Chapter 401

The ship.

A ship as gigantic as Mount Taishan.

A fortress made by hammering steel now floats upon the sea.

This ship itself was a floating fortress, a stronghold rising above the water.

Just its sheer size radiated intimidation, and the various weapons aboard possessed more than enough power to reduce anything that dared approach it to ashes.

“Destroyer.”

Japan boasted a powerful navy.

Well, since Japan technically can’t legally maintain a standing army, they called it the Maritime Self-Defense Force. But in reality, anyone could see that it was simply a navy at its core.

This navy, however, operates with the restriction that any offensive action requires explicit permission.

Even with this limitation, the naval power of Japan was nothing to scoff at. Due to the country being an island nation, Japan had no choice but to grow accustomed to ships. Additionally, past Western forces had also demanded a strong naval presence, furthering their development in this area. Modern times saw America aiding Japan heavily in naval matters to counter the influences of Russia and China—this aid contributed significantly to Japan’s naval strength, making it nearly unparalleled.

Its strength was so formidable that it even held a reasonable chance of going head-to-head against China’s navy alone.

Of course, this calculation does include the fact that China’s naval buildup is more surface-level than substantive. Even accounting for this, the comparison of Japan’s navy to a superpower’s still speaks to how powerful it truly is.

However, due to this abnormal growth in naval power, when contrasted with the other branches, the army and the air force seemed weaker in comparison.

The defense industry’s tangled connections with politics caused many issues in funding and development. The obsession with domestic production made the costs sky-high with no price-to-quality justification. Therefore, excessive funds were required as standard, and since those allocated budgets were often misused, little improvement took place, even affecting necessary supplies.

The Air Self-Defense Force, responsible for air combat, was stuck in a situation where they operated planes vastly more expensive than those imported from abroad, all while being plagued by constant malfunctions that endangered their pilots’ lives. Meanwhile, the Ground Self-Defense Force, responsible for land combat, was heavily mired in corruption. The budget that should’ve gone to them ended up being diverted toward the navy and air force, leaving them under-resourced and overlooked.

If the strength of the Maritime Self-Defense Force could symbolize the yang, then the conditions of the Air and Ground Self-Defense Forces could easily symbolize the yin. The Air Self-Defense Force was still faring slightly better, given government attention after the maritime services, while the Ground Self-Defense Force had almost entirely been neglected.

Because of the Ground Self-Defense Force’s weakness, it became increasingly challenging to repel enemies on land, prompting the government to prioritize allocating the budget to the Navy and Air forces.

This became an ongoing vicious cycle for the Ground Self-Defense Force.

However, this situation worked to the advantage of the Maritime Self-Defense Force, allowing them to invest in better ships and armaments with the budgets taken from the other branches.

“Let’s see. The ship seems old, but it’s still equipped decently.”

Could it be the power of the diverted budget?

Even though the destroyer looked weathered, it was still well-armed.

Not necessarily the latest but certainly not outdated either, these weapons wouldn’t normally find their place on such an aging ship if budgets were truly strained.

“An old ship with somewhat serviceable weapons.”

Jinseong, however, gave a slight smile as he glanced at the weapons aboard the destroyer. It was a somber, slightly unsettling smile.

“The key isn’t the weapons…”

Weapons are important.

In war, what could be more essential than weapons?

But still.

Their opponents were not mere humans.

Weapons like these… they were largely meaningless.

Rather, something other than weapons was significant.

For instance, consecration or exorcism—measures against supernatural beings.

“Seafarers are one of the most superstitious people. Hence, even common ghosts find it hard to approach their ships.”

Seafarers were extremely superstitious.

To the extent that women were avoided on ships due to their supposed bad luck, and even in modern times, incidents of human sacrifice where people were offered as offerings to avert maritime disasters were not unheard of.

Some sailors wouldn’t shave or cut their hair for months to avoid bad fortune, while others, fearing that wealth in their bank accounts increased the likelihood of drowning, would gamble away everything they earned.

