Chapter 472: Gravitational Vortex |
The Lanyang Ocean, stretching between the two great continents, was the busiest maritime corridor in peacetime. Tens of thousands of ships passed through each day, making it critically important.
Hundreds of nations on both continents relied heavily on this sea lane for trade and transport. Even after entering the era governed by the Doomsday Rules, when most countries withered away, the two strongest nations on the continents remained.
Beixing and Suroma, the two superpowers still propping up international society, continued to need this route to carry goods and exchange resources. If the route were cut off, whether by circumnavigating the ocean or using other means, transport costs would skyrocket, something completely unacceptable in the current resource-scarce age.
Now that the new rule’s “bright moon” was set in the center of Lanyang, it had to be a carefully chosen spot by the Fire Thief, the intent clearly to sever this shipping lane.
But the Lanyang Ocean is vast, and the central area covers a huge range. Before the bright moon appears, its exact location cannot be pinpointed. Therefore, the Human Consortium dispatched over a hundred scouts across different submarines, spread out like a wide net underwater. Whoever finds the target first would surface and send out a communication.
The Human Consortium also urgently redeployed a large quantity of shore-based missiles to the remaining military bases that ring the sea area, ready to launch at a moment’s notice.
On the edge of one island base, in a rock cave not far from the beach, two people sat inside, staring out at the sea.
“Unless the bright moon rises high enough to break the surface, those missiles probably won’t be of much use. They’re just decorations,” Guan Tong said.
Uenoshi, standing beside him, nodded slightly. The blue ocean reflected in her pupils, which glowed with a faint green light.
“After the bright moon appears, I can dive close to the seabed for reconnaissance,” Uenoshi said. “My bloodline ability comes from a deep-sea serpent. The scales covering my body let me resist pressure, and—”
She touched her neck. Guan Tong asked, “You’re not going to tell me you sprouted gills like a fish and can breathe underwater, right?”
“No, it’s scales. These scales on my neck actually let me breathe underwater. That way I can dive deep without any diving gear.”
“...That still won’t work. Don’t forget the bright moon has gravity; it can capture everything around it as part of itself.”
Guan Tong, not yet clear on the gravitational sphere’s strength, of course wouldn’t allow Uenoshi to take unnecessary risks.
He raised his right hand as he spoke. Uenoshi looked closely and saw that each of his fingers was wrapped with numerous extremely thin, dense black lines. The black lines ran along his fingers and extended into the ground; their unseen portions had clearly pierced the island and reached deep into the ocean.
“I’ve deployed the Sky-Scale shadow lines; they’ve dispersed and slipped into the sea. When nine o’clock hits and the bright moon appears, we should be able to find it quickly.”
Uenoshi nodded.
There was still some time until nine o’clock. Guan Tong asked about Uenoshi’s recent situation in Sakura Prayer.
“How’s your Serpent Hair Society doing?”
“Not bad,” Uenoshi said. “The personnel have stabilized for now. We’ve started collecting intelligence and earning income. If things go well, you, Troupe Leader, won’t have to finance us much longer. We’ll begin recouping funds soon.”
From nothing, the Serpent Hair Society’s startup had required a large investment of Ascension Coins, which Guan Tong had been shouldering. Hearing that funds would return soon, he was naturally pleased.
He was just a little curious about how that recovery would happen specifically.
“Will the number of Ascendants in Antu and Bandzhen provide you enough fees? What intelligence will they be buying?”
“Right now our main income comes from providing transaction guarantees,” Uenoshi explained. “Sakura Prayer people are insular and bound by many strange rules. They prefer trading only with other Sakura Prayer people, distrust outsiders, and avoid online transactions. What the Serpent Hair Society offers is personal security for both parties during real-world trades, and we earn guarantee fees from that.”
“I see.”
Guan Tong thought Sakura Prayer people indeed fit Uenoshi’s description—closed, rule-heavy, and highly xenophobic. Those traits hadn’t changed even after their territory sank; the survivors remained the same.
And it was true they didn’t like online transactions. As the Administrator of Ascendant Home, Guan Tong knew this well. From his website backend he could see user IP locations; IPs clustered in Bandzhen and Antu were almost invisible.
“So the Serpent Hair Society must have replaced some people’s previous niche,” Guan Tong guessed. Before the society, someone else must have been providing guarantees.
“Before, it was separate underground gangs, each controlling their own turf. Even some Peace Officers took part. We cleaned those gangs out. Now in these two cities only we can provide guarantees.”
“...Well done.”
Paying gangs for protection is called paying protection fees; paying Peace Officers for guarantees is called paying ‘security tax.’ Since something had to be paid, Uenoshi’s pitch—’why not pay the Serpent Hair Society instead’—was hardly unreasonable. Ultimately this competition comes down to strength.
In both Sakura Prayer cities, neither the gangs nor the local Peace Officers could handle Uenoshi alone, especially with Guan Tong backing her.
They chatted for a while until Guan Tong checked his wristwatch.
“8:59. One more minute until the bright moon is born. Get ready.”
......
“My goodness, no wonder they say submarine crews have the best treatment among all branches. I’d say they should be number one!”
Deep within the Lanyang Ocean, inside a submarine, a young man wiped the sweat constantly beading on his forehead and exclaimed.
Two others sat opposite him—three people squeezed into a cramped compartment, all drenched in sweat and miserable.
Each possessed remote reconnaissance abilities or specialized items and had been assigned to the scouting team, descending with the submarine to its maximum depth, waiting to observe the bright moon.
Originally they were excited, since such extra work came with high subsidies. The Ascension Coins paid for this mission far exceeded the rewards for completing rule challenges. If they performed well, they might be elevated into the Countermeasures Research Office—one of the best posts.
