on your way right now.”
"Or do you really want to go up against the first mate of the 'Black Sea Ghost'? If Nifl Hamilton weren't so old he'd be buried in the ground, I would never fucking set foot on this damn ship! I'd rather find a brothel in Foy Harbor and get drunk and die before the very last moment than be shredded and thrown into the water to feed the fish!"
He kept his voice as low as possible, and his eyes, sandwiched between layers of fat, shone as if they were burning, revealing a fierce and menacing intent.
Catalyzed by alcohol, tobacco, and the fear of death, Clapham, who had long been numbed, vaguely showed some resemblance to his former self as a Hunter.
"you……"
Marville's expression froze for a moment. She wanted to refute him, but instinct told her that if she continued to dwell on this topic, the impatient Clapham might really kill her.
Moments later, the conflict was quietly dropped.
It wouldn't be unusual for eight people to gather in the main deck's smoking area under normal circumstances, but now that it was getting late, lingering there for an extended period would be too conspicuous. Every second they stayed increased the risk of being noticed.
After deciding to use the second plan, they began to execute it according to their assigned roles. Four men hid as lookouts at the corner of the gangway, one mingled among the ordinary passengers to observe the crew's movements, and the remaining three attempted to sneak into the lower deck.
Below the main deck lies the interior of the Leviathan, horizontally divided into three levels, accessible only with a crew member's pass. The compartments housing the arcane furnace core, spirit-infused materials, and steam turbines have additional protective measures.
Clapham couldn't help but feel relieved that his target was merely a cargo hold with a lower level of protection.
The biggest challenge of the entire plan is that the access stairs on each deck inside the main hull are guarded by spies. Trying to descend using the existing passageways would inevitably lead to direct contact with them, a problem that cannot be avoided.
The Northern Blades' solution was to use the second-class superior secret technique, [Creating Doors], to forcibly open the deck beneath their feet, and then use grappling hooks to descend vertically to the lower deck, thus avoiding the checkpoints on their original route.
The theory seems very simple, but putting it into practice is extremely difficult and uncertain.
They first had to find a sufficiently secluded empty cabin to prepare for the secret technique, try to reduce the noise when the deck was opened, and ensure that they would not encounter patrolling guards during the rappelling... In addition, they also had to pay attention to the location of the functional cabins.
If you accidentally fall into a working arcane furnace or a ballast tank filled with seawater, things will become very complicated.
To maximize their chances of success, Clapham had made countless preparations beforehand. As if blessed by fate, the entire rappelling process went exceptionally smoothly, and they reached the cargo hold directly through the vertical passages opened by the three "Creation Doors".
"That's impressive, Clapham. You've got all that muscle, and you didn't break the grappling hook."
Having finally arrived at the lower deck of the Leviathan, Marville's tense nerves eased slightly, and she had the leisure to joke around.
"The reliability of items from Funeral Parlor goes without saying; hunters never slack off on their weaponry. Alright... the 'Tanuki Compass' has a very strong sense of direction; the target is at eight o'clock. She fled all the way from Mordway back to Foy, and was seriously injured, almost completely unable to resist."
“But if something goes wrong, then kill her. The employer doesn’t care whether we bring back a live body or a corpse.”
In Clapham's palm lay a small, intricately patterned precious metal compass, its pointer a bone-white color, carved from the fangs of some kind of feline. Clearly, it was the "Fox-Fox Fang Compass," the relic used for navigation.
Just then, a deep and cheerful male voice rang out from the side, causing the three broken blades to flinch.
Lin: "Excuse me, passengers, the cargo hold of the Leviathan is not open to the public."
Qi said, "I guess... you guys must have accidentally taken the wrong route during your group outing. You're such a worry."
Before Liu finished speaking, Utus's imposing figure appeared in the pale light.
jiu——
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4 spoonfuls!
Chapter 3 Hidden in the Box
“Utus…”
Clapham muttered the visitor's name in a somber tone, his voice strained and his face extremely grim.
The presence of this oceanography professor with the white cup signifies the complete failure of Plan Two. The armed crew of the Leviathan has been alerted, and conflict is imminent and inevitable. Furthermore, they have lost the initial advantage of being in the shadows.