Seafarers and superstitions were deeply intertwined.

But such intense superstition wasn’t necessarily bad. It often served to protect them.

For instance, maritime workers regularly called in religious figures to consecrate or bless the ship, placing numerous talismans and strange divine objects to ward off evil. Such practices, even if strange by ordinary standards, were accepted and tolerated if they didn’t harm the individuals involved.

While several of these superstitions were ineffective, many others had genuine merit.

Take, for example, the ability to repel spirits of those drowned, or rituals that prevented those who passed away aboard the ship from becoming vengeful ghosts—or even the forewarning of impending danger to certain areas.

“How much protective measure has been taken for this old ship?”

Only this could defend against Jinseong’s attacks. Only this could act as the final barrier for the lives of those aboard against the spirits Jinseong had summoned.

It was their only lifeline.

Jinseong gave another smile as the spirits began to approach the ship.

The moment those spirits made contact with the hull, Jinseong would know just how thoroughly this ship had been fortified.

“Boing, boing. The swell feels like lying on a feather bed. The waves are so soft, like fluffy comforters covering my body. But as I reach the cold steel, it’s icy and unforgiving.”

“The bottom is encrusted with barnacles, corroded rust, and scattered dents. Heh, let’s climb aboard. Up there, something smells delicious. How could I not be delighted?”

At last, the spirits reached the ship.

Pushed by the waves, they swayed like floating debris, colliding with the ship’s hull. Upon impact, their wide, disfigured eyes rolled back, struggling to hold onto the body they had animated. The arms that jutted out awkwardly from their grotesquely inflated bodies resembled protrusions more than limbs. At a glance, they looked like awkward performers in cartoon costumes for children’s TV programs.

But up close, the illusion shattered.

Their bodies, bloated to the brink of bursting, induced nausea. Their faces, bluish-green and decayed, radiated unmistakable terror. Just a glance at them made one feel as though their own flesh might rot away.

And their arms—despite appearing small and frail, they displayed an eerie resilience. They methodically worked to tear barnacles off the hull and create ladders, showcasing an alarming relentlessness. Even as flesh melted and peeled away, they persisted, scraping themselves against the ship’s surface in their effort to climb higher.

“No defenses.”

Jinseong’s laughter broke out now, far brighter than before, brimming with delight.

“This ship’s too old; any prior defensive measures would have decayed along with it. Likely, new ones were too expensive to bother with. They’ve probably only held ceremonies to avoid accidents or damage to the ship.”

Had this been a better-maintained vessel, the situation would have been different.

The moment the spirits touched the hull, they would have burst into flames, been repelled, or simply collapsed into the sea. Or stronger magical effects could have prevented their approach altogether, even making the ship itself invisible to them.

In that case, Jinseong would have had to get involved directly, using his magic to clear away the defenses so the spirits could infiltrate.

Though this wasn’t a particularly difficult task.

Still, given the cost of using sorcery…

It was certainly a gain for Jinseong that these defenses were absent.

“If other rituals and spells had piled up, it might have delayed my recovery.”

Jinseong glanced down at his arm, smiling faintly.

It was riddled with wounds, as though an eager cannibal had been slicing off pieces of him little by little.

The cuts were so deep that bone was visible in some places.

“The ritual’s cost has been paid in full.”

This was the price he paid to control the spirits. The gradual rotting away of his flesh was the cost of the ritual he’d conducted earlier.

Though he had to manually sever the infected areas to avoid sepsis—it wasn’t a light cost, but neither was it catastrophic. His internal organs weren’t rotting, his entire body wasn’t decaying, and he hadn’t contracted leprosy or suffered bone deterioration—these absences were merciful signs.

Moreover, he gained the added bonus of using the decayed flesh for other spells.

“The spirits are slowly reaching the deck. It’s time for me to move.”

Jinseong, waving his worn-out arm, began to move, riding the spirits that floated on the water like makeshift rafts.