Chapter 410: The Ambush
Heading west from Temple Port meant entering the vast expanse of the Misty Sea. Not far from here lay another famous island—the Winemaking Island, Cristatia. The prime meridian dividing the eastern and western continents of the Apocalypse World—the Cristatia Line—ran right through it. West of that point began the Western Continent, where the climate grew steadily colder the farther one went.
However, the Wings of Freedom wasn't scheduled to dock at Cristatia Island. If everything went smoothly, they would reach their next stop—Tyldron Island, the capital of the Mortley Archipelago of the West Kingdom—within two to three days.
From nine in the morning to noon, their voyage was unusually calm. The winds were favorable, the currents cooperative, and even the fickle tides of the sea seemed to aid their journey. The ship's navigator, Old Kenny, couldn't help but click his tongue in amazement.
"Sea God's blessing! If this keeps up for two more days, we'll reach Tyldron Island nearly twelve hours early," said Red-Haired Robinson cheerfully, standing beside him with a grin.
"Praise the Sea God!" the sailors cheered.
Zhou Ning: …
He couldn't bring himself to echo Robinson's words, so he quietly turned his gaze toward the serene ocean instead.
Now and then, rare and exotic fish leapt out of the waves—a beautiful spectacle. Sailors and passengers eagerly scrambled to catch them, and someone even set up a grill right on deck, roasting fresh fish. The rich aroma was enough to rouse Richie Burke from his slumber; rubbing his eyes, he stumbled out to join the others.
Around 2:20 in the afternoon, a thin veil of mist began to spread, and the Wings of Freedom officially entered the Misty Sea. From Zhou Ning's vantage point, he could clearly see three distinct ocean currents flowing in parallel bands of color.
The relatively bright blue current in the middle was the so-called Safe Route. Its flow was steady, and the chances of encountering violent weather or pirates were much lower. To either side, the green and deep-blue currents were far more dangerous.
As soon as the Wings of Freedom entered the safe current, a violent storm erupted in the left-hand current. Several black-sailed pirate ships that had been lying in ambush were caught in the tempest, their hulls struggling against the surging waves, on the verge of capsizing.
Whether it was the effect of the Lucky Clover or the nature of this "New World," the storm—barely three nautical miles away—did not affect the central current at all. In fact, it even added a strong tailwind that sped the ship along even faster.
That… was probably not a good sign. The trouble ahead was unlikely to be small.
Zhou Ning drew a deep breath, his nerves tightening. The Lucky Clover had been activated around 2:30 a.m. the previous night. That meant less than ten minutes remained before the effect ended—and the ensuing three-hour streak of misfortune would begin.
The minutes ticked by. As the countdown hit zero, a chill swept through Zhou Ning's body. His hair stood on end, and he felt an uncanny sense of rejection, as if the very rules of the world had turned against him.
The wind, the currents, the rain… suddenly, it all seemed hostile—lethal.
A fierce gust struck without warning, rocking the ship violently and throwing the deck into chaos. Dark clouds piled high in the sky, and before long, a massive, visible cyclone began to take form in the distance, heralding an apocalyptic storm.
"Listen up, everyone! Hard to port! Enter the Misty Sea! Passengers, below deck! We'll do everything we can to keep you safe! I repeat—passengers, below deck, and watch your footing!" Robinson shouted out rapid orders.
Zhou Ning looked up at the approaching tornado, his expression calm as he gripped the hilt of the Cortés Sword. He tried to disperse the storm with its power—but to his surprise, another force seemed to be resisting him. Every time he quelled one vortex, another would immediately form. Fortunately, the cyclones were gradually weakening.
But before the ship could turn fully to port, the diminishing hurricane collided head-on with the Wings of Freedom.
A towering wave—higher than a mountain—crashed toward them, a roaring wall of water. The enchanted "Bryce" sails strained to their limit, the ship's timbers groaning under the force. As the helm turned left, the ship began tilting dangerously in that direction. Several passengers, unable to keep their footing, slid screaming toward the rail.
Zhou Ning reached out, catching a young woman just as she was about to tumble into the sea. He didn't stop to acknowledge her thanks—his focus snapped back to his weapon.
For the fifth time, he unleashed the Cortés Sword's power. The hurricane dissipated instantly, and the ship righted itself, narrowly escaping capsizing.
The opposing force seemed to fade at last. But in the distance—at the edge of the storm—a dark shape emerged through the mist, rapidly drawing closer. Its speed exceeded eighteen knots, faster than even the most advanced steamships.
With the Wings of Freedom having dropped its sails in the storm and still mid-turn, they were inevitably closing the gap.
Thanks to his extraordinary vision, Zhou Ning could clearly make out its form: a sailing vessel nearly twice the size of their own.
It was hard to believe that a mere sailship could move so fast.
The ship was about 180 meters long, 40 meters wide, and had a draft of over 3 meters—its buoyancy was extraordinary. Its hull was painted deep blue, with wave-like wind patterns along the sides. Two full rows of cannon ports—sixty-four guns in total—lined its flanks. Its sails bore the emblem of a winged skull.
"That's the Headwind..." Richie Burke was now fully awake. His hand instinctively went to the flintlock pistol at his belt, his expression grim as he turned to Robinson. "You on good terms with Gallagher?"
Headwind? Zhou Ning blinked, then remembered where he'd heard the name.
He'd met the ship's second mate, the Sea Serpent Steinbeck, just the previous night—and learned that this was none other than the flagship of The Wind General Gallagher, a legendary pirate who commanded a pure alchemical vessel powered entirely by wind. Around Gallagher, the wind never ceased.
"No. The Wind General's a lone wolf," Robinson replied darkly, shaking his head.
Zhou Ning let his arms hang loosely at his sides, ready to strike at any moment. His gaze stayed fixed on the approaching ship.
"Rumor has it the Wind General's strength lies somewhere between Transcendent-class and Demigod. His bounty's at seventy thousand Vecktas," Robinson continued grimly.
"He's enemies with the Lightning General—one of the other five Pirate Generals. They've fought several times already. Just half a month ago, they clashed again."
"He's ruthless, but he keeps to his own code. If you pay his ransom in full, he won't kill you—but he won't leave you a single coin either. Everyone on board will be marooned on a deserted island and left to fend for themselves."
"But if you can't pay… then he's the embodiment of cruelty. He kills without hesitation."
Can I take him on with my current strength? Zhou Ning wondered briefly.
Just then, the Headwind slowed, veering toward them. A strong gust of wind blew hard across the waves as a system notification flickered to life before Zhou Ning's eyes:
[You have triggered the Escort Mission: Protect the Wings of Freedom. Accept mission? Yes / No.]
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