In the pitch-black depths of the sea.
Translucent bioluminescent creatures propelled by tendrils swam freely in the deep sea.
The various light trails they left in the darkness made it impossible to distinguish their bizarre appearances.
An erald paddlewheel sailboat moved slowly along the seabed.
Lanterns glowing at the stern illuminated a ghastly pale zombie sailor, who agilely reached out from the ship’s shield to grab a toothy anglerfish swimming by.
Amidst the bioluminescent glow surrounding the ship, it was part of the ensemble.
The zombie sailor, with a wicked grin, tossed the fish back into the seawater saying, "This little thing sure looks peculiar, uglier than I am."
On the deck, the zombies circled around an open space, holding various lanterns, so paper-made, so glass-hooded, and so rely a burst of green fla.
Underwater travel might seem romantically appealing to others.
Yet, if prolonged, it could plunge one into deep boredom—thus, the crew aboard the "Catastrophe of the Ocean" were adept at finding amusent during the tedious voyage.
Presently, in the center of the deck.
The "Boss’s Boss" was sparring in swordsmanship with a wolf cub, both sides displaying brilliance, causing the undead sailors to cheer excitedly.
Losa leaped, and the Shining Cross Sword slashed down decisively.
The powerful strike forced Hans to retreat several steps, inciting even louder cheers from the sailors.
"Sir is getting stronger."
Hans exclaid with admiration.
Losa secretly thought, your acting skills are also improving.
His close combat ability, enhanced by Bloodfall and multiple Dragon Blood baths, was decent among the Elite Wolf Race; however, compared to Hans, it was still a notch lower.
In the world of combat records, killing enemies doesn’t grant experience.
But as Destiny Black Dragon indicated, growing stronger in this world also feeds back into the real world.
Therefore, these past days, Losa sparred daily with Hans and Kurs, developing a deeper grasp of the swordsmanship specialization inherent in the Shining Cross Sword.
So one must push oneself.
If there were things to do, he might not quietly focus, but every day now, except for ditation, he practiced swordsmanship. It was easier before, since his relationship with Prajna and Jeanne grew deeper, his focus waned further.
Captain Hog, with a pipe in his mouth, stood at the captain’s helm, puffing away, not tasting anything. It had beco a habit.
With the senses of the "Ocean Disaster," Hog sensed the Yakexi Ironclad Ship above still speeding away. Even with tireless undead sailors, the Ocean Disaster could only barely keep up with the swift ironclad, unable to overtake it.
"If Paul were here, maybe we could drag this hunk of tal to the seabed, but alas..."
Captain Hog lanted.
The Ghost Ship road the diterranean for centuries, rarely encountering ships that could defeat the "Ocean Disaster" at sea.
But as ti passed, those invincible, even endowed with Extraordinary Power ironclads, even Pirate King Hog of the diterranean, felt a hint of powerlessness.
"But it’s alright."
"Pirates’ enemies have never been the navy."
Captain Hog could only console himself.
...
Texas, Wolf Castle.
The mountain path leading to the fortress had been widened.
Dozens of strong Wolf Race mbers were rhythmically chanting as they transported a massive fortress cannon into the fortress.
Jeanne was surprised and said, "Where did you get the cannon?"
Texas is just a vast farm; its military industry is almost non-existent, with only a few blacksmith shop-like workshops crafting so cold weapons.
Clan Leader Juliano explained, "Bought at a high price from New Orleans, it’s genuine current equipnt of the Royal Navy of the United Kingdom, driven by both White Crystal and gunpowder. Each shot consus a dium-quality White Crystal, and its power is rather impressive."
Jeanne thought: It’s not just about buying a cannon; they must have also verified the authenticity of the Wolf Race Expedition Army through British intelligence sellers.
Jeanne sighed, "Those arms dealers are so rich they’ll sell anything."
Juliano smiled wryly, "It’s just a Fort Cannon. No matter how advanced, we can’t mount it on a warship to bombard the British holand."
North Arica is so chaotic, and absolutely intertwined with the British.
The British’s greed for land is unlike the desperateness of the impoverished Tsarist Russia.
Places like Texas, fertile yet sparsely populated, unless gold is buried beneath, can’t catch the British’s interest.
As the greatest beneficiaries of the Age of Navigation, the British control the wealthiest lands in the world.
But land alone is not enough; there must be ample manpower.
Thus, Eastern India beca the most dazzling jewel in the crown of the King of England.
Yet, undervalued as it may be.
The British would never mind if the territories in Arica, outside their own colonies, beco increasingly chaotic.
Best if every faction fights each other till the bitter end, stifling any chance of developnt and posing no threat to British colonies.
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