Morel, How Long Has It Been Since You Rinsed Your Mouth?

The Xisong had completely gone berserk.

Its bow crushed through the waves as it charged forward, the entire ship groaning while not a single person on deck could keep their footing.

One sailor had just grabbed a rope when he was flung down the next second, half his face smashed against the deck, yet his hand still clung tightly to the rope.

Another sailor hugged the mast. "Ah! Mom, I want to go home! I want to go home!" His throat had gone hoarse from screaming.

"Captain! If we keep going like this, the mast will break!"

Captain Nishimatsu gripped the wheel with both hands, his entire body straining against it.

"Better broken than dead over there!"

"Don't loosen the sail ropes!"

"Anyone who lets go can swim home himself!"

No one dared look back.

Yet no one could stop themselves from looking.

That Black Gold spike still stood in the distant sea.

It was absurdly tall, water constantly streaming down its surface. The torrent crashed back into the ocean, and even from this far away, they could see a vast expanse of white foam.

Fortunately, it did not seem particularly interested in the Xisong.

That allowed everyone to catch their breath, if only a little.

But only a little.

Because no one knew whether it would move the next second.

Morel stood beneath the mainsail, his face turning blue from the nonstop blowing.

He took a deep breath, puffing out his chest, then blew at the sail again.

"Whoosh—!"

Wind flooded into the sail.

The Xisong shot forward another stretch.

Milluki hugged his terminal as he lay beside a deck crate, his face green.

"Morel!"

"Are you a person or an air pump?!"

Morel had no time to respond to his latest complaint.

The rows of Purple Smoke propellers