Though both were ghost ships, traveling aboard Aige's true vessel felt entirely different.
Other ghost ships drew their propulsion from hordes of spirits and still had to part the ocean waters to move forward. As far as Anbaixiu knew, ghost ships could only shift into an ethereal, incorporeal state for a fleeting moment to evade attacks—lasting perhaps three to five seconds at most, with a limited number of uses.
Yet Aige was different. Her true vessel could remain in an incorporeal state indefinitely, gliding through the murky depths of the seabed as nothing more than a translucent phantom.
Intangible, imperceptible, and utterly unimpeded by the seawater, it moved at tremendous speed.
Furthermore, not only the ghost ship itself, but everything and everyone aboard entered the incorporeal state along with it.
"Is your ship even on the Prime Material Plane anymore?" Anbaixiu asked.
Aige gave a gentle smile. "I couldn't explain the mechanics behind it, but I can sail anywhere I wish to go. Perhaps this is the blessing my father left me."
The old shipwright had viewed the *Aige*, the ship he had built with his own hands, as his beloved daughter. His dying wish had been for her to sail to every corner of the sea.
It was this fierce longing that allowed his soul to serve as nourishment for Aige's birth, transforming the vessel into a ghost ship.
Aige had drifted aimlessly for ages. Living creatures were constantly lured aboard, only to perish upon its decks. Nourished by this feast of flesh, blood, and souls, Aige finally developed an awareness of her own. When she became an independent sapient life-form, the Necrotic Codex manifested on her ship.
Even then, it took her many years to learn the written word and discover what the Necrotic Codex was actually for.
Aige was not particularly clever, but she was immensely powerful. This ghost ship could truly sail to any corner of the ocean.
Whether reefs, undersea volcanoes, or the colossal sea monsters blocking their path, nothing could leave a mark on her vessel.
And if any mindless sea beasts were foolish enough to stretch out tentacles or snap open their jaws to attack, their flesh would rapidly wither and perish under the corrosion of dark magic.
Anbaixiu watched as a giant octopus, its suckers each larger than his skull, rotted away bit by bit into sludge, only to be swiftly devoured by the ghost ship without leaving so much as a bone behind.
Both flesh and souls could provide dark magic for the undead, which was the fundamental source of friction between the undead and the living.
The undead had no need to eat, but who wouldn't want to grow a little stronger?
The ghost ship did not brave the wind and cleave the waves; it merely slipped through the abyss like an apparition. Anbaixiu could not feel the flow of the currents, and the seabed's terrain was far more convoluted than land, making it impossible for him to gauge just how fast Aige was traveling.
He only knew that everything blurred backward at astonishing speed, leaving schools of fish far behind in the blink of an eye.
Down in the deep sea, even the passage of time grew difficult to discern. Anbaixiu only noticed that Melina had grown bored of the scenery, producing a small notebook to jot and sketch.
When Anbaixiu asked what she was writing, Melina replied with utmost earnestness, "A travel journal. Mother told me to follow you, observe closely, and learn well. I have to record everything you say and do, Father, so I can study it later."
Anbaixiu chuckled. "What could you possibly learn from that?"
Intelligence, after all, came in many different forms. An alchemical genius might not know how to hold a kitchen knife, while his household cook might be a dashing scoundrel who could seduce the mistress of the house and conspire with her to murder that very genius.
Social tact, logical deduction, observation, imagination, emotional control, and above all, inexplicable flashes of inspiration—pieced together, these elements formed what ordinary folk called "wisdom."
Wisdom was a high tower, each person building theirs in their own unique way. Its height would vary, and its resilience to storms would differ.
Take Harvey, for instance. That boy's talent was so monstrous it made even Anbaixiu envious. Using such inborn brilliance as his foundation, Harvey could raise his tower of wisdom astonishingly high.
Yet the boy had no knack for interpersonal affairs, even proving rather sluggish to react.
When hit with external pressures, that towering structure would become unstable and easily toppled with a single nudge, making him look utterly foolish and constantly falling prey to deceit.
As for Melina, Anbaixiu felt the fault lay with himself—he must have distributed her soul attributes in the wrong direction when weaving it. She was an absolute combat prodigy. Barely born, she already wielded martial prowess so terrifying that even Zariel had invited her to join the Nine Hells. Melina's combat instincts were vastly superior to ordinary undead, and paired with those golden eyes capable of piercing all illusions, she was practically invincible.
In terms of combat, Melina's wisdom was not a tower, but a towering mountain.
There was really no need to pursue being an all-rounder.
Melina had an entire undead kingdom backing her up; being herself was more than enough. She wasn't like Anbaixiu when he had first transmigrated, forced to fend for every scrap of survival on his own.
Life had battered him black and blue, compelling him to learn how to read hearts, master alchemy and magic, pick up wilderness survival, and delve into history, religion, and theology... That journey had held no beauty or sense of achievement whatsoever; looking back on it brought only misery and vexation.
Even though Melina was not his flesh and blood, Anbaixiu had no desire to see her endure centuries of wretched misfortune like he had. That would be far too pitiful.
