When Day and Night Alternate

Preparing a fish that large for lunch was no easy feat.

It wasn't just a matter of skill; it was also a matter of strength.

Fortunately, Duncan was driven by a fisherman's sense of duty and his own enthusiasm for a better meal, which fueled him to tackle the massive fish he'd caught today.

He spent a long time in the kitchen, finally managing to remove the bone spurs from the ugly, monstrous fish's head. He then fumbled his way through dividing its plump body into several pieces. The fish's head had very little meat, so he set it aside for the moment. However, the belly and back had some excellent cuts, perfect for becoming ingredients aboard the Lost Homeland.

It might have seemed a bit odd for the esteemed Captain to be busy in the kitchen, but Duncan was thoroughly enjoying himself. He wondered what the reactions of ordinary people, who viewed the Lost Homeland as a disaster akin to a natural calamity, would be if they saw this scene. Would they be astonished that the terrifying Ghost Captain also had such an approachable and domestic side, or would they first praise Duncan's superb fishing skills?

While dividing the fish meat into pieces, Duncan suddenly pondered this question. In his good mood, he couldn't help but laugh, thinking that perhaps one day, he might even invite some people aboard as guests. The Lost Homeland wouldn't always be synonymous with disaster, and he himself didn't intend to be a cold-blooded, heartless Ghost Captain. After gaining a deeper understanding of this world, he naturally would integrate himself with contemporary civilized society.

When that time came, he would treat his guests to fish.

After the simple division, Duncan temporarily stored most of the fish meat in wooden barrels lined with sea salt. He then pushed the heavy barrels into the depths of the kitchen's storeroom. He planned to process the smaller fish later, intending to salt and dry them on deck. If all went well, they would become dried salted fish in the sea breeze.

It was a shame he couldn't find any strong liquor on board; otherwise, he could have used it to process the fish in other ways.

While having fresh fish every day was certainly a good thing, Duncan knew that fishing was always a matter of chance. He had a bountiful catch today, but it wasn't guaranteed for the future. He had to consider how to process and preserve the surplus ingredients.

After all, although the preserved meat and cheese stored on the Lost Homeland showed no signs of spoilage, he couldn't be sure if it was due to the Lost Homeland's unique properties or if those "preserved meats" and "cheeses" were themselves anomalies. It wouldn't be good to let the fish he worked so hard to catch go to waste.

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

Duncan set aside the freshest, best-looking parts and threw them into the pot with the preserved meat to stew. The preserved meat acted as a seasoning during this process.

This was a wasteful approach. Any true chef would have their blood pressure skyrocket upon seeing Duncan's methods. The most suitable way to prepare this tender fish meat would be as sashimi, or at the very least, moderate pan-frying or grilling. Duncan knew this himself, but he was doing it for safety.

He didn't dare to casually eat something he caught from the sea that he didn't recognize raw. Although, theoretically, sea fish wouldn't carry parasites harmful to humans, and he, as a "Ghost Captain," shouldn't be afraid of ordinary poisons, but what if?

In comparison, stewing was the most effective processing method for unfamiliar ingredients.

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

As it was almost mid-afternoon, his belated "lunch" was finally ready.

A bowl of fish soup was served, its delicious aroma whetting Duncan's appetite. However, before that, he cautiously picked up a piece of fish, let it cool, and placed it in front of the pigeon, Ai Yi.

Pigeons naturally didn't eat meat, but "Ai Yi" was hardly a normal pigeon.

Duncan needed to satisfy his curiosity. There were so many things he needed to try on the Lost Homeland.

As for what would happen if this "anomalous pigeon" actually got poisoned after eating the fish... Duncan was prepared.

Firstly, he had processed the ingredients as much as possible. Letting the pigeon try it was just a formality. Secondly, if Ai Yi's condition turned for the worse, he could immediately pull it into a spiritual body state with the green fire. He had tried it before: Ai Yi in its spiritual body state, according to the feedback from the brass compass, was equivalent to an "item" controlled by the Spirit Body Fire. He could even decompose, reassemble, and teleport the spiritual body Ai Yi to a designated location near him. In such a state, ordinary toxins would certainly not be effective.

