Chapter 1 Turning Fish into Lunch Is No Easy Task

It wasn't easy turning such a huge fish into lunch.

This was not only a technical job, but even a physical one.

Fortunately, Duncan was driven by both the sense of mission of a fisherman and the enthusiasm for improving the food, allowing him to deal with the big fish he caught today with full motivation.

He busied himself in the kitchen for a long time, finally managing to dismantle the bone spurs on the ugly monster fish's head, and stumbled to divide its fat body into several pieces. The fish head didn't have much meat, so he temporarily threw it aside. The belly and back of the fish had some parts with good meat quality, which were very suitable for becoming ingredients on the Sea Wanderer.

It seemed a little strange for the captain to be busy in the kitchen himself, but Duncan was quite enjoying it—he just didn't know what the reaction would be if those ordinary people who feared the Sea Wanderer like a natural disaster saw this scene. Would they be amazed that the terrifying ghost captain also had such an approachable and life-like side, or would they first admire Duncan's excellent fishing skills?

While cutting the monster fish into pieces, Duncan suddenly thought of this question. In a good mood, he couldn't help but smile, wondering if one day he would friendly invite some people to visit the ship—the Sea Wanderer would not always be synonymous with disaster, and he didn't intend to be a cold-blooded and ruthless ghost captain. After further understanding of this world, he would naturally integrate with contemporary civilized society.

When that time came, he would serve the guests on board fish.

After completing the simple division, Duncan temporarily put most of the fish into a wooden bucket covered with sea salt, and pushed the heavy wooden bucket into the warehouse deep in the kitchen. He planned to process the smaller fish later, marinating them and drying them on the deck. If everything went well, they would turn into salted fish in the sea breeze.

It was a pity that he couldn't find any liquor on the ship, otherwise he could have more ways to process the fish.

Of course, it was a good thing to have fresh fish to eat every day, but Duncan knew that fishing was always a matter of fate. He had a good harvest today, but he might not always be so lucky in the future—he had to consider how to process and preserve the excess ingredients.

After all, although there were no signs of spoilage in the Sea Wanderer's stock of dried meat and cheese, he couldn't be sure whether this was due to the Sea Wanderer's own special properties or whether those "dried meat" and "cheese" were abnormal. It would not be good if the fish he had managed to catch rotted.

Salted fish was at least better than salted meat from a century ago, even if it was just for a change of pace.

Duncan left the most tender and best-looking parts of the fish, and threw them into the pot with the dried meat to stew—the dried meat played the role of seasoning in this process.

This was a waste of resources. Any real chef would have their blood pressure burst through their skull instantly after seeing Duncan's operation. The most suitable way to cook these tender fish was to make sashimi, followed by moderate frying and grilling—Duncan himself knew this, but he did it for safety.

He didn't dare to eat unknown things caught from the sea raw, although in theory, sea fish wouldn't carry parasites harmful to the human body, and his "ghost captain" shouldn't be afraid of ordinary poisons, but what if?

In comparison, stewing was the most effective processing plan for dealing with unfamiliar ingredients.

He wanted to try it this way first, and if he confirmed that the fish was really edible, he would consider other methods.

It was almost mid-afternoon when his belated "lunch" was finally completed.

A bowl of fish soup was served, and the delicious taste made Duncan's appetite increase greatly, but before that, he cautiously forked a piece of fish, blew it cool, and placed it in front of the pigeon A Yi.

Of course, pigeons don't eat meat—but it's hard to say that "A Yi" is a normal pigeon.

Duncan needed to satisfy his curiosity. On the Sea Wanderer, he had too many things to try.

As for what to do if this "abnormal pigeon" was really poisoned after eating the fish... Duncan was actually prepared.

First of all, he had processed the ingredients as much as possible, and letting the pigeon try it was just a formality. Secondly, if A Yi's condition was really not right, he could immediately pull it into the spirit state with green fire—he had tried it before, and the feedback from A Yi in the spirit state was the same as that from the brass compass, equivalent to an "item" controlled by the fire of the spirit. He could even decompose and reorganize the spirit A Yi and transmit it to a designated location next to him. In this case, ordinary toxins would certainly not take effect.

