The High Priest's voice was old and viscous, as if his mouth was filled with phlegm, making Charles feel very uncomfortable.
"Where is the item?"
"Not far, on a newly discovered island to the left of the Coral Islands."
Charles continued to ask, "Why me? There are plenty of people and ships stronger than mine."
"Heh heh heh, that place is a bit dangerous, we need a cautious captain."
Charles didn't believe his talk of "a bit dangerous"—"a bit dangerous" wasn't worth a million Echo Coins.
"You must have said this to others too, right? What happened to them?"
With a hint of scorn in his tone, the High Priest said, "Isn't Captain Charles the one who boasted about buying an Exploration Ship? If you're afraid of even this small danger, you don't seem like the hero who can expand humanity's territory."
Seeing that the man in the red robe didn't directly answer his question, Charles knew that his predecessors' fates must not have been good, and that the place was definitely very dangerous.
After pondering for a moment, he decided to accept the mission. Fortune favors the bold, and he didn't want to delay any longer; moreover, he couldn't afford to.
As for danger, where could one sail safely nowadays? There wasn't a safe place on the Earth Sea.
"Alright, but how can I make sure you'll keep your word?"
The High Priest of the Fatan Sect seemed quite reasonable. "I can deposit the reward with the Bank of England and have them bear witness."
He paused for a few seconds and then continued, "I have a small question, Captain Charles. Why are you so eager to purchase an Exploration Ship? Is it for power? Echo Coins? Or honor?"
Charles had no intention of hiding his motives, "To find the Land of Light."
Upon hearing this, the man in the red robe trembled, and with a trace of panic in his hoarse voice asked, "Looking for the Land of Light? You're not one of those Light Sect people, are you?"
"No."
Relieved by Charles's answer, the High Priest exhaled. "That's good. If you were indeed one of those heretics, we'd have to reconsider our deal. Don't get involved with them; those heretics are nothing but madmen—they're a Cult!"
Listening to a devotee of the Fatan Sect, which liked human sacrifices, say these words, Charles wanted to laugh. The pot calling the kettle black—if one were to judge by Earth's standards, every religion of the Earth Sea would be considered a cult, their rituals as inhumane as they come.
When Charles left the Confession Room, the bald man previously named Hook walked in, reverently carrying a cup of bloody water and placed it behind the High Priest.
"Go sign the contract now, and have him set sail as soon as possible."
Hook nodded, thought for a moment, and then cautiously asked, "High Priest, do you think it will be successful this time?"
A black octopus tentacle reached out from beneath the red robe, curling around the cup before retreating back into the robe, "Let's try slowly, this is only the ninth one, don't rush... the Holy Master's relic must belong to us."
Without wasting any time, Charles followed the hurriedly arriving Hook towards the Coral Islands' largest bank.
Seeing that bald head write the name of the Fatan Church on the contract, Charles felt reassured about the legality of the agreement, now endorsed by the Governor of the Island. The Fatan Sect couldn't afford to break their promise because the cost would be far more than a million.
"Captain Charles, I hear your first mate has left the ship, is that right?"
"What does that have to do with the current matter?" Charles asked, tucking the contract into an inner pocket of his clothes.
"Nothing at all, it's just that to help you complete the mission promptly, the Fatan Church has specially selected a first mate for you. He has extensive nautical experience; please don't refuse."
Looking at the bald man in front of him, Charles's brow furrowed slightly. "To keep an eye on me?"
"No, he's just here to show you the way. The island is quite secluded, and we were afraid you wouldn't be able to find it."
Charles didn't seem to care. As their interests aligned for the time being, even if these guys were crazy, they wouldn't send someone to hinder him now.
"I'll depart at six o'clock in three days."
Three days later at the port, the port was starting to buzz with activity, teams of laborers moving cargo like ants.
Charles stood at the bow waiting, with other crew members idly chatting on deck. Among them were two new faces, new sailors, while the previous sailor Deep had just been promoted to sailor chief.
The suddenly promoted young man looked excited, standing with his hands behind his back like a seasoned veteran instructing the new sailors, even though they were much older than him.
Beside him, the Chief Engineer and the chef were not so carefree; they knew this mission wasn't so simple.
"James, I thought you'd leave the ship like John did," the chef Frey, skinny as a rail, said.
"The captain has saved my life. Wherever he goes, I go, and besides, the captain said the reward for this mission is generous. Once I get the reward, I can propose to Mosica." The thought of a wedding seemed to spread happiness across the big man's face.
"But what if you die? This isn't a delivery mission, you know. Technically, exploring islands is the Explorer's job."
"I'm not afraid, and sticking with you guys isn't bad either."
The Chief Engineer, reminded of something, turned to his companion, "And you, Frey, why did you come?"
"You know my character—I can't be bothered to move. Plus," Frey said, directing his gaze towards the captain's back, his eyes filled with a calm resolve.
In reality, he hadn't left because, a few years ago, he had secretly seen the captain take out a rectangular object that could play music like a record player and even project ghostly performances of plays.
Though he didn't know what it was, he sensed it was some powerful relic, and he imagined that it extracted tears as a price. The captain, usually so rational, had wept like a child that day.
From that moment on, he had made up his mind to stick with this captain. Being with a captain in possession of such a powerful artifact had to ensure safety.
High wages at sea didn't matter, nor did the workload—staying alive was what mattered most.
As it turned out, his choice was the right one. Most of the people who had gone to sea at the same time as him were almost all dead, while he was still alive and well.
Charles at the bow suddenly narrowed his eyes, watching as a line of Futan Sect followers in black robes passed through the laborers heading toward the dock, led by the bald man called Hook.
"Where are they? Hurry up, I'm short on time," Charles said, visibly impatient.
Hook smiled and gave a light clap; one of the followers behind him stepped forward.
Seeing the man's attire, Charles thought he was looking at a mummy—natural-colored bandages wrapped tightly around the man's entire body, not a speck of skin exposed.
"You can call him 'Bandage' or whatever you like. He has been a first mate, and he also knows the direction to the island. He will be a great help to you on this journey."
"Is what's inside alive?" Charles asked, warily.
"Heh, don't worry, he's human, a person of flesh and blood."
Hook pulled out a dagger and forcefully slashed across Bandage's face. Underneath the loosened bandages was black skin, with a bright red blood oozing from the split wound.
"A black man? Are there still black people in this world?" Charles took a closer look and realized his mistake; the man's skin wasn't black but was covered in dense tattoos resembling letters, creating the illusion of black skin at a glance.