Chapter 3 A Fine Morning

The morning of the third day finally cleared up, with dazzling sunlight, pristine white beaches, lush green coconut trees, and azure skies. This was the most beautiful side of the Caribbean Sea. However, everyone in Tortuga Castle was trembling under the thunderous rage of Lord Fogg, with no appreciation for the scenery. All they knew was that the Lady Fogg had been missing for three full days, and she was likely suffering on Isla de la Juventud. Therefore, Tortuga Castle had dispatched its fastest three-masted sailing ship to sail directly there early in the morning.

That morning, Fang Senyan naturally continued to practice his footwork with Blind Bart. Unfortunately, his hard work that morning failed to raise his basic footwork by another level. But his mind wasn't really on that. Before noon, the three-masted sailing ship that had been sent out returned, riding the waves. However, a black flag had been raised at the top of the mast.

This flag was called the mourning flag, indicating the death of an important figure. But pirates were used to life and death. As for who constituted an important figure on board, that was rather vague. It could be the first mate, the captain, or even the boatswain or navigator! Unexpected events could happen at sea every day. A black flag was a common sight, and hardly anyone would associate this flag of death and mourning with the noble Lady Fogg.

At this moment, Tortuga Castle was filled with an extremely tense atmosphere. Almost all the servants were trembling with fear of making the slightest mistake. Since Lady Fogg had not returned with the ship, Lord Fogg, whose personality was already cold and eccentric, had become even more brutal, often venting his anger on the servants. More than ten bodies had been carried out of the castle in the past three days, all of whom had died from being flogged to death. And they had all met such a tragic fate for minor matters such as breaking a plate or cutting the bread too thin. Now, no one could be seen within ten meters of Lord Fogg. Even when these trembling, pitiful servants needed to approach the lord for unavoidable tasks, they would leave quickly after completing them.

After the three-masted sailing ship belonging to Tortuga Castle docked, someone went to inform Lord Fogg. Then, a body wrapped in linen was carried off the ship. On the thick shroud, there were clear, soaked marks. Obviously, in the tropical marine climate of the Caribbean Sea, the body had already decayed and leaked fluids. Therefore, the faces of those carrying the body were quite unsightly, and they looked as if they were about to vomit at any moment.

The body was quickly carried into a spacious hall on the third floor of the castle, which was also Lord Fogg's private space. Usually, servants who entered here without permission would meet a tragic end. The two sailors placed the body in the center of the hall and hurriedly retreated. Judging from their shriveled faces, the vomit was already surging in their throats, as if boiling, but they were persevering with great willpower to avoid throwing up on the spot.

All around was silent.

It inexplicably brought to mind a tomb.

A fly, attracted by the stench of the corpse, buzzed in from the window. Its life plan was obviously to have a good meal first, then lay hundreds of eggs on this nutritious food, and then have fun everywhere. But as it approached the shroud, its wings, which could vibrate more than three hundred times per second, suddenly froze. The abundant moisture in the air of Tortuga Harbor gathered from all directions in an instant, forming a crystal-clear ice cube that froze the fly in mid-air, and then it fell to the floor with normal gravitational acceleration.

The small ice cube was as fragile as a thin glass, and it shattered with a crack. Of course, the fate of the fly frozen inside was also predictable.

At this time, a hand wearing a black leather glove pushed open the door. Little Lord Fogg, with a stubbled beard, walked in. He looked disheveled and decadent. If it weren't for his expensive hunting attire, he would look no different from the vagrants commonly seen in Tortuga Harbor. However, a crazy and dangerous light flashed in his eyes, which was definitely not a good sign.

"No one has the right to touch her except me." Little Lord Fogg placed his left hand on his chest with impeccable noble elegance. He bowed slightly to the place where the fly had fallen.

"Not even a fly."

Then, the lord knelt beside the body and reached out to slowly uncover the linen shroud. The thick stench of the corpse immediately spread out. But Little Lord Fogg seemed to not notice it at all. His movements to lift the shroud were very gentle, like a groom lifting his bride's veil, full of tender affection, until the entire body of Sally Hepburn, which had been swollen, rotted, and deformed by the rain, was completely exposed.

