Chapter 282: 58. The Storm of the Kingdom
Turning the gaze back to the ocean heading towards the Kingdom of Sardinia, it was now the twentieth day of Fisher’s journey aboard the Flying Fish. The further north they traveled, the gloomier the weather at sea became, with patches of frost and dark clouds painting half the sky, also outlining the north’s background.
In traditional legends, the process of entering the Northern Region is described as “crawling forward under the axes and blades.” The Northern Region is cold and windy, bringing many uncertainties and dangers to navigation.
Even without encountering hazards at sea, when the Captain stands on the deck looking up at the thick, viscous gray clouds overhead, it is hard not to feel a sense of trepidation. In ancient Sardinia, setting sail on the ocean was always the greatest test of a woman’s courage.
However, the Flying Fish, as a steam-powered vessel, faced none of these concerns. As long as the captain did not flinch, it would not turn back. Moreover, it was currently piloted by a warrior from Nali, who only admired the Northern Region’s storms without fear.
On the deck, a man with an exposed upper body was stretching his limbs, performing an extremely unusual movement that seemed filled with the power of a legendary demon.
This was the first volume of Eil’s demon combat technique, primarily aimed at maintaining bodily coordination and emphasizing strength, albeit lacking in skill. It was very suitable for a beginner like Fisher.
His bare upper body was extremely hot, even in the icy cold, creating a thin vapor. Panting, he adjusted his movements and then took a deep breath, extending his palm forward like a spiral, creating a vortex from the cold air around him.
“Boom!”
The force surged outward, and the fierce airflow transmitted into the far upper air before slowly dissipating, turning into nothingness.
“The first volume is almost mastered. Eil’s method is indeed very useful. It would be even better if I could expend a little less energy.”
In Eil’s view, “combat” was not merely about physical collision; the key point was the momentum. The essence of battle was the process of “maintaining your own momentum while depleting the opponent’s.” Thus, training methods could generally be divided into two parts.
Any self-initiated attack, defense, or movement would lead to a loss of momentum. Minimizing the loss caused by these actions was the first part that needed practice.
Any attack would diminish the opponent’s momentum. How to strike, where to hit, and when to hit to maximize the opponent’s loss of momentum was the second part that needed practice.
Though the explanation was quite rough, Fisher had felt quite frustrated with such pure talent-based training before. On the Flying Fish, however, he felt rapid progress, largely due to Eimhart’s presence.
“Eimhart, how was my movement just now?”
At this moment, looking at Fisher, who was lying exhausted on the deck, Eimhart, sitting inside the captain’s cabin, wrinkled his brows, his eyes fixed on the instruments and the course, glancing occasionally at the weather outside. Without turning around, he cursed,
“What else could it be? You’ve practiced that one movement hundreds of times! If you can’t get it right, you can jump ship! Damn it, why are you so sharp-minded when it comes to inscribing magic, yet like a block of wood in close combat? Such a waste of your good physique!”
Indeed, Fisher had previously discovered that as long as Eimhart recorded the contents of Eil’s combat techniques, he could accurately identify whether Fisher’s movements and training methods met Eil’s requirements. During this time, aside from his foul language, Eimhart’s input felt like Eil was guiding Fisher’s combat training remotely. His progress was swift.
At this moment, he felt that his physical fitness and combat style pertained to eighth or even ninth rank levels. Even unarmed against an adult Dragon Race or the not-yet-matured Whale Folk Jasmine, he could manage with ease.
Fisher took some time to catch his breath before stepping outside the captain’s cabin to put on his shirt draped over the railing, glancing at Eimhart who was inside keeping watch, he asked,
“Great! Where are we now?”
“We’ve arrived at the Phoenix Sea, wait, dammit, I quit! For the past twenty days, it’s been me alone here watching the instruments, confirming the course, while you bounce around the deck like a monkey, claiming it’s combat training but looking terrible! I’m done! What do you want? Let go of me!”
Fisher, with a frown, grabbed the foul-mouthed Eimhart in his palm, ignoring his struggles as he moved to the navigation chart, which had a golden compass placed on it, just like the one the old man carried.
“I’ve already set the magic for you; you just need to stay here and keep watch. The Phoenix Strait, it seems we are nearing the Kingdom of Sardinia.”
“Easy for you to say! I’m a book, not your crew member! I need to rest too, you’re more disgusting than the factory owner in your Nali outskirts! You go to sleep and still want me to keep watch! Are you even human?”
Fisher felt a bit guilty as he glanced at the ranting Eimhart. He had thought Eimhart was a relic that didn’t need sleep, perfectly suited to replace him to oversee the ship, but now it seemed he was indeed too unfeeling.
He coughed lightly, patting Eimhart’s bookcover as an apology, his gaze sweeping over the navigation chart towards the Phoenix Strait. From here, traveling north a bit further would reveal the southern coastline of Sardinia. To the northwest of the Northern Region, there were several feudal kingdoms, any of which could be approached. He decided that once they landed, he would sell the Flying Fish for funds and then go search for Valentina.
“Bang!”
At that moment, the door to the captain’s cabin suddenly slammed shut with a loud noise, dispelling Eimhart’s annoyance. Both he and Fisher glanced out the window, spotting not far away the coast that almost completely aligned with the horizon; that was the territory of Sardinia.
What truly altered Fisher’s expression was the sky above the sea. The clouds overhead seemed to be driven by some horrifying force, slowly descending towards the sea.
A frigid wind akin to frost blew in from the depths of the Northern Region, causing the already choppy sea to surge violently. The glass in the captain’s cabin rattled madly with the fierce wind, slowly growing cracks along the glued window frame like tree branches, beautifully reminiscent of snowflakes that symbolize the Northern Region.
Fisher’s pupils constricted, and even Eimhart was frightened enough to hide in his embrace.
