Endless Debt Chapter 655 - 166 Wrecked Ship Shore

Free Port, Wrecked Ship Shore.

The rain gradually intensified, dark clouds covered the sky, blocking out the sun.

The sea is always so unpredictable, with waves and fierce winds disturbing the coast, wave after wave crashing on the jagged remains of wrecked ships, breaking into white foam before returning to the sea.

"Hert once told me, he said the sea is like a mysterious and unpredictable lady."

Lebius’s face was hidden under the black umbrella, his voice overpowered the wind and rain, clearly reaching Bologue’s ears.

"You can never guess her temperament, you don’t know whether the next moment she’ll show you endless sunlight, or bring crashing thunderous winds and massive waves.

Sometimes she’ll gently caress your cheek, sometimes she’ll deliver a blow that leaves you both startled and fearful, yet full of desire.

Your curiosity about her has never extinguished since it ignited, you hope to understand her, to delve deep into her heart, for this you wander the Seven Seas all your life."

Lebius continued, "These pirates, they do have a romantic side, they describe their curiosity for the sea as a suitor’s love."

The rain pelted the black umbrella, the sound of pattering endless.

"A suitor’s love?" Bologue recalled, "I read a similar metaphor in a book, the author sees everyone as a book, curiosity makes you want to keep reading, to understand her... it sounds quite similar."

Lebius nodded, though under the cover of the black umbrella, Bologue couldn’t see it, and so the two chatted idly, pressing on through the storm toward the Wrecked Ship Shore.

Aimou, who temporarily followed along, had already achieved a Shared Chord Body with Bologue, she overlapped with Bologue, a bluish halo emerged in her eyes, ready to act as a surprise force at any moment.

Behind the curtain of misty rain, a blurry shadow appeared, and as they closed the distance, it gradually clarified, revealing its fierce and twisted form to the newcomers.

The wrecked ships were piled together, forming a kingdom of iron carcasses, Bologue had imagined what it might look like, but seeing it in reality, he was shocked by its strange and twisted sight.

Huge shipwrecks leaned on each other, with metal constantly corroding under the erosion of rain and time, covered by a thick brown coating, and where metal intersected, oxidized and rusted debris congealed together, resembling piled up fungi.

Rotten wooden fishing boats scattered around, like myriad stranded whales, densely clustered mollusks grew in the shadows, resembling stacked eyeballs, old fishing nets dragged at the stern, akin to the innards and intestines flowing out of a whale’s belly.

Bologue raised his head, at the very top of the countless wrecks, a half-exposed ship’s body jutted out, with the bow spiking skyward like a spire, and one side of the bow had a protruding gap pierced by a cannonball, its metal splintered, unfurling like petals.

The identification on the ship’s body was long covered in a thick layer of rust, but at first glance, Bologue recognized it as a battleship, from the era of Fury of Scorching Earth.

"A museum of history..."

Bologue sighed, it’s not easy to see such relics nowadays.

"Or rather, a graveyard of history."

Lebius said, quickening his pace, not far ahead, the wreckage formed a triangular structure, revealing a pitch-black deep hallway.

As Bologue stepped into the hallway, he could clearly sense someone in the shadows watching him, but he pretended everything was normal, ignoring these eerie presences.

It was the first time for both of them here, Lebius half-doubted Hert’s words. According to intelligence, after a sea voyage years ago, Hert was exiled by the Tidefolk, Nolen inherited the role of Navigator, perhaps overly traumatized, Hert’s entire demeanor changed dramatically.

Recalling Hert’s frenzied pathological demeanor in his mind, Lebius felt a shiver, unable to fathom how his friend from the past could turn into this.

After years of remaking, the interior of the wrecks had been hollowed out, transformed into a labyrinth built of debris, cold wind whistled through gaps, producing a thin, sharp wail, distant murmurs of crowds could be heard.

Bologue frowned, rainwater washed away rust and grime, dripping along the corners of the wreckage, outside was a torrential downpour, even inside the wreckage it was drizzling.

