CHAPTER 483: 483. SCALLOP GRATIN

On a floating island that is flying somewhere within the endless sea, silence fell as a ripple of light shimmered in the air.

A figure descended slowly, carried by unseen hands. She was lowered gently onto the stony ground, the person was placing her there with care.

From her perspective, the world shifted unnaturally. The surrounding colors deepened, became saturated, layered like painted glass. Countless indescribable figures— shadows, lights, and forms she couldn’t comprehend —flashed across her vision in a blur. When the strange kaleidoscope of reality returned to normal, Masha instinctively turned her head to thank the one who had delivered her.

But no one was there.

The figure had already vanished, leaving her alone in the dim corner.

"Is that my Real Body? But Why can’t I feel her connection?"

The girl was Masha— or, more precisely, one of her clones.

Her golden hair, long and faintly curled, glimmered faintly under the lantern light. She stood silently, sizing up her surroundings with wide eyes. In front of her was a thick wooden door, weathered with age. From the other side came a raucous din—clinking cups, drunken laughter, bawdy songs, and the unmistakable stench of strong liquor.

Masha hesitated. Her hands trembled slightly beneath the cloak she pulled tightly around her thin frame. Still, she took a cautious step forward.

With a small breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The noise hit her like a wave.

The tavern was crammed with men dressed in pirate garb—coarse shirts, leather belts heavy with pistols and curved scimitars, boots caked in salt and sand. The air was thick with alcohol and smoke. They drank and argued loudly, boasting of their fleets, the battles they’d fought, and the treasures they’d plundered.

Among them were women dressed in flamboyant gowns, their laughter as sharp as bells, flitting between tables like butterflies in a storm.

And there, in the middle of it all, was Masha—wrapped in her long, dark-colored cloak, her blonde hair spilling out around her shoulders. Her mature, elegant features carried an air of grace, but her expression of fear betrayed her heart.

To these hardened men, she looked like a trembling lamb that had stumbled into a den of wolves.

Eyes turned. Conversations faltered.

The contrast was too stark. Her very presence drew their attention, making her feel as though she had stepped beneath a spotlight.

Masha’s clone was built on one dominant trait—fear. Unlike her original self, this fragment of her soul could barely withstand intimidation. Every glance sent shivers through her. Every whispered laugh seemed directed at her.

Her thoughts spiraled. Where am I? What am I doing here? Who are these people?

Before she could steady herself, a shadow loomed in front of her.

A plump man, greasy hair slicked back, pushed through the crowd. His lips curled into a grin as his eyes roamed her figure with unashamed hunger. In broken, heavily accented language, he spat out an offer:

"...1000 Lydia, one night!"

A few drunken pirates burst into laughter at his audacity.

Masha froze, the blood draining from her face. Yet, though this body was a clone, the essence of the true Masha lingered within. Instinct rose above fear.

Her lips curved into the faintest smile—unnerving in its quietness. Her eyes flickered, light gathering there, then narrowing to a single, sharp point.

In that moment, something changed.

An aura seeped out of her making everyone tremble. The atmosphere thickened, and the laughter died abruptly. The plump man faltered, taking a step back. Around her, people avoided her gaze without realizing why.

Masha tilted her head, muttering to herself. "Hmph... my mission... yes. I just have to wait here until... Tyler White finds me. How did my real body knows that he will find me here?"

Then he walked forward and ordered a drink.

---

Back aboard the Shadow Pearl, the ship glided silently through an old Level 3 Fishery. Once, this place had thrived—its islands dotted with facilities. Now, it lay in ruin, abandoned and forgotten, with only crumbled watchtowers and half-sunken docks to whisper of its past glory.

Though forsaken, the sea here still held its lure. At dawn, fishermen and wandering travelers often came to cast their lines, hoping to snatch treasures and catch fishes from the depths. But by nightfall, the place was deserted. No one dared linger after the sun sank.

No one, except the Shadow Pearl.

Shrouded in arrays and cloaked by layers of concealment, the ship was like a shadow within shadows— drifting so quietly across the black waters that not even the smallest fish stirred in its wake.

Inside the ship’s kitchen, warmth and light banished the eerie silence outside.

"First, ignite the Flame Cauldron and set its heat to the level of a Blazing Yang Fire," Taka instructed. His voice was firm, steady, carrying the authority of a seasoned chef-general commanding his brigade.

Several assistants bustled about, obeying his orders with practiced efficiency.

