Preparing such a huge fish for lunch was no easy feat.
It was not only a matter of skill, but also one of physical labor.
Fortunately, the mission-driven spirit of the fisherman and his passion for improving the crew's diet jointly fueled Duncan, energizing him to tackle the big catch of the day.
After a long time bustling around the kitchen, he finally managed to remove the spiky bones from the ugly monster fish's head and, after some stumbling, divided its plump body into several pieces. The monster fish's head, practically meatless, was temporarily set aside; the belly and back, however, contained some good-quality parts, perfect for becoming ingredients aboard the Homeloss.
It was somewhat odd to see the captain himself bustling in the kitchen, but Duncan thoroughly enjoyed it—how the ordinary people who regarded the Homeloss with dread would react upon witnessing this scene, he did not know. Would they be shocked to find the fearsome Ghost Ship's captain showing such an approachable and domestic side, or would they first admire Duncan's excellent fishing skills?
While cutting up the monster fish into pieces, Duncan suddenly thought of this and, in high spirits, couldn't help but laugh. He mused that perhaps one day he might warmly invite some guests aboard—Homeloss wouldn't be synonymous with disaster forever, nor did he plan to be a cold-blooded and ruthless Ghost Ship captain. After further understanding the world, he would naturally integrate with contemporary civilized society.
By then, he'd have his guests aboard enjoy the fish.
After completing the simple butchering, Duncan stored most of the fish meat in barrels lined with sea salt and pushed the hefty barrels into the back of the kitchen's storeroom. He planned to process the smaller pieces later, curing them and hanging them to dry on deck. If all went well, they would become salted fish dried in the sea breeze.
It was a pity there was no strong liquor on board, or there would have been more ways to process the fish.
Having fresh fish to eat every day was surely wonderful, but Duncan knew fishing was all about chance. Today's bountiful catch might not be repeated in the future—he had to consider how to preserve any surplus ingredients.
After all, although the dried meat and cheese stored on the Homeloss showed no signs of rot, he couldn't be sure whether this was due to anything special about the Homeloss itself or if there was something unusual about the "dried meat" and "cheese". It would be a shame if the hard-caught fish went to waste.
Salted fish was at least better than century-old salted meat, even for a change of taste.
Duncan kept the most tender pieces that looked to have the best texture and threw them into a pot along with the dried meat to stew—the dried meat acted as seasoning in this process.
This was a wasteful practice; any real chef witnessing Duncan's method would see their blood pressure surge through the roof. The delicate fish meat was best suited for making sashimi or moderate grilling—Duncan was aware of this but he chose this method for safety's sake.
He dared not carelessly eat raw the unfamiliar creature caught from the sea, although theoretically, sea fish shouldn't carry parasites harmful to human bodies, and as a "Ghost Ship captain" he probably wouldn't be affected by ordinary toxins. But what if?
In comparison, stewing was the most effective way to safely prepare unfamiliar ingredients.
He wanted to try it this way first to confirm that the fish was indeed edible before considering other methods.
By the time it was nearly mid-afternoon, his belated "lunch" was finally ready.
A bowl of fish soup was served, and the delicious taste made Duncan's appetite soar, but before digging in, he prudently first forked a piece of fish meat, cooled it, and placed it before the pigeon Ai Yi.
Pigeons, of course, don't eat meat—but "Ai Yi" could hardly be called a normal pigeon.
Duncan needed to satisfy his curiosity; aboard the Homeloss, he had too many things to try.
As for what he'd do if the "abnormal pigeon" actually got poisoned after eating the fish meat... Duncan had a plan for that too.
First, he had processed the ingredients as thoroughly as possible, and letting the pigeon taste it was just a formality. Secondly, if Ai Yi did show signs of distress, he could immediately pull it into a Spiritual Body state using green fire—he had tried this before. In the Spiritual Body state, Ai Yi, like the feedback from the brass Compass, would be like an item controlled by the fire of the Spiritual Body. He could even disassemble and reassemble Spiritual Body Ai Yi and teleport it to a designated position next to him. Under such circumstances, ordinary toxins would surely be ineffective.
