Chapter Forty-Seven: Soul of the Sea

Mulan had managed to buy peppers that could add a spicy kick to her dishes. She prepared fried eggs, stir-fried beef with hot peppers, and sautéed greens. True to the essence of Chinese cuisine, she didn't shy away from using high heat, generous oil, and a variety of seasonings. While not every spice was a perfect match, Mulan did her best to approximate authentic flavors when shopping for ingredients. Today was her first attempt, but the rich aroma of her food easily drifted far from the chimney of her small building.

A sizzle echoed from the kitchen as peppers and strips of beef were tossed together in the pan. The unexpected richness of the scent came from stir-frying with butter; the pungency of the peppers blended perfectly with the savory fragrance of the beef. Mulan used only beef fat and salt as seasoning, yet she was confident the dish would be delicious—she found herself swallowing repeatedly at the mere aroma during the cooking process.

Having once worked alone in a strange city, cooking was an essential skill for Mulan.

A knock sounded at the door, and Mulan couldn’t help but smile.

‘How could such a glutton resist coming over?’

She put down her spatula and glanced at the entryway, her eyes pausing on the doorbell. If it had been Dolly, the music lover, she would have rung the bell; since it remained silent, it was likely not her.

Another knock came.

Mulan walked over and opened the door to find Walton standing outside with a radiant grin.

“Wow, Mulan! Surprised to see me? I bet you’ve explained everything to the girls who admire me, right?”

Mulan’s lips twitched slightly. “I did my best.”

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

She stepped aside, gesturing him in. “Please, if you haven’t had dinner yet, you’re welcome to join me.”

“A true gentleman never refuses such kindness!” Walton entered at once, took off his hat and placed it on the rack, striding toward the kitchen with the ease of someone in his own home. He even leaned over the stove to see what Mulan was cooking.

As Mulan closed the door and returned, she saw Walton wafting the aroma from the pan toward his nose.

“What a creative way to cook,” he remarked, turning to look at Mulan. “How are you settling into Black Castle? I hear Her Majesty holds you in high regard.”

“Thanks to your care, I’m doing quite well. Please, have a seat. The food will be ready soon.”

Walton quickly found a place at the dining table, set out his cutlery, removed his gloves, and waited as the rich aroma filled the air. Mulan’s dishes were ready in short order.

Scrambled eggs, sautéed greens, and beef with hot peppers—all cooked with butter.

Mulan sat down, placed some spicy beef onto a slice of bread, and made a special sandwich. “Help yourself.”

Walton rubbed his hands together and followed suit. After his first bite, his eyes widened in surprise at how much better it tasted than it even smelled. Coming over after catching that aroma had been the right decision.

“Mulan, do you know what I went out for today?”

“Can I know?” she asked between bites.

He smiled. “Nothing much. Have you heard of the Pirate Wars?”

“No,” Mulan replied, shaking her head.

Walton bit into his bread, then forked some egg into his mouth. After swallowing, he continued, “There are several powerful pirate factions at sea, prowling the dangerous oceans, charting routes, plundering passing ships, and battling sea monsters. They’re brutal, but they have their own code. Sometimes, whole fleets of pirate ships dare to challenge even the navies of great nations. Of course, now that steel warships are the norm, few pirate islands would dare such a thing.”

“Right now, the order among pirates is more chaotic than ever—not only in the Western Ocean, but likely across the world. Pirate islands are all embroiled in mutual raids and plunder.”

“Why is that?” Mulan asked, half out of curiosity, half to guide Walton along.

“There are many reasons. Besides the lure of enormous hidden treasures left by old pirates, the deaths of several pirate leaders have thrown things into turmoil. Oh, by the way—”

Walton stuffed another bite of spicy beef sandwich into his mouth, wiped his hands with a handkerchief, then strode to the entryway to retrieve his hat. He held the hat brim up, flicked it with a snap, and then turned it upside down.

A moment later, a curved saber slid out of the hat.

Mulan swallowed her food, stunned by the spectacle. Was Walton a magician?

With a deft motion, Walton caught the blade in his right hand and raised it. The scabbard was a deep red, adorned with golden filigree and several red and blue gemstones. The blade itself was slightly curved, about four fingers wide with the scabbard on, and about a meter long with the hilt.

“How about it? It’s a fine blade, isn’t it? Mulan, I heard you’re skilled with swords and knives. This blade is called Sea Soul—it once belonged to the Skull King of the Western Ocean. Now, it’s yours!”

With that, Walton tossed the saber to Mulan, who hurriedly set down her cutlery and caught it with a resounding slap.

The weight was immediately apparent, the grip cool to the touch. Drawn by a swordsman's instinct, Mulan gently unsheathed the blade. The friction between steel and scabbard produced a melodious note; cold light glinted along the edge—sharp, resilient, with a blood groove...

Mulan flicked the blade, and it sang with a clear, resonant note, as if the roar of the ocean could be heard within.

This was a peerless sword, and Mulan sensed at once it held a mysterious power.

At that very moment, far away in another lakeside cottage at Black Castle, Dolly, soaking in her bath, suddenly sat up in alarm, turning her head in a certain direction.

“Sir, did you kill the Skull King?” Mulan asked, gripping the saber, unable not to speculate, her mind racing with scenarios. But Walton quickly shook his head.

“Oh, no, no, no, I couldn’t possibly kill him—not at sea, at least. But obtaining this saber doesn’t necessarily mean you have to face the Skull King directly. By the way, the Skull King used this blade to behead no fewer than ten sea monsters—ten, all of them true extraordinary beings!”

Walton pronounced each word with deliberate emphasis, a dramatic smile on his face.

Mulan slid the blade back into its scabbard, goosebumps prickling her skin. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a faint aura around Walton—a shadowy figure in a hat. Walton’s upturned lips stretched into a crescent within the darkness, eerie and surreal.

“By the way, new recruits usually have a physical assessment in six months, but you’re exempt. Tomorrow, I’ll have someone prepare your Awakening Elixir. We’re not into rituals here. You’re free to consult the various paths of Black Castle; that’s a privilege I’m granting you. I imagine the Imperial Family will also allow you to choose from among their private paths. Choose as you like—just serve the Empire faithfully.”

Having said all this, Walton dove back into the meal, quickly finishing half the dishes—no more, no less. He wiped his mouth, stood up, and announced, “A truly delicious meal, but I suppose you’d prefer I not stay the night.”

“Sir, this sword...”

“You dare not take it?”

Walton watched as Mulan set the blade down, then smiled, donned his hat, opened the door, and stepped out alone.

“No need to see me out—I still have much to do tonight!”

The door closed behind him with a bang.

Mulan stared at the sword on the table, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. The pommel was set with a crystal-clear eyeball.

Her breathing grew rapid; excitement mingled with a profound and intense fear.

Walton walked along the roads of Black Castle, suddenly raising his head toward the main gate as countless crows took to the sky.

Shrill cries filled the night as the crows scattered in every direction.