A Yi tilted its head and looked at Duncan's operation. After confirming that the fish was for it, it first pecked at the table next to it with its beak, and its eyes looked at Duncan and the ceiling erratically: "Is your melon ripe?"

Duncan: "Just tell me if you're going to eat it or not."

A Yi raised its wings and imitated Duncan's tone: "Just tell me if you're going to eat it or not!"

Then it lowered its head and quickly pecked at the cooled fish, and at an amazing speed, it eliminated the food that didn't look like it was for a pigeon!

After eating, A Yi stretched its neck hard, and then walked arrogantly on the table. It seemed to become very happy, and after circling around, it returned to Duncan and babbled loudly: "So fragrant! So fragrant!"

Duncan stared at the pigeon dumbfounded. He suddenly had a feeling—this thing now combines "pigeon, so fragrant, and repeater"!

With all three elements in place, it's simply the light of humanity (Earth). If you divide it according to the free nine-square grid, this thing might be considered an earthling...

After a while, Duncan confirmed that the pigeon had no abnormal reactions, and then he was completely relieved.

The captain of the Sea Wanderer and his pet hid in the kitchen and devoured the food.

The fish was indeed very fragrant, just like Duncan had seen in his dream.

…

The setting sun was gradually approaching the high walls on the edge of the city, and the towering chimneys, pipes, and towers of the Pland city-state were gradually bathed in a pale golden light.

In the central area of the city, the loud sound of the great bell rang from the highlands where the Storm Cathedral was located, accompanied by the sharp roar of steam rushing out of the pressure relief valve. A large cloud of white mist spewed out from the top of the tower on the side of the church, covering the sky above the highlands like clouds, refracting the golden sunlight from the sea.

This was the signal representing the alternation of day and night—a reminder that the power of the sun was about to rapidly fade and the World Wound was about to dominate the sky.

The order of the mortal world would shift from stability to shaking after this, and the influence from the "deep layers" of the world would rapidly intensify with the coming of night. This process would continue until the sun rose the next day.

In the night, cautious people would choose to stay at home, and those who had to go out should try to stay in brightly lit places—gas lamps blessed by the clergy could maximize the dispelling of malice in the night.

But in any case, this was at least a prosperous and stable metropolis. Under the protection of the sacred Storm Cathedral, even the deepest influences of the world would be suppressed to a safe critical point. The abnormal phenomena that occasionally appeared in the city were just harmless minor problems. Ordinary citizens knew how to ensure the safety of their homes, and the church guards patrolling at night took over the work of the magistrates, ensuring the order of the city after nightfall.

But just like there were always shadows that could not be illuminated under the brightest street lights—even under the eyes of the church's guards, there were always fools who yearned for darkness and subversion. They feared and hated the existing order in the world, and fanatically looked forward to a "better era" that even they themselves had never seen.

Fortunately, in the city-states where the forces of order dominated, these subversives could only huddle in the shadows most of the time.

On the edge of the city-state, deep in the entrance of an abandoned sewer, several figures in black robes were huddled in the corner of a room.

This used to be a room for the maintenance and management personnel of the sewer to rest temporarily, but now it had been forgotten due to changes in urban planning. The unattended corner had become a haven for cultists after their hasty escape—a dim oil lamp was hung on the wall, and the flickering light illuminated several gloomy, fearful, and resentful faces.

A man in a black robe, around thirty years old, was lying on a makeshift bed made of rags, clenching his teeth, his face pale, his breathing weak and chaotic. The others were sitting near him, and someone was cursing in a low voice: "Those damn church hyenas..."

"We lost a lot of comrades, and the emissary died in the ritual..." another person said in a hoarse voice, "How could the sacred ritual suddenly lose control..."

"That sacrifice... it was obviously because of that sacrifice, he was obviously the minion of a heretic..."

"Listen," a black-robed man suddenly made a listening gesture, and pointed upwards, "It's the sound of the evening bell and the steam whistle."

"...Night is coming," the black-robed man who spoke first said in a low voice, and glanced uneasily at the "comrade" who was lying on the makeshift bed, obviously in extremely poor condition, "Damn... I hope he can survive tonight..."