But their excitement quickly turned to complaints after boarding the submarine.
The interior was hot and humid; after only a short time they were sweating non-stop, barely ever dry.
The space was cramped, and without portholes it felt like being trapped in a metal can under the sea—imagine how uncomfortable that would be.
“I heard most submarine crews can’t stay in here more than two months or they’ll go insane.”
“I can’t even last one day in this environment! Forget two months!”
“Hang on for the mission. If reconnaissance goes well, we’ll be back today.”
They chattered continuously to distract themselves. When nine o’clock arrived, they followed their task plan.
Each used their gear or abilities to probe through the hull.
One person’s item was essentially a map; when opened, it displayed newly appeared objects within a certain range.
Another had the Heavenly Eye ability, granting super-vision like a thousand-mile gaze to see very distant things.
After searching, they glanced at each other.
“Any finds?”
“None here. You?”
“Nothing.”
“Looks like the bright moon didn’t appear nearby.”
“I think so too. The rule said it emits light; a self-luminous sphere would stand out in the pitch-black deep sea. If we can’t find it, it must not be here.”
“Go tell the captain and surface to receive signals. See if other teams found anything.”
Similar scenes played out on many submarines. The Human Consortium deployed hundreds of subs in this sea region; the vast majority came up empty.
But on one Suroma submarine, the Goddess of Fortune, its assigned Ascendant in charge of reconnaissance discovered something.
“I hear it!” the young man shouted. His ears fluttered rapidly, as if fanning.
The few Suroma crew around him exchanged looks; they’d worked submarines for years and heard nothing beyond the machinery hum.
They did know the recruit had a special reconnaissance ability—the main form of his power centered on those ears—so it wasn’t entirely surprising he could hear what they couldn’t.
“What do you hear?” the captain asked.
“A frequency! A very unusual frequency!”
The young man wore an excited expression. His ears had always been more sensitive than others’; he could hear frequencies ordinary people could not.
After the Doomsday Rules arrived, he’d been overjoyed to gain super-hearing. Everything in the world, from people to objects, emitted frequencies beyond his ears’ reach before, but now they could not escape him. Right now he heard an extremely special frequency, coming from the deep trench directly under the sub!
“That frequency is chaotic yet harmonious, calm yet raging... I’ve never heard such a complex and contradictory frequency before. Incredible, absolutely incredible!”
The captain saw the kid muttering in his own world and punched his shoulder. “Snap out of it! How far away is that frequency?”
The young man glared at the captain from the pain but remembered his duty and tilted his head to listen a moment longer. Unsure, he said, “It’s far. More than five kilometers.”
“You can hear something over five kilometers away?!”
“I hear frequencies, not sounds!” the youth protested a little. “In theory frequencies can propagate infinitely... as long as my ability keeps developing...?”
He tilted his head again, sensing something unusual but unable to lock onto it.
Suddenly a shrill alarm blared through the submarine.
“Chew! Chew! Chew! Chew!”
“Captain! Trouble!” the technician shouted. “There’s an anomaly deep beneath our hull. The submarine is rotating and sinking uncontrollably. It seems a vortex is forming down in the trench!”
“Damn it! The sphere’s gravity must be in effect now, pulling the surrounding water in!” The captain hadn’t expected such an effect at this distance. The instant the sphere appeared, its gravity was extraordinarily strong.
“Full speed, get away from here!”
Everyone on the submarine scrambled. Only the reconnaissance youth stood frozen. He closed his eyes and listened to the frequency, panic rising as he muttered, “No, it’s not weakening...”
As if confirming his words, shouts echoed from the control room.
“We can’t escape the vortex’s pull—our propulsion isn’t enough!”
“It just formed minutes ago—how can the gravity be this strong?”
“We’re still sinking. We’re about to cross the pressure limit the hull can withstand!”
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
The submarine’s alarms grew more piercing. If the hull pressure limit was exceeded, mechanical systems would fail and the sub would be crushed by water pressure, becoming an iron coffin for dozens aboard.
“It’s over...” The executive officer slumped after his controls failed. “The sub has lost control. We... we’ve been caught by the bright moon’s gravitational vortex...”
“Shit!” The captain rushed out and grabbed the reconnaissance youth’s collar. “You must have a teleportation item—teleport everyone off now!”
The youth’s eyes widened. “I—I don’t have one. Teleportation items are so expensive, I can’t afford one!”
“What? The authorities didn’t provide you with one?!”
The captain looked at the youth and shook his head in despair.
The sub’s engines couldn’t break free from the vortex, and without teleportation items they were trapped kilometers underwater. Opening the hatch would instantly kill them all under ten-megapascal seabed pressure... there was absolutely no way out.
“No, I don’t want to die!”
“Who will save us...?”
Faced with this brutal reality, every crew member began to collapse inward with despair.
Boom!
The hull suddenly jolted violently, knocking people off their feet as if they’d struck something.
Yet the executive officer in the control room suddenly cried out with surprise, “Altitude... the sub’s altitude has stopped falling! It’s rising—the sub is rising!”
What?!
Everyone was incredulous. The previously hopeless crew rushed into the control room and stared at the console, stunned to see the depth indicator slowly climbing. How could this be?
“How is this possible? We were caught by the vortex—by rights we should keep sinking until pressure breaks the hull and kills us all... how can we be rising?”
Recalling the earlier jolt, the captain’s mind leaped. “Could something be exerting force against the vortex, pushing the submarine upward? Quick! Use that force to ascend—max thrust, and fire all torpedoes and missiles to lighten the sub’s load!”