"Dear Sally, welcome home." Little Lord Fogg gave the decaying corpse, dripping with cadaveric fluid, a tender and passionate embrace, as if she was still asleep and he was afraid of waking her up. The deep affection in his eyes was as thick as honey. "I want to take you to see your garden. A merchant ship delivered the black tulips you've always wanted yesterday. For that alone, you owe me a kiss, don't you?"

Little Lord Fogg looked affectionately at his wife in his arms. The swollen face and the pungent, nauseating smell seemed to be filtered out by him. The man tightly embraced the corpse in his arms and deeply kissed the lips that had begun to fester, swell, crack, and ooze yellow liquid!

A moment later, everyone in Tortuga Castle heard a painful cry from the third floor! Just hearing the sound, one felt a heart-wrenching pain, like a wolf howling desperately and madly in the frozen wilderness! The sound dominated the castle with irresistible force for nearly fifteen minutes before it stopped.

Then not long after, the current Lord Fogg, reeking of the pungent smell of corpses, reappeared before everyone with a wooden expression, seemingly unchanged. But it was as if the sunlight shining on him had turned gray in an instant. The actual ruler of Tortuga Harbor issued his first order in three days:

"Go and invite the alchemist Master Bacon over! Meet whatever price he asks! The important thing is that I want to see this person within a quarter of an hour! Go now! Immediately!"

It must be admitted that Mr. Bacon, who was satisfied with the money, was quite efficient. Only ten minutes later, Little Lord Fogg's request was fulfilled. A quarter of an hour later, the seemingly old and frail Mr. Bacon had been taken by Little Lord Fogg to the dungeon below the castle.

Obviously, it had been cleaned up beforehand. The imprisoned criminals and the like had also been escorted away, but there was still an indescribable dark and humid atmosphere in the air. Those with a bad nose would probably sneeze several times in a row. After entering the second level of the dungeon, a wave of cold air emanated from the ground underfoot, penetrating directly into the lungs, as if even the bone marrow was about to freeze. Mr. Bacon muttered a few words, then magically took out a round, long-necked glass bottle from the box he was carrying and drank the light blue liquid inside. He immediately looked radiant.

Little Lord Fogg's pupils contracted slightly after seeing Bacon's actions, but he continued to lead the way forward. He stopped only after entering an extremely spacious underground room. The temperature in this underground room was extremely low. In the center of the underground room was a crystal-clear and wide ice platform, its height just reaching a person's waist. On the ice platform was placed the female corpse that had been fermented for three days in the wind and rain of the Caribbean Sea. Of course, under the low-temperature ice, the smell it emitted had reached an acceptable level.

"Uh... Although it's very impolite to say so, I would still like to ask, is there anything I can do for you?" After tolerating Little Lord Fogg staring at the female corpse for a full ten minutes, Mr. Bacon finally couldn't help but open his mouth.

Little Lord Fogg suddenly turned his head, his eyes burning with madness and rage. Obviously, he didn't like his thoughts being interrupted so forcibly. But that emotion only appeared like a dragonfly skimming the water before quickly disappearing. The master of Tortuga Harbor said with a somewhat dry voice:

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bacon, I haven't been sleeping well these past few days, and I'm a little irritable. Please help me examine this female corpse, find out the cause of her death. Of course, it would be even better if you could identify the murderer. I can pay double for the alchemical materials consumed as a result."

The alchemist Bacon frowned immediately subconsciously when he looked at the female corpse. His wording immediately became quite commercial:

"Noble Lord, Old Bacon is just an alchemist, and this is not my area of expertise... And this female corpse is so badly decomposed... My God, have you finally descended a miracle before me today?"

At some point, a gray-brown leather bag had appeared in the hands of Little Lord Fogg, who was as cold as an iceberg. This bag looked no different from an ordinary bag, but its surface shone with a layer of light, as if clear water was attached to it! This was a very typical high-level alchemical item, and Bacon's agile mind, which was not commensurate with his old appearance, immediately associated this leather bag with a legendary high-level prop. His lips began to tremble violently:

"This, this is... the Endless Gold Pouch?"