[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies":3,"chapter-notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-82":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Notes on Kraft Anomalous Studies",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2283560,4467,"Chapter 82: Ice Mountain","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-82",82,"\u003Cp>“Wake up all the boys—we need to jettison the cargo.” Because they were closer, Siman heard Becker’s order to the newly arrived boatswain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The boatswain, still stunned by the sudden fog, thought he was still dreaming when he heard the captain’s words: “We have plenty of supplies; there’s no need to…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Rouse everyone, jettison the cargo, and wake up the first mate. I know he just fell asleep—tell him if he doesn’t want to sleep in the sea, he’d better get up.” His hands trembled slightly from the cold as he gripped the helm; Becker repeated the order, and an inexplicable urgency spread from him to every man on deck.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Siman, go aft and keep watch—don’t let them crowd together.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The wind speed was obvious even to seasoned sailors; the captain would feel it even more acutely. Years of seafaring gave him a certainty no one else possessed: their current speed was far too slow—not nearly enough compared to the speed of whatever was approaching.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jettisoning the cargo was the decision they’d made. They needed to go faster—even if it meant sacrificing months of effort and vast amounts of supplies, they might have to sacrifice even more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It didn’t matter what it was. When something loomed closer, its surface higher than the mast, what it was no longer mattered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The boatswain, trained to obey the captain without question, moved at once. Sleepy sailors were roused, then given orders they couldn’t comprehend—herded belowdecks to drag out cargo that had only just been stowed two days prior.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The first mate climbed onto the deck, clutching his knee, limping over to the captain. “What’s going on? This cargo’s worth a fortune—we’d need at least two more trips to make it back!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Better go help than talk. Start by dumping the ore.” Becker removed his still-warm fur-lined cap, exposing his salt-and-pepper hair to the cold—a sight matched only by the experience and authority that could silence any man aboard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chests of ore were tipped overboard; chunks of rock laced with metal and crystal plunged into the waves, spraying endless splashes, the thuds of impact continuous—no different from tossing silver coins into water. Siman watched, his heart aching.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the first chest vanished into the sea, the first mate released his knee and clutched his chest instead—the pure loss made brutally visible. Belowdecks, the dragging and lifting of heavy loads never ceased; the sailors didn’t care about this money, they only wanted to flee.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What if we dump only half…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before the words finished, a massive, muffled splash echoed. The first mate scanned the deck, searching for some idiot who’d dropped a crate overboard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone froze. Crewmen exchanged glances; the two sailors who’d just emptied a chest stood holding empty crates, also searching for who had thrown something large directly into the sea.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then they realized—the sound hadn’t come from the ship’s side. It came from farther away, echoing through the cold fog, the spray taking two breaths to return to the ocean.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a moment, he felt as if he’d been pulled back to the barren ice plains—the edge of dark mountains, the towering cliff overlooking the frozen sea. Ice, aged for years, had cracked open black rock; both plunged into the churning, ice-choked surf, shattering the surface.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Anyone who’d seen it once could never forget: when shattered ice and spray rose to their peak, the roar of water came crashing down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The people of the ice plains told them that ships passing too close had been overturned, sucked into whirlpools formed as seawater rushed back into hollows, swallowed whole by the frozen sea before they could even cry for help.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since witnessing it, Becker had always deliberately kept his ship far from those ice-laden cliffs along the shore.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They’d been sailing for over two full days; those cliffs and falling ice had vanished beyond the horizon. But the sound was undeniable—the towering, steep thing was out there in the fog, shedding glaciers from its body.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The first to react was still Becker. He roared at the crew, nearly cowering in fear: “Don’t stand there—jettison everything!” Even his own hands gripping the helm had gone stiff and unresponsive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ship moved faster than ever before. Sailors rushed in and out of the hold, hauling every crate of ore to the deck and dumping it into the sea. Everything nonessential was thrown overboard—anything to lighten the vessel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A second thunderous splash echoed, then a third, then a fourth—as if some colossal entity were stirring, awakening, shedding centuries-old glaciers from its body.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Several terrified sailors muttered prayers no one understood, even attempting to launch the lifeboat. The first mate drew his blade, shoving them back with his back pressed against the rail: “This is the Ice Sea—without this ship, none of you survive!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked at Becker; the captain nodded in approval.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The hold was now empty of ore. The sailors threw overboard the empty crates, tore off precious furs, and hurled them all into the sea, ignoring how minuscule the speed gain might be.