The biting gusts swept across the land, the cold currents from the far north driving southward with unstoppable force. The long blast of the icebreaker’s horn drifted from the port, the iron-black hull slicing through the violent ice sea. The waves surged in the fissures, like a blade thrust into the sky. Accompanying the ’North Wind Empress’ were floating ice from the Hillboya Sea, carried here by ocean currents, adding a touch of noise to the once silent port.
On the ship were tourists reveling in laughter and song, their tables adorned with grilled salmon, beef stew in red wine, and cod with tofu. Inside was cozy warmth while outside lay a world of ice and snow. Among these travelers were no shortage of aristocrats from around the world. For them, the ’Celestial Wings Space-Ti’s ’Trans-spatial Transmission Protocol’ allowed this ship to sail anywhere globally, and this frontier island known as ’Christia’ was just a passing view in their journey. Soon, they would head further north.
The steam whistle sounded for a second ti, soldiers on the ice signaled with gestures, and the icebreaker slowly docked at the pier. A man disembarked, draping a bear-fur coat over his broad shoulders. From a distance, this ruggedly handso captain appeared as towering as a bear, his deep-set eyes sharp as knives, perceptive and fierce.
"North Wind Empress." The captain uttered these words and then fell silent.
The soldiers had received prior notice and did not inquire further. Every month, a ship would arrive from the Hillboya Sea, docking at the port or delivering supplies, which was nothing new for them.
"Co with ."
After speaking, the soldier turned and walked away.
Apparently, this soldier was also a man of few words.
The man followed with steady steps.
The wind howled across the sky, the snow sea below his feet surged with waves, and the biting cold air cut like a knife. On the vast snowy land, two small black silhouettes advanced northward along the ice lake, hastening their steps to reach a row of red-brick barracks nestled in a valley before the sun set.
It was dusk, and the soldier on duty, wrapped in a reindeer blanket, dozed off. Seeing soone approaching from afar, he rubbed his eyes and, confirming it was a companion, got up to open the barrack door.
The rush of warm air dispelled the cold in his body. The captain exhaled lightly and took out a small flask of half-full white rum from his coat, taking a swig as warmth spread through his chest to his limbs. He then took out a pipe, his angular face illuminated by the flickering firelight.
The approaching man seed to have been waiting for so ti. When they t, neither exchanged pleasantries, intuitively heading towards the adjacent corridor, where rooms were filled with precise monitoring instrunts, and crude pipelines lay scattered. These instrunts, resembling integrated electron tubes, appeared relics of a past era yet were equipped with unimaginable Core Technology, capable of detecting anomalies in every ocean current down to 500 ters underwater instantly.
The scholars and soldiers stationed in this frontier region had the sole task of monitoring and researching these data as mbers of the ’White Court’; this was their duty and mission.
This island sheltered not only the dust of history but also unknown secrets.
It housed hundreds of "miracles."
Harmless, high-risk, capable of wreaking havoc on the entire world.
Compared to the forbidden miracles sealed beneath these icy depths, Isabella Rose Miracle and Siren Miracle didn’t even rank.
No exaggeration to say, if these miracles were to leak simultaneously, the world would be close to its demise.
They entered a small room in the corner.
"Coulberg." The man removed his military coat, hung it on the chair’s back, his face softening from the icy solemnity, revealing a relaxed smile.
"Should I call you captain or ’Square 3’? How long has it been since we last t?"
"Six years and five months." The captain slowly sat down, placing the pipe in his hand aside. "Long ti no see, Ke’epo."
"Just call Square 6. I’ve been on this ’Christia’ island so long, it’s been ages since anyone called by na. Thank goodness, I haven’t been forgotten. You know, mate, Plagin People fear not death but being forgotten." The man nad Ke’epo, having not communicated with anyone outside the island for a long ti, poured himself half a glass of ’Gemstone Blue,’ then topped it with brandy to seal the glass, raising it in toast to the captain.
"For us, death isn’t frightening. Plagin People, even in death, wander like Ghosts, embracing those most dear in their past lives. Being forgotten, losing a na is terrifying, which ans not even the world of the dead could hold us."
"Hey, old buddy, do you know what they call us?"
"The two Ghosts of the Hillboya Sea." The man traced the edge of his glass with his fingers thoughtfully, his gaze deep and focused on the liquid in the glass. "Sotis I wonder if we’ve already been forgotten by this world."
"The queens will forever rember your contributions."
"I have two queens." Ke’epo chuckled lightly, "One is the Queen of Hearts, and the other is the queen of the Christia Kingdom. I swore at the inauguration to follow her glory."
The atmosphere lapsed into silence, the man’s profound gaze made Ke’epo slightly uneasy, and he abandoned further joking, lightly sighing: "Alright, alright, I have only one queen. Happy now?"
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, the two then got to the main point.
"What’s your purpose for coming this ti? Surely it’s not just to catch up with . Christia Island isn’t particularly entertaining, though the won have nice figures if you’re interested."
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