Ai Yi cocked its head to look at Duncan's actions, and after confirming that the piece of fish meat was intended for it, it first pecked at the table beside it, its eyes glancing fleetingly between Duncan and the ceiling, "Is this melon 'ripe' enough?"
Duncan replied, "Just say whether you'll eat it or not."
Ai Yi flapped her wings, mimicking Duncan's tone, "Just say if you're going to eat it or not!"
Then she lowered her head and pecked at the cooled fish flesh with surprising speed. In just a few nibbles, she had finished off what didn't look like bird food at all!
After eating, Ai Yi stretched her neck and then strutted proudly across the table. She seemed very pleased and, after circling around, returned in front of Duncan, loudly chirping, "Delicious! Delicious!"
Duncan watched the pigeon with his mouth agape, suddenly thinking to himself—this creature now embodied "pigeon, delicious, and parrot" all in one!
With these three elements combined, it was practically a light of humanity (Earth), according to the flexible "free nine-square grid." It wouldn't be a stretch to consider it an Earthling...
After a while, Duncan confirmed that the pigeon was not showing any abnormal reactions and finally put his mind at ease.
The captain of the Homeloss and his pet were thus hiding in the kitchen feasting on food supplies.
The fish was indeed delicious, just as Duncan had dreamed.
...
The setting sun was inching toward the high walls at the city's edge. The towering chimneys, pipes, and towers of the Plunder City-State were gradually bathed in a pale golden glow.
In the city central, the loud bell from Storm Cathedral on the highlands rang out, accompanied by the sharp whistling of steam escaping from relief valves. A large cloud of white steam burst forth from the towers flanking the cathedral, enveloping the sky above the highlands like layers of clouds, reflecting the golden sunlight from the sea.
This was the signal for the day-night transition—a reminder that the power of the sun was about to wane rapidly and the Creation of the World would soon take dominance in the sky.
The order of the mundane world would shift from stability to instability after this transition, and the influence from the world's "depths" would strengthen quickly as the night set in, continuing until the sun rose the next day.
At night, the cautious stayed at home, and those who had to go out made sure to stay in brightly lit places—the gas lamps blessed by clergy could dispel the night's malice to the greatest extent.
Nevertheless, this was still a prosperous and stable great City-State; under the protection of the sacred Storm Cathedral, even the deepest influences of the world were suppressed below a safe threshold. The occasional anomalies that appeared in the city were minor issues, and ordinary citizens knew how to ensure the safety within their homes. Furthermore, the church guardians took over the duties of the peace officers at night to maintain order in the city after dusk.
But like the shadows that escape even the brightest streetlight, there were always fools longing for darkness and upheaval under the very noses of the church's guardians, fearing and loathing the existing order of the world, and feverishly anticipating an "era of bliss" they had never seen themselves.
Fortunately, in a City-State where the forces of order were dominant, these subversive elements could only cower in the shadows most of the time.
On the fringes of the City-State, in the depths of an abandoned sewer entrance, a few figures in black robes huddled in a corner.
This place was once a temporary resting room for sewer maintenance personnel, but now forgotten with the changes in urban planning, the neglected corner had become a refuge for heretics fleeing in haste—a dimly lit oil lamp hung on the wall, its flickering light revealing faces filled with gloom, fear, and resentment.
A black-robed person around thirty lay on a makeshift bed of rags, clenching his teeth, pale-faced with weak and chaotic breaths. Others sat near him; one muttered in a low voice, "Those damned church hounds..."
"We've lost many brethren, and our messenger died during the ritual…" another said hoarsely, "How could the sacred ritual lose control so suddenly..."
"It was that sacrifice... it's clear it was because of that sacrifice, he obviously was a pawn of the heretics..."
"Listen," said a black-robed person suddenly, making a gesture of listening intently and then pointing upward, "It's the sound of the evening bell and the steam whistle."
"...Nightfall is upon us," the first to curse in a low voice said anxiously glancing at their "brother" lying on the makeshift bed, who was clearly in a dire state, "Damn... I hope he makes it through the night..."