The room in the Public Security Bureau was warm and brightly lit. Despite the chaotic situation outside, it maintained an orderly atmosphere—complete with tea and coffee.

"Name?"

"Lawrence Creed."

"Occupation?"

"Captain, captain of the White Oak."

"Affiliated guild?"

"The Explorers' Association. I have a full set of qualifications as a seasoned explorer, including certificates in history, mystics, and nautical-related fields. Also...um, that's it."

"Your reason for coming to Frost?"

Lawrence looked up at the bright electric light above, thinking for a few seconds. "Actually, I came to deliver goods...goods ordered by your city-state's Grand Cathedral."

The young recorder sitting across the table scribbled on the paper, then looked up after a few quick strokes, with a friendly but slightly nervous smile. "Okay, I've noted it. Don't mind me, just a routine record. After all, a trip here always needs a record. Frost is grateful for your assistance—would you like another sugar cube?"

"Ah, no need, thank you." Lawrence waved his hand a little awkwardly, picked up his coffee cup, took a sip, but couldn't taste anything or feel the temperature because he was still in a spectral state, so he put the cup down again and glanced behind him.

The sailors, engulfed in ghost flames, sat in a row on the lounge chairs in the back of the room. These boorish fellows had nearly devoured all the tea and snacks prepared in the office—they didn't mind the loss of taste in their spiritual forms; they were simply indulging themselves based on the principle of "can't lose out on this trip."

They showed no nervousness about being "invited" into the Public Security Bureau for disturbing the peace—which was normal, considering that the security officers had indeed "invited" them in with great politeness, even a hint of nervous respect.

Thinking of this, Lawrence felt another wave of awkwardness, but since his face was shrouded in flames, others probably couldn't see his expression.

"I heard that you initially assisted the gatekeepers in the Cathedral District. Why were you wandering around the Upper City afterward? And causing such a commotion?"

The young recorder across the table asked curiously and cautiously.

"Those were some...minor accidents," Lawrence said with a hint of shame, carefully considering how to explain the complex situation—how should he explain it? Should he say that after leading a group of sailors in a ruckus, he still had too much energy, so he planned to stroll around the city and buy some local specialties to take back to Pland, but because the ghost fire was difficult to control, the flames that had been painstakingly restrained inexplicably "ignited" when the sun rose?

It literally "ignited"—right on the crossroads, in broad daylight.

The Anomaly 077, who had been carefully hiding in the group wearing a robe, was also startled and darted from the sailors into the sidewalk.

The result was that security officer squads from three streets arrived within five minutes, and men and women, young and old, from the Upper City rushed to report.

Lawrence thought for a long time and felt that these real situations were too difficult to say. Mainly, casually saying it might involve "damaging the reputation of the Lost Fleet"—although the Lost Fleet didn't seem to have a good reputation in the mortal world, at least it shouldn't be this kind of reputation.

So he could only smile awkwardly again and casually perfunctory: "We were curious about the city and neglected to conceal our movements for a moment..."

The crackling of flames suddenly sounded, Lawrence casually patted the green flame on his arm, then checked if the armrest of the chair was scorched by the spirit fire, and only after confirming that it was fine did he look up, continuing to look at the young man opposite him with a sincere expression and a smile on his face.

"...Can you temporarily extinguish this terrible flame?"

"I'm trying—though maybe not very obviously."

"...Thank you for your cooperation. You can wait here for a while. I have a few more questions to ask your...subordinates."

The young recorder wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, trying to maintain a calm and friendly expression, then took a deep breath before turning to another figure next to the table—a fellow who looked rather suspicious no matter how you looked at him, who was also waiting for "routine matters."

Wearing an old-fashioned sailor's smock, a seaman's hat that didn't quite fit on his head, and a shriveled, hideous-looking corpse.

Noticing the gaze on himself, the dried corpse immediately raised his head, with a miserable smile on his face: "Interrogation? I understand this. Ask away, ask away."

"Um...okay," the recorder wiped the cold sweat from his forehead again, cursing the superior who had arranged for him to be on duty here today in his heart, envying the colleagues who could patrol the streets, while trying to make his tone sound a little calmer, "Name?"

"'Sailor,' that's what I'm called." The dried corpse answered immediately.

"Sailor...um, okay, occupation?"

"Anomaly."

The recorder looked up blankly: "Huh?"

"Anomaly," the dried corpse said honestly, pointing to his shriveled head, "Or in more detail, Anomaly 077."

The recorder seemed to have turned into a statue. After a few seconds, the sound of swallowing could be clearly heard in Lawrence's ears.

"Ahem, there are very complex reasons for this," Lawrence coughed twice. His voice finally awakened the recorder, who was almost in a mental blank, "Don't worry, when the person in charge of your church comes, I will find a way to explain and register clearly."

