"Those are salvage ships. They haul up the wreckage of sunken vessels from the seabed and melt it down for reuse," one of the young men escorting him explained casually. "Steel from sunken ships is more likely to give birth to ship souls. Though getting cursed out by both steam engines and ship souls is awful, at least it's safer. And with how quickly ships sink at the shipyard, if we didn't salvage them, this dock would be unusable sooner or later."
Hunter understood every word in that sentence, but put together, they made no sense at all. What was a ship soul? Why would ships sink at a shipyard? And most importantly, why would steam engines curse people?
Hunter instinctively wanted to ask, but the words reached his lips before he abruptly stopped himself.
The young lady doctor's advice still rang in his ears—don't listen, don't look, don't think. The more you know, the closer you are to madness.
Damn it. He was a scholar, and curiosity burned through his reason like wildfire.
After struggling for a while, he merely nodded and followed the young man beside him away from the docks.
"By the way, I haven't asked—who are you?" Hunter's gaze fell on the holy emblem pinned to the young man's clothes.
He had seen it aboard the ship. It was identical to the one in the Holy Scripture.
"I'm with the Faithguard Army, under the Empire Truth Church." Feeling Hunter's gaze, the young man straightened his chest.
"I see. I don't know much about your church. Could you tell me something about its doctrines?" Hunter asked carefully.
This was based on his experience dealing with church folk.
They might not love money, and they might not crave power, but their faith was generally devout.
Even those who