The hallway reached its end, it was considerably warmer in here compared to the outside; a rust-covered watertight door blocked the way.

Bologue touched the rough metal surface, inspecting it carefully, someone had dismantled the watertight door along with the entire wall, then piled it here, welding it to other wreckage, to create a door in such a crude manner.

Lebius stepped forward, knocked on the door; before negotiations broke down, they were guests, and as guests, it was best to knock politely rather than smashing through with an Iron Hammer.

Bologue stood behind Lebius, focused and prepared for anything. Hert wasn’t entirely trustworthy, so they came in separate teams.

After a brief wait, rust debris fell from above, Bologue looked up, surprisingly a small window opened above, and a pair of eyes looked over.

"We are the guests of the Butcher."

Lebius said, looking up, referring to the Butcher as Hert.

During the days of exile, Hert made a name for himself in the shadows of Free Port through brutal methods, gathering a group of loyal followers, most of whom hid within the Wrecked Ship Shore.

Hurried footsteps echoed between the steel, the valve on the watertight door began to turn, and a hunched figure pushed open the door, beckoning the two inside.

The man was short, his spine somewhat deformed, bending with an excessive curve, resembling a creeping giant rat.

"The Butcher’s guests, hehe, what brings you here?"

The man asked while leading the way, his greedy eyes roving over the two like a vulture circling in the sky.

"None of your business."

Bologue replied coldly. He had seen many of this type of person and had been to places like this many times before.

During the internship period after getting out of prison, Bologue had been wandering in the crossroads, constantly fighting various underground forces, and coming here felt like returning to his element, like a fish in water.

"Indeed, it’s none of my business. I just hope you won’t end up dead here."

The man rubbed his hands excitedly, "Of course, it would be better if you did, then all your things would belong to me."

Bologue had encountered similar people, if the world in the shadows had a food chain, they were a group of scavengers, emptying the pockets of the deceased, stripping them of their jewelry.

The man blinked his eyes, his face covered with raised bumps, as if overgrown with some kind of fungus, his eyes nestled within narrow slits, filled with a sense of sneakiness.

"You know, some people have such strange quirks. If you accidentally die, do try not to let your innards get too damaged before you do," the man advised considerately.

Bologue ignored him, noise came from ahead, dim light poured down from above, accompanied by the sound of dripping rainwater.

Inside the wreckage was a large marketplace, where foreigners walked and stopped, doing business with the shopkeepers using their own unique slang, with stolen artifacts and illegally smuggled rare items. Bologue also saw rows of prisons holding men and women, from which groans could be faintly heard.

Hert relocated the underground forces within Free Port, moved them away from the city, and established this place of filth at the Wrecked Ship Shore.

Hert didn’t eradicate the darkness but rather kept it away from the residents of Free Port, maintaining the fragile order on the surface.

Tackling the symptoms but not the root cause.

In fact, Bologue had no fundamental solutions either. He couldn’t think of a perfect solution, but if it were him, he wouldn’t compromise like Hert.

If there’s one, kill one; if there are two, smash both, absolute force will intimidate all evil.

Bologue murmured lightly, "I don’t like this place."

His fingers trembled slightly, Bologue instinctively wanted to grab the Iron Hammer and smash it to pieces here.

Lebius replied, "We’ll have plenty of time later to burn it to ashes."

The hunched man led the two to a corner of the marketplace, where a Divination Master in a purple robe stood, their entire face hidden in darkness. Upon seeing the two arrive, they let out a rustling laugh, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue.

"Guests introduced by the Butcher."

The hunched man introduced them to the Divination Master, then turned and said to Lebius, "If you have any questions, just ask him."

"Where’s the Butcher?"

Lebius asked in return, he had thought Hert would be waiting for him here, but it seemed he wasn’t present.

"The Butcher? How could I know where the Butcher is?"

The hunched man laughed, revealing his dry, yellow teeth, "At most, I’m just a guide."

Lebius covertly exchanged a glance with Bologue, they both sensed that something was wrong.