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Had Becker not stopped them, they might have thrown a few men screaming and sobbing overboard too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Siman kept his eyes fixed on the fog behind the stern. He clearly heard the echoing splashes coming from the side and rear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And now, closer still—the sound of waves crashing against something hard. The crests shattered into spray. Vast, cold, unyielding—possessing every trait of those snow-covered peaks, which should have stood alone on the wasteland, among their kin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ship had reached its maximum speed. Crewmen argued over abandoning fresh water and rations; some shouted their demands, others begged the captain for a lifeboat so they could die on their own, while most wept and prayed, regretting why they’d ever sailed to this place beyond the gods’ gaze for the sake of coin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their voices blurred and faded in Siman’s ears. He heard the sound of fragments hitting the water—like the ore being dumped, but higher-pitched, as if stones rolled down a steep slope, clinking like pottery.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the ore was already gone. Even the crates had been thrown overboard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He realized this was an omen of arrival. Terrified, he stared at the churning, thick white fog, his feet rooted to the deck. His only thought: warn them in time—somehow, if he warned them, they might still escape.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone arguing on the foredeck heard the scream from the stern—distorted by terror into something inhuman. As if years of suppressed dread for the northern seas and mountains had been violently expelled from the chest, draining the lungs, tearing open the throat to burst forth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That scream awakened in the outsiders the primal fear they’d felt upon first arriving here—the awe before endless icy waters and rolling mountains, realizing their decade of safe sailing had merely been a minor oversight by that thing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A few still brave—or blindly obedient—turned. They saw the last light in the fog dimming; a cold, majestic shadow moved through the white chaos. Large chunks of ice broke free from its surface; the ship was nearly capsized by the towering waves, hurling the tiny crewmen up and slamming them down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No mind or body could endure the unnatural storm long enough to keep watching. They clung to whatever was nearest, burying their heads, praying until they collapsed from exhaustion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And then? What happened next?” Kraft sipped the sweet fruit wine the captain had given him. It tasted vaguely like the carbonated drinks the souls from another world loved—though the bubbles were fewer. Perfect with the story and the candlelight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They returned to Wenden Port and sold the ship and trading rights. Becker handed the proceeds to his son to manage, then set off for his rural hometown inland.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The other crewmen spent their days drunk in taverns, frequenting places that spread unspeakable diseases, or shuttling between drinking tables and gambling tables—most were bled dry of their last copper before they forgot the voyage.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps finding this ending too bleak, the captain opened a new bottle of pungent liquor. After Kraft politely declined, he filled his own cup, drank deeply, and added:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Gh… Some sold the story to curious buyers a few times, kept a little money to live on, and mostly headed inland.” Outside, night had fallen; heavy rain pattered against the deck. The wind was light, perfectly setting the mood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The story had ended, but the listeners remained captivated. Kup, who’d spent the day nauseated, entered and caught the tail end. Whether from weakness or fear, he shivered. His eyes begged for more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kraft voiced the question for him: “That’s it? How did they escape?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s all. They came back alive—some were as good as dead, and none of them lived well.” The captain shook his head, sighing. As fellow men of the sea, they shared the same dread—who could say tomorrow wouldn’t be their turn?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So the story truly ended. No brave captain or clever sailor outwitted the monster.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was just a group of men driven mad by a fog-bound thing they never even saw—the event ended abruptly, they returned to port, and spent their miserable lives afterward, the misfortune echoing even after they’d left.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Such a distinct tone reminded Kraft of another tale he’d heard about the northern ice plains. He’d been at the academy so long, yet never found the chance to ask a Shenxue Academy student whether his cousin’s story was true.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Inspired, he revived the idea of compiling a collection of stories—perhaps he could dedicate a whole volume to the mysterious, savage lands north of Wenden Port.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If you allow it, I’d like to write this story into my book. Where did you hear it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ah… it’s a long tale.” At the mention of it, the captain downed another gulp of wine. The sharp liquor burned down his throat like poison, making him cough until tears streamed down his face. He’d unknowingly drunk himself drunk, his manners slipping.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Guess who bought the trading rights—the second-generation captain?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Er… may I ask how I should address you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“William. Big Beard William.”\u003C\u002Fp>",1677,"2026-06-20T02:15:55.761Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","ff0de4c3bf17e9d8ad577c6f969747109e1c445cde8e891eed342337de9cd298","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-83","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-81",406,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fnotes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-cover.jpg"]