Looking into his daughter's clear eyes, Anbaixiu patted her shoulder. "Melina, you're different from the rest. Don't waste your time trying to learn all these things. Just focus on being yourself. Once you can go toe-to-toe with Uncle Gareth, then you can worry about the rest."
Speaking of which, just how strong was Gareth?
Anbaixiu had always wondered about that. He knew every member of the Elegy Poetry Society possessed unique, formidable skills, but Gareth's record seemed absurdly inflated. Anbaixiu had seen Gareth fight, but only against the weak; he had never witnessed the man go all out.
It wouldn't hurt to let Melina spar with him. A headless horseman versus a death knight was a fitting match, making him the perfect sparring partner. While he was lost in thought, the ghost ship suddenly slowed.
Aige turned to Anbaixiu. "We're approaching Dragon Tomb Island. Let us surface. Otherwise, the dragons might think we've come looking for trouble."
Anbaixiu chuckled. "Trouble is unavoidable, but you're right. Courtesy before force is always best. I'll send Gareth a message."
Taking out the Necrotic Codex, Anbaixiu dispatched a message to Gareth: *[Brother, I'm almost at the Dragon Tomb. Give the bone dragons a heads-up so there are no misunderstandings.]*
Before setting out, Anbaixiu had contacted Gareth to confirm he was waiting at the Dragon Tomb before making the long journey.
This place lay in the outer sea, far from the mainland. Even a true dragon would take several days of flight to reach it.
*[Crown of the Headless Horseman: Huh, already? Hold on, I'll head out to meet you. Don't come any closer just yet. The situation's been tense lately, and misunderstandings happen easily.]*
*So tensions really are running high?*
It seemed having their astral kin arrive had made the true dragons view the bone dragons with growing disdain.
The ghost ship rose steadily, breaching the sea's surface moments later.
As the incorporeal state faded, a gust of sea breeze rushed over Anbaixiu. It carried the faint, foul stench of dark magic. *A Dragon Tomb indeed.* Even at such a distance, with the coastline appearing as nothing more than a thin thread on the horizon, he could clearly feel the dark magic permeating the air. Ordinary undead never possessed such an oppressive presence.
Yet the waters here were clear and peaceful. There were no Githyanki fleets to be seen, nor fierce dragons wheeling overhead. There was only a single white trail cutting through the water... Gareth, riding the waves.
The headless horseman rode atop his eight-legged steed, carving a loud, foaming white wake across the ocean.
That eight-legged steed had to be blessed with some sort of magical enchantment to gallop across the water with such massive bulk at such terrifying speed.
Gareth parted the waves, striking an overwhelmingly majestic figure. The man always made such an extravagant entrance.
Anbaixiu knew Gareth didn't do it deliberately; he merely didn't want his friends waiting, so he spurred his mount across the waves. Yet his unintentional flair was always so effortless, it was no wonder women of every race fell head over heels for him.
Aige watched the galloping headless knight and remarked in surprise, "Gareth... That's strange. There's an aura of a curse on him."
"A curse?" Anbaixiu focused his senses, but detected nothing amiss.
Aige hesitated before saying, "I can't help feeling he's trapped by something. Like a warrior bound by countless chains, constantly struggling. Though this is my first time meeting him, so it might just be my imagination."
Anbaixiu stared at the towering figure parting the waves... *Bound by chains, looking like that? Just how terrifying would he be if he broke free?*
Before Anbaixiu could say anything more to Aige, Gareth reined in his mount. The eight-legged steed slid across the water for quite a distance before halting neatly before the ghost ship.
Gareth boomed warmly, "Hahaha! Brother, and Senior Aige, welcome, welcome! Welcome to the Island of Eternal Rest!"
"Gareth, why do you have that helmet on again?" Anbaixiu asked.
Gareth was a headless horseman; his neck was bare air. Yet now, a heavy black helmet was clamped over it. He had worn it before to conceal his identity, but did he still need a disguise in his own home?
Gareth sighed helplessly. "Canggu said it looks better this way. Those Gith toads have been lurking around the Island of Eternal Rest lately, so Canggu told me to mind my public image."
Anbaixiu voiced his grievance on his behalf. "What's wrong with a headless knight? Just because you don't have a head means you lack a presentable image? Typical narrow-minded woman's logic."
Aige glanced sideways at Anbaixiu. He quickly cleared his throat and amended, "Well, she has a point too. Perhaps women just care more about these details. Gareth, it's a fine helmet!"
Melina, standing nearby, promptly brought out her little notebook, scribbling away furiously.
Aige was left somewhat speechless. *Why did their conversation turn even more awkward the moment Gareth showed up?*
After exchanging brief pleasantries, Gareth led the ghost ship toward the Island of Eternal Rest, the burial grounds of the dragons.
As they drew closer, the concentration of dark magic in the air grew steadily denser.
Upon reaching the shore, Anbaixiu spotted a massive shadow rising from the heart of the island.
A colossal bone dragon was winging its way toward them.
Gareth pointed toward the sky with an embarrassed look. "That's Canggu's father, the master of the Island of Eternal Rest—Sefris."
Chapter 371