Chapter 174 Support

Amidst the roar of artillery fire, a bizarre, twin-hulled ghost ship cut across the battlefield in this manner, brazenly rushing through the fray under the very noses of the combatants. Not just on the *Sea Fog*, but Tylean even felt that the "knock-off" warships in the deep fog had been stunned for a few seconds.

Then, he heard Aiden's voice from the side, "Captain... Captain, the one that just went past seemed to come from the fog as well. Should we... engage?"

On the bridge, pairs of eyes turned to their captain, as his words from the previous moment still lingered in everyone's minds:

After the start of the war, everything new that appeared in this sea area was the enemy.

"...Engage my ass!" After a few seconds of awkward silence, Tylean finally glared and roared, "Could we even catch up?! And didn't you see the shadow of that ship in the sea?"

Aiden shrank his neck, a glint of light flashing across his bald head. He hesitated, "I saw it. That shadow... seemed to be entwined with spirit fire."

As the first mate's voice fell, a deep rumble came from the depths of the *Sea Fog*'s hull, and at the same time, the steam whistle above the deck suddenly blared—the former flagship of the Forsaken Fleet, transformed by supernatural power, seemed to be responding spontaneously, confirming the first mate's judgment.

"The ship feels it too," Aiden looked up and around, a complex expression on his face as he looked at Tylean. "Captain, what do you think that ship was?"

"...Perhaps it's Father's arrangement," Tylean said solemnly. "Don't delve too deeply. Continue the battle. Also, notify all friendly forces, including the Frost Navy, not to intercept that strange... Forget it, given that speed..."

He was halfway through his sentence when the sailor monitoring the radio suddenly received a message, then stood up and reported loudly: "Captain! The Frost Navy's *Seahawk* is contacting us, saying a ghost ship of bizarre appearance and incredible speed just rushed past them, heading straight for the Frost mainland. They're asking if it's one of ours."

Tylean pinched his brow hard, and after a moment, waved his hand. "Don't mention the Forsaken Fleet to them. Just say it's a friendly ship, no further explanation. Once the battle is a bit more stable, I'll confirm the situation with 'Him'."

"Yes, Captain!"

The cannons roared, and the fire and explosions in the fog did not subside due to this brief interlude. Between the towering columns of water rising in the distance, Tylean's pensive gaze pierced through the dense fog of the combat zone, silently watching the direction in which the strange ship had departed.

"I think we just hit something!"

Lawrence hurried back to his desk from the porthole, loudly addressing the small mirror placed on it. Then, he looked uneasily outside, seeing the sea outside the porthole dim and hazy, as if countless shadowy, illusory things were floating on the surface, making it impossible to distinguish between reality and illusion.

And the *White Oak* itself was traveling through those illusions at an astonishing speed.

A cloud of black mist surged in the mirror, and the female adventurer in her captain's uniform appeared in the mist.

"We didn't hit anything," Martha said with a cheerful smile. "We just almost hit something."

"Almost hitting is already terrifying!" Lawrence picked up the small mirror and said quickly as he walked towards the window. "I didn't notice it when there were no reference points—what speed are we even going at now?!"

"Very fast, very, very fast—an intangible and immaterial phantom, able to cross the waves like the wind," Martha said with a smile, looking at Lawrence's eyes through the mirror. "Do you remember what you told me many years ago? You said you would transform the *White Oak* and the *Black Oak* into the finest vanguard exploration ships, and then together with me, we would sweep across the sea like the wind... My love, we are at least at level seven or eight."

"That was a metaphor! A metaphor!" Lawrence's eyes were filled with a hint of horror, because as he spoke, he watched as another massive phantom almost brushed past the porthole in front of him, heading towards the rear. The phantom had a towering bridge, and the turrets on the side of the hull were pointing into the distance. It was engaged in a fierce battle with enemies in another dimension, and the *White Oak-Black Oak* seemed to have rushed straight through the muzzle of its main gun.

After a moment, Lawrence raised his hand and tapped his forehead, sighing, "Alright, as long as you can guarantee safety. What's the situation outside right now?"

"We are crossing a war zone," Martha said in a gentle and calm tone.

"War zone? Who's fighting?"