"Prepare two Jade Gratin Dishes," Taka continued, pointing with a tentacle at the stone counter. "Brush them with one spoon of Melted Moonlight Essence Butter—don’t overdo it, or you’ll smother the radiance."

Golden liquid gleamed under the firelight as one assistant carefully measured it out.

Meanwhile, Taka worked with his own hands. In a Celestial Mixing Bowl, he began whisking ingredients with precise strokes: Cloud Cream Essence (a spirit-rich crème fraîche), Spirit Dew Wine (a crisp white vintage from Azure Isles), Sun-Citrus Zest, a pinch of Fiend Pepper Dust, and a careful dash of Refined Star Salt.

The mixture swirled into a smooth, flowing cream, luminous as if it carried the tranquility of a mountain spring.

"Now, the Azure Tide Scallops," Taka announced. Assistants handed him shells freshly harvested from the Spirit Market on the Dragon Boat. Their flesh pulsed faintly with aura. He slid them into the sauce, swirling gently, allowing the flavors to bind.

"Five breaths," Taka reminded. "The harmony must settle."

The room grew fragrant, the air thick with an aroma that stirred even the weary hearts of the crew.

After the wait, Taka divided the scallops into the Jade Dishes. He poured the sauce over them, finishing with a sprinkling of Emerald Tarragon Leaves and shards of Celestial Parmigiana Crystal—an aged spirit cheese so brittle it cracked like crystal under the knife. A final drizzle of Moonlight Essence Butter gave the dish a shimmering glaze.

"Into the Flame Cauldron," he ordered. The assistants slid the dishes inside.

The cauldron flared to life. Four mortal minutes passed, the scallops baking gently until they glowed with infused essence. Then Taka raised the fire to a Sky-Broil Flame. The golden sheen deepened, the flesh firming yet tender, their fragrance rich enough to make mouths water.

When the cauldron lid opened, the aroma spilled out— an intoxicating scent that seemed to cross even the boundaries of cultivation.

"Mmm..." Darla entered just then, rolling up her sleeves, her eyes narrowing with delight. "Spirit-Grilled Mystic Shellfish Gratin... the aroma alone could lure an Immortal out of meditation."

She grinned, stepping beside Taka. "Move aside. Take out some rare ingredients we bought —let’s make something to rival your gratin."

---

On the deck, Myrtle stood alone, gazing out at the vast dark waters.

Her bluish body shimmered faintly, casting a soft glow across the waves. The sea responded in kind—schools of fish illuminated themselves, scattering in streaks of light that traced luminous paths ahead.

It was beautiful, almost sacred, as though the ocean itself recognized Myrtle and bowed to her.

Above, the heavens were moonless, a starless canvas of black. And so the light below shone brighter, making the ship’s passage a glowing dream adrift upon a sea of shadows.

Then a voice broke the stillness. She also smelled a delicious Aroma.

"What are you doing?" Tyler asked as he gave her the gratin.

Myrtle didn’t flinch. She glanced back at the food and accepted it. As she placed it in her mouth, she smiled, "It’s delicious."

After a few seconds later,

"I’m... communicating with the sea creatures," Myrtle replied, her voice soft but steady. "They’re guiding us."

Tyler looked at the waters where glowing fish darted aside to open a safe path. His brows lifted, impressed.

"So that’s why Zuzia was so confident we could travel at night without any problems," he mused aloud.

Because the truth of these waters was darker than ordinary men knew. Some seas held shadows no lantern could pierce—depths that swallowed even spirit-lights, where unknown things slumbered. To venture through them blind was folly. But Myrtle had become their compass, their beacon.

For a moment, silence stretched between them, filled only by the lap of water and the shimmering dance of light.

Then Myrtle’s voice wavered.

"S-So... are you really going to push me down?"

Tyler froze. His face didn’t change, but inwardly his heart screamed: Who’s spreading this slander about me?!

"Who said that?" he asked calmly.

"N-nothing." Myrtle looked away quickly, cheeks faintly flushed with embarrassment. Her glow flickered nervously.

She tried to change the subject, but her words faltered midway. Her eyes widened.

"Hey... am I tripping—or are those skulls?"

Tyler followed her gaze.

Out on the horizon, floating on the water’s surface, were faintly glowing shapes. They were red, neon-bright against the black sea. One by one, they sharpened into form —skulls, hundreds of them, drifting yet unmoving, their hollow eyes burning faintly.

And every single skull was turned toward the Shadow Pearl.

Tyler’s breath caught. Myrtle stepped closer to him, her glow dimming.

The night had grown colder.

The ocean had grown stranger.

And the skulls... were watching.