For a long time, Lawrence had felt trapped in a cage—he was more aware than anyone of what was happening to him, of the changes in his mental state.
He knew Martha was gone, knew that the figure he spent day and night with was just an illusion. He knew all of this—both subconsciously and consciously, he was perfectly aware.
But compared to other captains of similar age and experience, his mental state was actually quite good. In the vast, boundless sea, there was no shortage of captains with twisted minds and damaged intellects. Even with the support of the ship's chaplain, the profession of challenging the sea was destined to endure far more mental pollution than ordinary crew members. Every captain completed voyage after voyage while battling their own deteriorating sanity, to the point where captains often used a single phrase to describe their profession.
But it was precisely because of years of mental distress that Lawrence had an exceptionally keen awareness of the spiritual world. At this very moment, he had keenly sensed that the figure before him was definitely not the same kind of illusion he had seen before.
He couldn't help but recall the one that had appeared on the white oak deck earlier. Had the first mate Gus seen the changes in that figure since then?
Had all of this finally crossed some kind of threshold? Had something from his imagination… finally come to reality? Or had some unspeakable force read his mind and created this actually existing being before him? Was this a malicious gift? Or a trap full of mockery?
Lawrence finally opened his mouth, feeling his throat was a little dry, and even his voice was hoarse.
The female adventurer smiled.
Lawrence took a light breath, restraining his urge to step forward.
Martha gently shook her head.
Lawrence paused slightly.
Lawrence's eyes widened. He suddenly realized that the vortex he was in seemed even more treacherous and terrifying than he had imagined.
Martha said with a calm expression.
Lawrence seemed to be in a daze. After a long time, he suddenly woke up and looked at the figure before him in disbelief.
Martha didn't speak, but simply watched Lawrence quietly with a calm and meaningful smile.
The latter stopped speaking and gradually reacted. He lowered his head, looking at his body that was still as ghostly and transparent as a phantom, and the ghostly green flames burning quietly on his body.
The appearance of the Black Oak was after the White Oak was completed in the spirit fire.
Martha said softly.
Lawrence listened blankly, feeling a little dazed. Then, his expression changed slightly, and he realized the incongruity in the last few words the other party had said—that wasn't something the Martha who had left him forever decades ago should know!
Why would she know about the Lost Ship? Why would she know the White Oak belonged to Captain Duncan?
Lawrence's eyes widened suddenly, and the muscles in his body tensed subconsciously.
However, the figure standing not far away was just smiling, as if she didn't care about Lawrence's reaction at all. This calmness was the same as decades ago: "If what you want is a one hundred percent accurate and 'pure' Martha, I'm sorry, Lawrence, I'm really not her—but 'she' is a part of me. Martha's soul is inside me, and the other part of me comes from your consciousness and memory… This sea area is like a mirror, constantly reflecting everything that floats on its surface, and that naturally includes consciousness and memory."