In the dead-silent night, beneath the sweeping gaze of the searchlights, only faint white mist could be illuminated.
The seawater writhed like a monster, endlessly stroking the hull, licking at its prey with hungry desire, stirring up waves of hair-raising sounds.
Sailing at night was like voyaging through hell.
However grand and magnificent the sight was by day, it was just as gloomy, terrifying, and oppressive by night.
Yet bonfires had been lit on the deck, and everything was jubilant.
The chopped-up furniture had been piled together and doused in gasoline, flames blazing high and bright, illuminating one dark face after another, all brimming with delight.
It was like a carnival.
Those men carrying guns sang joyfully. Food scavenged from the Ship's cabin—snacks, raw meat, flour—had all been scattered into piles, stuffed into pockets, then stuffed into mouths.
Some held their jewelry up to the firelight, distinguishing gold from silver. Others fought over electronic products they had never seen before, clicking their tongues in amazement.
It was as though the New Year had arrived.
Gifts and offerings had fallen from the sky, so lavishly bestowed.
Amid the surging firelight, their shadows were cast into the hazy mist, outlining strange silhouettes, like writhing monsters dancing with flailing limbs.
Everything was merry.
But below the deck, in the wrecked Ship's cabin, it was like a prison.
There was only weeping and groaning.
Wailing and prayer.
Drip, drip, drip...
Blood dripped through the gaps between fingers.
A penetrating wound. Blood gushed like a fountain, continuously spraying out and dyeing the white coat, torn into strips for bandages and stuffed against the wound, scarlet.
Among the wolfish prisoners, the man lying on the ground was already at death's door.
"Doctor Yu, don't waste your effort."
The gaunt captain lowered his eyes, watching the dying