The liner passed through the storm and approached the lighthouse.

A small-scale harbor entered the sights of the captain, sailors, and passengers through the gloomy rain.

A short while later, a man in his thirties, who was wearing a blue uniform and holding onto a black umbrella and a glass lantern, appeared at the dock. He used rather uncommon actions to guide the liner to moor.

As the man watched the gangway lower, he opened his mouth and shouted, “Hey matey, where d’ya come from?”

After most of his voice was swallowed by the wind, his voice successfully reached the liner’s interior and entered Alfred’s ears.

“Do you know what this place is?” Alfred looked carefully at his adjutant and squire.

He wasn’t wearing a general’s ceremonial attire. Wearing a black trench coat that was commonly seen in Backlund, his dazzling blond hair drooped down casually, and his blue eyes looked like a deep lake in a forest.

The adjutant, who had neatly combed his hair to the back, first shook his head to indicate his uncertainty before he explained, “The storm from before made me lose my bearings.”

At this moment, the captain held an umbrella and came to the shipboard. He answered the man, “We left East Balam two days ago and unfortunately encountered a storm.

“What harbor is this?”

The man’s eyes darted around for a moment. Without giving a direct answer, he shouted, “Wait a moment, will ya?”

He then turned around, holding the umbrella and the lantern as he ran towards the buildings near the dock.

This reaction was beyond the expectations of Alfred and the other passengers, but it wasn’t strange for the experienced ship captain, first mate, and others—they had encountered many abnormalities at the ports along the Berserk Sea. This made them patiently wait for subsequent developments.

Five to six minutes later, the man led a lady over.

The woman didn’t have an umbrella and was wearing a hooded raincoat smeared with Donningsman Tree Sap.

As the two of them approached the liner, under the watch of the armed sailors, they climbed up the gangway to the deck.

At such a distance, most of the passengers finally saw what the two of them looked like.

The man had brown hair and brown eyes. His skin was rough, and it was obvious that he was of a lower socioeconomic status and had suffered the elements. The woman was in her twenties, and her eyes were limpid green. She had long, flaxen hair. A few wet strands clung to her face, making her appear pure and charming.

This was a rather pretty lady with a wild temperament.

“Hi there, this is Utopia Harbor,” the man impatiently introduced, “I’m Theodore, the interim port cap’n.”

was happy that he

port captain” meant. He didn’t take it to heart about this sudden

and said, “Utopia Harbor? Why haven’t

at him and said, “What ye said is quite

it weren’t for that landlubber hurricane, ye might

else, the lady rushed forward and said, “Utopia isn’t on the safe sea route. Usually, only people who understand

tell what she meant? And in times like this, tacitly acknowledging

acknowledged and

“I’m the owner

will provide you with stable beds, warm water, clean

you guys can still drink at the nearby bar

this lady was here to solicit

captain was rather alert and didn’t respond directly. He nodded and said, “I can’t decide on behalf of the passengers. They are free to choose for themselves. Of course,

“I’ll wait at the hotel

certain amount of education. She wasn’t as hot and spirited as the women at other ports

with a sullen expression, “You have to thank me for

right hand pressed against

Pa!

a jerk who should be f*cked

forward and left

his hands and cursed

suddenly moved many passengers

ship was that it was boring, and there

meet cheap street girls who were unlike those from the Northern

of them

passengers packed their luggage and prepared to

“General,

his

to be careful. Staying on the ship is

adjutant had no objections to this. He asked worriedly, “What about those who

window expressionlessly. “If an accident happens, we can only keep more people safe. If it’s not serious,

that said, he turned to look at his adjutant and

keep watch tonight to prevent any

interacted with the Numinous Episcopate, the Rose School of Thought, and other organizations in the Southern Continent, had an instinctive sense of

into bed, listening to the strong winds hitting the glass windows and the torrential rain pattering the deck.

sad

from a flute, intermittent like a

was instantly immersed in the music. It was as though he had returned to Backlund, which always appeared in his dreams. He returned to a state that was a mixture of his happy childhood days, the vexing times of

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