Judging by the hard-won experience of an old sailor, Yu Lian could basically tell that this ship's original hull had been a rather old-class Xuanli cruise liner.
It was a classic entry-level cruise ship, perfectly suited to customers who desperately wanted to buy a cruise liner and dress themselves up as high society, but whose wallets were, after all, limited in size. Put plainly, they were the top tier of the middle class. They always thought that if they could just put on one more show of power, they could break into the ruling class's circle, so they tended to have a few extra requirements.
And so, cruise liners like the Xuanli had come into being.
Its suitability was about on par with the lousy Xijie 911 from two lifetimes ago, Yu Lian thought.
Of course, though its exterior still retained a hint of its original streamlined, rounded contours, the pirates had long since modified it beyond recognition. The hull was covered in patches of all shapes and sizes, of uncertain design and dubious origin, some even brightly colored. It looked like a voodoo doll sewn together from scraps of old cloth.
Rough welding scars were scattered along the seams across its surface, as if someone had sewn centipede clasps onto proper Ming-style Han clothing.
The thickest armor plates had clearly been removed from other ships and forcibly secured with oversized rivets and several layers of magnetic locks. Their edges stuck up unevenly.
The vital midsection of the ship must have been too awkward to fit with any other armor plates, so they had simply wrapped it in several layers of strange rock armor. Yes, the stuff looked unmistakably like stone. They had clearly peeled it off some meteorite they'd smashed apart.
Exposed bundles of pipes hung from the engine