Two days later, Zhang Jiuxuan and Lin Weiyao boarded a private cruiser bound for Malacca City.
The warm sea breeze carried the scent of salt and frangipani, and the waters glowed bright turquoise under the sun.
But Zhang Jiuxuan stood at the bow, his brow furrowed, the jade seal tucked safely in his cloth bag pulsing faintly with unease.
“The dragon vein here is frayed,” he said.
“Like someone’s been pulling at the threads for months.” Lin Weiyao nodded.
“I heard the royal family is hosting a ceremonial cruise this week.
They’re planning to dive near the old Portuguese shipwrecks to recover a historical artifact.
But three divers have already vanished without a trace.” Before he could finish, a sleek white yacht flying the royal flag came into view ahead.
It drifted dead in the water, its decks silent, no crew moving anywhere.
“That’s the royal vessel,” Lin Weiyao said, frowning.
“Something’s wrong.
They should be preparing for the ceremony right now.” As their cruiser pulled alongside, Zhang Jiuxuan leaped lightly onto the yacht’s deck.
The air here was thick and cold, smelling of brine and rotten iron.
Every crew member and guest stood frozen like statues, their eyes glazed over, their shadows stretching long and twisted even under the bright sun.
“Sleep curse,” Zhang Jiuxuan muttered.
“Deep enough to trap even royal guards.” He moved quickly to the main salon, where a group of people stood huddled around a glass display case.
Inside lay a heavy golden crown studded with rubies—an ancient heirloom said to hold the blessing of Malacca’s old sea kings.
Standing over them was a tall figure wrapped in a cloak of iridescent scales, his face hidden behind a silver mask carved with ocean waves.
In his hand, he held a jagged dagger that dripped glowing blue venom.
“Another scavenger,” the figure said, his voice like grinding stones.
“This crown belongs to the deep.
No land-dweller has the right to touch it.” “Then why did you wait until humans dug it up to steal it?” Zhang Jiuxuan asked, stepping into the room.
“You don’t serve the ocean.
You serve the Black Cross.” The figure stiffened, then threw back his head and laughed.
“So the little Taoist can see through the veil.
Good.
Then you know I’m not alone.” He snapped his fingers.
The floorboards creaked and rotted away, and half a dozen creatures crawled up from the hull—humanoid shapes covered in slimy scales, their fingers ending in long, hooked claws, their mouths filled with rows of needle-sharp teeth.
“Deep ones,” Zhang Jiuxuan said.
“Twisted by blood magic until they forget they were once people.” He flicked his sleeve, and a handful of rice grains scattered across the floor.
They burst into golden light, forming into tiny armored soldiers that charged at the scaled creatures.
The deep ones shrieked and slashed, but every blow only passed through glowing mist, while the tiny soldiers struck true, burning away the curse clinging to their flesh.
The masked leader snarled and lunged at Zhang Jiuxuan, the venomous dagger aimed straight for his heart.
Zhang Jiuxuan didn’t draw a weapon—he simply tilted his head, caught the man’s wrist in one hand, and twisted hard.
There was a sharp crack.
The dagger clattered to the floor.
“Who sent you?” Zhang Jiuxuan demanded.
“Where is the second seal fragment?” The masked man spat blue blood.
“The Duke of the Tides already took it!
He waits at the old sunken port.
By the time you get there, the whole strait will be his!” He wrenched free and smashed his fist into the floor.
The glass display case shattered.
He snatched the golden crown and leaped through the broken window, diving straight into the sea below.
Zhang Jiuxuan rushed to the rail—but the water was already calm, no ripple left behind.
He turned back, pressing two fingers to the forehead of the nearest frozen guard.
A soft golden glow spread from his touch, and one by one, the crew and guests stirred, gasping and blinking as the sleep curse lifted.
An elderly man in a decorated uniform stepped forward, his face pale but steady.
“I am Sultan Ahmad.
Thank you, young master.
That creature… he spoke of a Duke of the Tides.
What does this mean for Malacca?” “It means the Black Cross isn’t just digging up land,” Zhang Jiuxuan said gravely.
“They’re dragging the ocean itself into their war.
And if they finish what they’ve started, not just Malacca—every shore in Southeast Asia will drown.” He looked south, toward the dark blue waters where the old port had sunk six hundred years ago.
“Get your best divers ready,” he told the sultan.
“And tell your ships to keep clear of the strait after dark.
I’m going to pay this duke a visit.”