Martha in the mirror turned her head, seemingly observing the situation on her side, and then turned back her gaze. "The Frost Navy of the real world, and that famous Sea Fog Fleet, and their opponents are the knock-offs that have risen from the mirror world into the real world."

Lawrence's heart sank, and his expression became serious. "...The final moment has arrived?"

"It seems so," Martha said softly. "The mirror is merging with the real world. The final 'inversion' process has begun."

"Why so fast? Didn't you say this process wouldn't be so early?"

"I can only make general predictions, Lawrence—after breaking away from the ranks of the knock-offs, the connection between me and this mirror world is rapidly weakening. I don't know what happened, but it's clear that someone has consciously accelerated the process of mirror inversion..."

Lawrence didn't speak for a moment, just looking out the window, at the hazy and chaotic sea and the constantly passing ethereal phantoms. After a few seconds, he suddenly asked, "Are we still sailing in the mirror sea?"

"Yes, we are still trapped in this mirror world," Martha nodded. "But the barrier between the mirror and the real world is blurring—we don't have much time left."

"If the inversion really completes, what will happen?" Lawrence asked.

"A city-state becomes a breeding ground for the descent of an ancient god. What do you think will happen?" Martha asked back with a calm expression.

Lawrence instinctively pressed his temples.

"...Damn it, how far are we from Frost?"

"We're almost there," Martha raised her hand in the mirror, pointing out the window. "I can already see the lights of the port area on my side. Countless ships are gathering in the surrounding waters, the shipwrecks of the past half-century, countless duplicates—but they are ignoring the *Black Oak*, at least for now."

Lawrence nodded with a serious expression. He picked up the mirror he used to talk to Martha, pushed open the door and left his captain's cabin, and asked in a deep voice as he walked towards the bridge, "Once we reach Frost, what do you need me to do?"

"Find their lair—the power used to create and maintain this mirror world is deep within Frost. I can sense its approximate location," the smile that Martha always wore on her face turned serious, and she looked into Lawrence's eyes, her tone particularly earnest. "And once you start looking for it, the knock-offs entrenched around the city-state should react immediately. I'll find a way to hold them back."

"...Can we handle it with just the *Black Oak* and *White Oak*? You just said there are countless ships gathering..."

"We are members of the Forsaken Fleet, Lawrence," Martha had a hint of a smile on her lips again. "And we are not the only ones participating in this battle."

Lawrence quickly reacted and looked thoughtfully out the corridor window.

Those shadowy and massive ship silhouettes were fighting on the distant sea. As time passed, the boundary between the mirror and reality was further blurring. Soon, this entire sea area, including Mirror Frost and Real Frost, would be set ablaze.

"I understand," Lawrence nodded, withdrew his gaze from the window, and continued to walk quickly towards the bridge. "But there's one last question. I can lead a team into Frost, but how are we going to deal with that... thing deep in the city-state? If it's truly as you say, an ancient god or part of an ancient god, then ordinary weapons might not be effective."

The bridge had arrived.

Lawrence steadied himself and pushed open the door.

His first mate, second mate, the ship's priest, his crew, were all waiting for him here.

There was also that strange and peculiar Anomaly 077-Sailor—the dried corpse had found a crew hat from the *White Oak* somewhere and was wearing it on its head. At this moment, it was also sitting on a chair in a decent manner, curiously and attentively studying the work of the other crew members.

Lawrence walked towards them, and the crew members stood up to salute him.

Martha's voice came from the mirror, "You'll have help."

Lawrence was responding to the crew's salute, and when he heard this, he looked at Martha in the mirror in surprise. "Help?"

"Yes, help—for many years, they have been fighting in the depths of this mirror world, trying to break through the door leading to the deepest part of the city-state, but they have never succeeded. Go find them, no need to explain your intentions, they will naturally become your assistance... probably."

"Probably?!"

"Because I'm not sure what kind of existence they are, not sure if they can communicate with people—Lawrence, you know, although I've been wandering here for many years, I haven't had much freedom."

"Okay, I understand, help," Lawrence sighed, and then his tone couldn't help but be curious. "I thought only we were fighting the surrounding 'knock-offs'. I didn't expect there to be others. Who are they?"

"They call themselves... the Queen's Guard."