This is what is meant by a desperate situation.
As for trying to negotiate with the other party... is that even possible?
When the thought popped into his head, Clapham himself found it somewhat ridiculous.
Niflück reached some kind of agreement with the White Cup Order, so much so that the once legendary captain and navigator became an honorary professor. He disbanded his once mighty fleet that dominated the Abyss, stopped using the name "Ghost of the Black Sea," and agreed to abide by the rules of the Exorcists most of the time.
But this doesn't mean he'll really forget the pirates' traditional trick of double-crossing.
The current situation doesn't even qualify as a double-cross.
The White Cup Order and the Hunters have had a close working relationship in recent years. Therefore, the Exorcists' capture of the Northern Blade is like a house cat hunting a mouse, which is morally and institutionally justified.
"Execute Plan One, prepare for a full-scale assault!"
Clapham gritted his teeth, and the fat on his face trembled violently.
"Take care of Utus first, then hijack the ship as planned. We can't escape in the Abyss Sea anyway, so killing as many as possible is worthwhile... I want to see if you can still be as reckless as before after changing into these glamorous clothes!"
As he spoke, he quickly rolled up his sleeve, revealing a sword-shaped tattoo etched on his forearm.
Crimson blood appeared, and a short dagger hidden between the arm bones rose from the scar and was then grasped by Clapham.
A high wall separates the unarmed from the armed. As former servants of the Funeral Court, the Northern Remnant Blades have long been accustomed to the secret art of using their bodies as weapon sheaths.
Before he could finish speaking, Clapham had already thrown the dagger in his hand at Utus, and then took out a steel spike in the same way before leaping close to his opponent.
His flabby body and increasingly bloated physique made him less agile than before, but the weight gain brought him short bursts of power that surpassed his former self. His forward lunge was heavy and ferocious, like a wild boar brandishing its tusks and black mane.
The dagger, flashing with a cold, sharp light, struck Utus with perfect accuracy, piercing his carotid artery.
The skin and flesh of the target burst open, blood vessels ruptured, and bright red, thick fluid gushed out like a spring.
Clapham was overjoyed at his successful strike.
However, the exhilaration lasted less than a moment, followed by a deep, bone-chilling coldness. A strange feeling churned in his mind, and he instinctively sensed that something was wrong.
Liu doesn't smell of blood...
"Ah!"
In the instant of his stunned silence, a scream rang out from behind Clapham.
Si's voice was mournful and hoarse, filled with resentment yet gradually weakening.
He immediately stopped and turned around, only to find Maivel collapsed on the ground. The woman's beautiful body, still bearing the faint marks of training, was now convulsing like a dying fish, her neck bare.
This time, the intense, almost choking smell of blood finally filled Clapham's nostrils.
"Oh, I'm sorry, my movements might have been a bit rough. After all, it's been too long since I've attacked someone without any restrictions."
Utus was holding Maivel's blood-soaked head in his hand, along with half of her pale spine still wrapped in flesh and nerves.
"I hope you'll forgive me."
With that, he dropped the head with its wide-open eyes, making a dull, fleshy sound.
Utus rarely used such violent and horrific methods of combat, but the fact that these traitors of the Hunters dared to threaten him with the passengers of the Levia... this enraged him to some extent.
However, in this professor of marine sciences' view, executing an enemy by dislocating their spine is actually quite in line with humanitarian standards. Both pain and despair only last for a fleeting moment; he usually handles the abyssal monsters used in experiments in the same way.
"how did you do it?"
Clapham took short, quick breaths, trying his best not to let fear overwhelm him.
Why did Utus suddenly disappear and then suddenly reappear behind him?
Was his injury just an illusion? Was it the Light of the Owls, or the secret art of the Moth? No, there's no intelligence indicating the presence of the Obscure Society on the Leviathan…
If he were twenty years younger, before that burning snowy night in the North, perhaps he could have cleared his mind with the combat skills of an outsider hunter. But now he only felt dazed and confused, like a piece of black and yellow pig iron broken and rusted.
In the current situation, further reflection is no longer meaningful except to further fuel fear.