Ai Yi tilted its head, watching Duncan's actions. After confirming that the piece of fish was for it, it first pecked at the table beside him with its beak. Its eyes darted between Duncan and the ceiling, asking, "Is this melon ripe?"

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

Ai Yi flapped its wings and mimicked 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 meat, devouring the food that clearly wasn't meant for a pigeon with astonishing speed!

After finishing, Ai Yi stretched its neck vigorously and then strutted proudly on the table. It seemed to become very happy. After walking in a circle, it returned to Duncan and loudly declared, "So fragrant! So fragrant!"

Duncan stared at the pigeon, dumbfounded. For some reason, a thought suddenly popped into his mind—this guy was now a combination of "pigeon, truly fragrant, and repeater"!

With all three key elements present, it was practically the pride of humanity (Earth). If you were to categorize it according to the freedom of form in a nine-grid chart, this fellow might even be considered an Earthling...

After a while, Duncan confirmed that the pigeon showed no abnormal reactions, and he finally felt completely at ease.

The Captain of the Lost Homeland and his pet were thus hiding in the kitchen, feasting on their meal.

The fish was indeed fragrant, just as Duncan had seen in his dreams.

The sun was gradually approaching the high walls at the city's edge. The tall chimneys, pipes, and towers of the Pland City-State were bathed in a faint golden glow.

In the city's central area, a resounding clang of a large bell echoed from the highlands where the Storm Cathedral stood. This was accompanied by the sharp hiss of steam escaping a pressure relief valve, and a large cloud of white mist erupted from the top of a tower on the cathedral's flank, enveloping the sky above the highlands like rosy clouds and refracting the golden sunlight from the sea.

This was the signal for the transition between day and night—a reminder that the Sun's power was about to rapidly wane, and World's Creation would soon dominate the sky.

The order of the mortal world would then shift from stability to upheaval. The influence from the "deeper" parts of the world would rapidly strengthen with the onset of night, a process that would continue until the sun rose the next day.

In the darkness, cautious individuals would choose to stay home. Those who had to go out would try to stay in well-lit areas—gas lamps blessed by the clergy could maximally dispel the malice in the night.

But regardless, this was at least a prosperous and stable major city-state. Under the protection of the sacred Storm Cathedral, even the deepest influences of the world would be suppressed to a safe critical point. The occasional anomalous phenomena in the city were merely harmless minor issues. Ordinary citizens knew how to ensure their safety within their homes, and there were even church guards patrolling at night, taking over the duties of the peacekeepers to ensure order in the city after nightfall.

However, just as even the brightest streetlights cast shadows—even under the watchful eyes of the church guards, there were always foolish individuals who yearned for darkness and subversion. They feared and hated the existing order of the world, and in their fervor, they anticipated a "better era" that they themselves had never seen.

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

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

This had once been a resting room for sewer maintenance personnel, but it had now been forgotten due to changes in urban planning. The unattended corner had become a refuge for cultists fleeing in panic. A dim oil lamp hung on the wall, its flickering light illuminating several gloomy, fearful, and resentful faces.

A black-robed figure, around thirty years old, lay on a makeshift bed of rags, gritting his teeth, his face pale, his breathing weak and chaotic. The others sat near him, some muttering curses, "Those damned church hyenas..."

"We lost a large number of our brethren, and the Emissary died during the ritual..." another said hoarsely. "How could the sacred ritual suddenly lose control..."

"That sacrifice... it was clearly because of that sacrifice. He was clearly a minion of heresy."

"Listen," a black-robed figure suddenly cupped a hand to his ear and pointed upwards, "that's the sound of the Dusk Bell and the steam whistle."

"...Night is about to fall," the first black-robed figure who had cursed said in a low voice, glancing uneasily at the "compatriot" lying on the makeshift bed, who was clearly in a terrible state. "Damn it... I hope he can make it through tonight..."