Listening to the old captain's words, the recorder still seemed to be in a daze. The expression on his face changed rapidly several times before he opened his mouth, seeming to want to say something, but before he could speak, a whirlwind wrapped in pale smoke suddenly swept through the office—

The gray wind spun, and a blind priestess in a black dress walked out of the wind, followed by a slightly ethereal and hoarse female voice: "I have arrived."

The recorder, who was almost at the limit of his nerves, even with his sanity beginning to crumble, immediately seemed to have grasped a life-saving straw, and almost "bounced" up from his chair: "Ah, Ms. Agatha! You're finally here! The situation here is a bit..."

"I know, the situation is complicated, so I came to handle it myself," Agatha waved her hand before the unlucky recorder could finish, then turned to Lawrence, her pale lips slightly upturned, but her tone was a little strange, "I thought you had already left."

"We originally wanted to leave..." Lawrence said with a dry smile, but the tense nerves in his heart couldn't help but relax a little—no matter what, he had fought side by side with this "gatekeeper" lady before. Although the whole process was filled with chaos, weirdness, evil, and countless emergencies, at least one thing was certain: everyone was "the same kind of people."

Agatha opposite seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. She waved her hand to the recorder beside her, indicating that he could leave. The young man was immediately pardoned and fled the office, which contained very few people.

Then Agatha sighed again, as if with deep helplessness and fatigue, indicating that Captain Lawrence and his party should be calm, before concentrating her mind and saying in her mind: "I've found them. They're all at the Public Security Bureau...Situation? The situation is very good, and their appetite seems very good...Yes, I understand. I'll take care of the aftermath later...Don't worry, they didn't cause much trouble themselves, just a little bit of public panic. You know, everyone is very nervous now...

"There's also something else to report to you. There's an out-of-control anomaly...Yes, an out-of-control anomaly, number 077, named 'Sailor.' This dried corpse is acting with them...

"Let them go to you? I understand. To Oak Street...Ah, okay, understood."

After a long time, Agatha lightly breathed a sigh of relief and looked up at Captain Lawrence.

Although black cloth covered her eyes, there still seemed to be a substantial gaze penetrating the thick strips of cloth, making the old captain feel a little pressure.

The latter vaguely reacted: "You were just talking to 'him'?"

"Yes, and he has orders," Agatha nodded, her expression becoming serious, "He wants you to see him."

"See him?" Lawrence's heart skipped a beat, and his tone couldn't help but have a hint of nervousness, "You mean..."

"The Lost Ship is currently staying in the outer sea of Frost. Captain Tirian will tell you the approximate location—the Sea Mist and your White Oak are now docked in the same port. You can see it when you get to the dock," Agatha said lightly, "Go to the outer sea to find him. Don't worry about missing it. When you get close, your ship will know what to do. Just let it sail on its own."

Lawrence swallowed subconsciously, looking at the sailors he had brought, who also stood up, each gaze showing obvious nervousness.

He turned his head to look beside him and saw Anomaly 077, who was crawling on the ground, inching towards the door.

Several sailors swarmed up, dragging him back despite the dried corpse's violent struggles.

Lawrence slowly withdrew his gaze from the chaos, looking at Agatha in front of him with apprehension.

"Did he...say what he wants us for?"

"No, but he said it was just a friendly invitation, so don't be too nervous..."

As soon as she finished speaking, before Lawrence could open his mouth, Anomaly 077, under the control of several sailors, howled and jumped: "I! Don't! Believe! It!!"

"Shut him up," Lawrence turned his head and shouted, then took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his breath, before nodding gently to Agatha, "I understand. I will go to the appointment."

"Relax, you really don't need to be nervous," Agatha smiled when she saw this, "Actually...he really is a more peaceful and friendly existence than anyone imagines."

"I know," Lawrence spread his hands with a wry smile, "But nervousness is not so easy to eliminate. It probably can only change after we go to the appointment and actually meet 'him'."

"Anyway, I wish you all the best," Agatha nodded slightly, then casually asked, "Is there anything else? Although Frost is not in a good situation now, I will help as much as I can."

When Lawrence heard this, he really showed a thoughtful expression, then reached into his arms and groped.

After a moment, he took out a piece of paper from his arms that looked a little illusory and transparent due to the spiritual fire, and handed it to Agatha.

"What is this?"

"This is the list of goods—the goods your Grand Cathedral ordered. They've all been delivered to the port," Lawrence said, with a hint of hesitation in his tone, "Can this order...still be settled?"

Agatha was stunned for a moment.

The gatekeeper of Frost City-State, the temporary archbishop, the "messenger" of the Fire-Snatcher, the resolute and intelligent Ms. Agatha—I never expected this scene.

After a silence of more than ten seconds, the "blind nun" finally nodded, as if gritting her teeth: "...Settle."

(End of this chapter)