“Fisher! The storm from the Northern Region is coming! Damn it, how can it be now? We shouldn’t have been near the coast at this time. It’s all because this old boat has no communication magic; Sardinia must have sent out warnings to nearby vessels, and only this antique is deaf to everything!”
The storm of the Northern Region, Fisher had read about it in books; it was a disaster of immense danger. The specific cause was related to the cold air descending from the snow-capped mountains, but its manifestation in reality was terrifying.
The intense wind nearly lifted Fisher’s Flying Fish right off the water, let alone the ocean it floated upon. The deep blue sea erupted with astonishing destructive power, forming undulating waves that blocked the Flying Fish’s path. In Fisher and Eimhart’s sight, the bow of the ship abruptly tilted upward towards the sky.
More and more cracks appeared on the glass, and the outside wind eagerly pressed against any tiny space above, trying to squeeze in. Fisher tightly held onto Eimhart in his arms to prevent him from falling, while his other hand’s black Fluid Sword slipped and transformed into a silver light that extended out.
“Eimhart, hold on tight.”
“I can’t hold on without hands! Tell yourself to hold onto me!! Otherwise, Sir Book is going to sacrifice himself! Fisher!!!”
“Buzz buzz buzz!”
Fisher’s expression remained calm. He suddenly extended his Fluid Sword, piercing through the ceiling of the captain’s cabin. The Fluid Sword, once through the ceiling, slowly solidified into a claw shape, anchoring Fisher in place.
“Bang!”
“Crack!”
The next moment, the window shattered suddenly, and he was blown uncontrollably upwards by the fierce wind. Gritting his teeth, he tried to control his body’s position, but he inevitably crashed against the bookshelf, causing books to scatter everywhere, with all the items starting to slide backward under the force of gravity.
“Puff puff puff!”
What was worse, from below the ship came a series of intense banging noises, as if countless creatures were fleeing towards the back.
It seemed that the snowstorm from the Northern Region was not only a disaster for land creatures but also for those of the sea.
Unexpectedly, the Flying Fish was made of wood, and due to years of neglect, when it was struck by a fish, it produced a loud crashing sound.
The ship was breaking!
“Fisher! There’s a hole in the bottom of the ship, water is flooding into the cabin! This ship is going to sink!”
“I know.”
Fisher clutched his Fluid Sword tightly. He was trying with all his might to escape the captain’s cabin, but the sinking speed of the Flying Fish exceeded his imagination. Due to the undulating surface, in just a moment, the water surged over the deck toward his captain’s cabin.
He had just finished training, and his strength was insufficient. Even with all his effort, he couldn’t withstand the incoming seawater. He swallowed several mouthfuls of cold seawater but remained clear-headed. He calmly observed the increasing volume of water and then, gritting his teeth, he took a deep breath and withdrew the Fluid Sword.
The sudden influx of water into the cabin pushed his body backwards, but he used that force to reach the end of the captain’s cabin. He pushed off the wall with both feet, launching himself out of the cabin like a nimble fish.
However, what greeted him was not safety or relief, but the bone-chilling gusts and the ocean.
This situation was entirely a double-edged sword. The structure of the Flying Fish was too fragile to withstand the storm and would soon disintegrate, and coming out would be the same. He had originally planned to submerge in the water to evade the storm, as he could breathe underwater. Once inside, hiding until the storm passed before swimming to Sardinia would be no issue.
However, Fisher, being a Nali person, had never experienced the true storms of the Northern Region. The only memory he had was a simple conclusion from textbooks that stated, “The frost pierces to the bone, the wind is urgent, and the sea surges.” He had only just experienced the latter half, thus forgetting the meaning of the first part.
Just as he emerged from the cabin, a chill wind rushed straight at him, the seemingly boundless sea began to slowly crystallize and erupt with cold whiteness under the icy winds from the mountains. Yes, the entire ocean seemed to be solidifying at that moment.
Wrapped in seawater, Fisher sensed a life-threatening danger. In his shocked vision, the water surrounding him abruptly came to a halt, entirely enveloping his body in ice, rendering the air he could breathe and the space to move negligible.
At this rate, he would either freeze to death or suffocate.
Fisher refused to sit idly by. Just as the frost was about to cover his face, a ring in his hand suddenly erupted with a deep purple light, a bizarre wave of magic pushed back against the world’s resonance, stalling the advance of the cold frost around him.
In that purple glow, the ring of [Gravity] stood out prominently; it was the magical ring seized from the Nali Exploration Company on Pat Sulshen Island.
Eight-ring gravity magic, [Gravity Heaven Ring]!
With the world’s resonance shaken, the gravity in this realm suddenly reversed, countless invisible forces propelled the already-solidified sea surface skyward, even the incessant cold wind was temporarily halted by this peculiar power.
However, the power of an eight-ring magic was still insufficient against the destructive force of natural disasters. The cold wind seeped into the gaps of the Gravity Heaven Ring, disturbing the power of the world’s resonance. Nevertheless, even just a moment’s time was enough for Fisher.
He gritted his teeth, exerting his last strength to dispel the icy shell surrounding him. Amidst the cold winds and gales rushing back into his ears, Fisher regained his freedom, temporarily escaping from the fate of being frozen to death.
His body fell feebly towards the dark sea, and the surface of the ocean unfolded like a massive bloodthirsty mouth wide open for him. Amidst countless furious winds and coldness, he fell faster and faster, his vision fading to darkness.
“Fisher! Fisher! Stay awake!”
Eimhart’s voice reached him, prompting him to tighten his teeth and adjust his falling position in mid-air to land safely into the freezing ocean.
Fisher weakly lifted his head in the water and looked towards the coastline.
He had to swim to the Kingdom of Sardinia through the storm all by himself.
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(End of Chapter)
