Chapter 103: The Convergence

“Heading out to sea… are you sure you’re up for it?” Aine asked Pepo.

“Of course. I’m ready.” Setting aside whether a bear’s vitality surpasses that of a human, looking at his injuries now, could they even be called wounds?

“But the real question is, how do we find Qiubai?” the bear asked, puzzled.

If they were to sail from one island to another, the North Sea wasn’t exactly vast, but searching for a single person within it was no small matter.

Finding a person in the ocean was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

So, it was a valid question; searching aimlessly was out of the question—they needed a method.

Fortunately, Aine had a human directional compass. She pulled out a piece of paper from somewhere… Pepo took a look, only to find it was a blank sheet with no markings.

“What’s this?”

“Are you really from the New World? It’s a Life Card.”

The bear was dismissed with disdain, blamed on his large belly and limited knowledge.

A Life Card was cutting-edge technology from the New World, a special paper infused with a person’s nail clippings combined with various other materials. It was waterproof and fireproof. Once split into two halves, no matter the distance, they would attract each other—an example of this world’s rare long-distance magnetic field sensing technology.

It even had a feedback function, representing the owner’s vitality. Simply put, the Life Card would shrink when its owner weakened and return to its original size when the owner regained health. When it gradually turned to ash, it signified the owner’s death was near.

However, the one in Aine’s hand showed no change. The reason was simple—it wasn’t Qiubai’s Life Card, but Aine’s own.

Pepo’s ignorance wasn’t surprising; after all, they were a species living atop elephants, unfamiliar with human customs. Riding elephants everywhere, they rarely dismounted, so what use did they have for Life Cards?

After Aine’s brief explanation, Pepo understood the purpose of the device—essentially, it was a tracker for Qiubai.

“Do you get it now?”

“What?”

Pepo stared at the paper for five minutes but saw nothing to understand, except that it was slowly moving in one direction, as if being pulled by an unseen force.

But Aine’s question wasn’t about that.

“The Life Card’s movement direction keeps shifting, which means Qiubai is on the move.” It was this movement that gave Aine a glimmer of hope amidst her worry.

Such subtle changes were probably only noticeable to women or mother bears. Pepo certainly didn’t see it.

“Anyway, with the Life Card, navigating the sea shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“The direction is clear, but…”

“But?”

“But we don’t have a ship.” Pepo said helplessly. There was no way he could swim across now.

Aine pointed first at Pepo, then at herself. “What do you think you are? And what am I?”

“...Pirates. We’re both pirates.”

Pirates never lacked anything. Since they lived by the principle of “what’s yours is mine,” they never truly needed to worry about ships—there were always plenty docked at the harbor.

After the scheduled contact didn’t arrive on time, Aine and Pepo boarded a ship of unknown ownership and set sail to search for Qiubai.

——

Several days later, elsewhere.

“I feel… like I might have a perforated intestine?” Qiubai, still unconscious, suddenly opened his eyes.

He was startled by his dry, hoarse voice, then waves of unbearable pain surged through his entire body.

“You’re awake?”

The doctor caring for him nodded to a marine guard outside the door, signaling him to report the situation, then continued speaking:

“You’ve got perforations all over your intestines. I really don’t know how you survived.”

Or rather, the question was how he managed to evade critical blows during such a dense assault—he must have twisted his body to an extraordinary degree to do so.

As a medical professional, the doctor was naturally curious about this rare case, but he also knew the patient shouldn’t speak much, so he restrained himself.

The doctor meticulously recorded Qiubai’s vital signs. Rationally, he was pondering the limits of the human body; emotionally, he admired the patient’s resilience. Anyone doubting him was welcome to try stabbing themselves to see how it felt.

Hence, the doctor did his best to provide care.

Qiubai could now proudly declare, “The scars on my back are a swordsman’s shame—self-inflicted wounds don’t count,” though once healed, he wouldn’t carry visible scars anyway.

After enduring wave after wave of agony, Qiubai gradually became aware of some changes within himself. Unconsciously, he sensed many strange sounds.

It wasn’t a side effect of using the “Whale Lion” technique, nor was it deafness. Simply put, it felt as if those sounds were transmitted directly into his mind from afar.

“So that’s how it is…”

Qiubai thought quietly, as understanding dawned on the changes in his body.

“Teacher Ryoma was right—some extraordinary powers develop faster through suppressing one’s limits and breaking through potential than by following a step-by-step training regimen.”

Of course, before he could freely wield this new power, the current ordeal only increased his mental stress.

Surveying his surroundings, Qiubai realized he was still aboard the same pirate ship. He wanted to ask how long he had been unconscious, but just then…

“They’re here.”

Though swaddled like a prisoner, Qiubai’s mood wasn’t bad. After all, he finally had a new toy to play with.

Minutes later, just as he expected, someone entered the room—it was the same sergeant as before.

“Doctor, has Baphomet woken up?”

Qiubai’s mind stalled for a moment before he realized Baphomet referred to himself. Immediately, he sensed a growing hostility.

If they were only speaking of the seven deadly sins, it should be Satan himself, not Baphomet. Why wasn’t it Lucifer?

Well, he should be grateful they didn’t call him Asmodeus.

Qiubai opened his mouth as if to say something. The sergeant immediately leaned in, then instantly believed this man was indeed a bounty hunter.

Qiubai spoke—

“325 million Beli.”

He remembered it clearly. Doesn’t unconsciousness come with amnesia? Why not give the navy a little cut?

Life is but a play, reliant on performance. Qiubai was an artist willing to dedicate his life to the craft.