Chapter Seventeen: The Terrifying Cruise Ship

More than a month had passed since the Supreme Sorcerers had last left any traces. In that time, Yang Qiu’s mood had shifted from worry to anxiety, then to a strange uncertainty, and now, finally, to indifference. At first, Yang Qiu had assumed that after Deacon was taken by the Supreme Sorcerers, the next targets would surely be Van Helsing or Parker. Yet, after so long, nothing unusual had happened around either of them.

Van Helsing wandered through the mountains with Blade, teaching him how to harness the magic within his body and helping him find suitable animal companions. Parker, meanwhile, continued to pursue traitors listed in his ledger, most of whom were Hydra agents embedded within S.H.I.E.L.D.—betrayers not only of mainstream human society but also of their own organization, making them easy targets.

To be honest, considering the situation from his own perspective, Yang Qiu reasoned that if he wished to deal with someone possessing special abilities, and couldn’t locate them precisely enough for a decisive strike, he would start by cutting off their allies. He hardly believed that the connection between Parker and Van Helsing was something the Ancient One could not discover; after all, she had subdued the entire mystical world of Earth and could face the might of Asgard alone—a supreme sorcerer indeed.

Thus, without deceiving himself, Yang Qiu concluded that the Ancient One had, for the moment, chosen neither to intervene nor to communicate with him, as if leaving him to his own devices. He didn’t know why but had to accept reality as it was.

Yet Yang Qiu also knew he couldn’t place all his hope in the hands of others; he needed to become stronger himself. His first step was to find a way to interfere with the Time Stone’s power. If he could accomplish that, at the very least, he could hide more effectively. To combat time, Yang Qiu thought to harness its power in turn. For this script, he decided to minimize the creation of new objects and characters, concentrating the script’s transformative force to achieve his goal: manifesting in this world an item capable of resisting, within limits, the Eye of Agamotto.

But reducing his own creations meant his ability to influence the script would also lessen. Characters included in the script could simply escape. Therefore, this time, the story would unfold in a place utterly inescapable, where there was neither refuge above nor below. Conveniently, such a place was right at hand—a cruise ship currently docked at the New York harbor. Soon, it would depart, becoming an isolated island adrift at sea, impossible to flee.

Prologue: Setting Sail

At dusk, the cruise ship slowly left port, and the prologue of Yang Qiu’s script unfurled. This prologue contained no special information.

The basic plot was the ship’s normal voyage and a banquet organized onboard. The true story would begin later. Yang Qiu had already chosen the protagonist: Natasha Romanoff, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s senior agent, the Black Widow. Her abilities were sufficient to handle this script and would help ensure its smooth progression.

His final preparation involved several blue sac-fish summoned from the deep sea. Under Yang Qiu’s control, they followed beneath the cruise ship, serving a single purpose: to prevent the Black Widow from escaping by jumping overboard. Being enhanced, she might genuinely attempt to survive alone at sea.

At eight o’clock, script five, chapter one—The Turning Clock—began; so too did the grand banquet aboard the cruise ship.

“Ms. Scarlett Johansson, welcome to my vessel. How do you find the service? Is it satisfactory?” A man called out to Natasha at the ship’s railing, addressing her by her current alias.

“Hm, it’s passable, I suppose. But there are all sorts of people here—no screening at all. It’s far too chaotic,” Natasha replied, her performance flawless. This time, she played the part of a young lady from a prominent family, and the man before her sought favors from her household—though not for anything honorable.

“Yes, yes, forgive any shortcomings in our hospitality. If you have any requests, please let us know. We won’t refuse anything within our power,” the man said with a servile smile.

“No requests. And stop bothering me,” Natasha replied with an air of pride, then strode toward the banquet with her wine glass.

The banquet proceeded smoothly, and Natasha’s investigation even more so. She spotted several covert representatives of weapons manufacturers—figures who believed themselves well hidden but had long been on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s radar for attempting to broker restricted arms deals.

But she hadn’t come to apprehend those individuals tonight. Her mission was to identify who was attempting to traffic enriched uranium and to determine the buyer’s identity. The ostensible host of the banquet was likely a decoy; the true buyer was almost certainly among the guests.

Late at night, at four in the morning, Natasha woke suddenly, her heart pounding as if something ominous had occurred.

She paced her room twice, ultimately deciding not to venture into the corridor, aware of the high-definition surveillance outside.

Her current identity should not be seen alone in the corridor at this hour—such a move would likely alert her targets.

Around noon, the buffet opened. Natasha, hands clasped behind her back and feigning curiosity, wandered the dining hall.

In plain sight, the venue for negotiations was often not hidden, but rather amidst the crowd, where coded language could be exchanged.

Ding~ The clock sounded. It was exactly twelve noon.

Natasha paused, feeling once more the sensation she’d had at dawn—now clearer, as if something within her was being drawn out by an invisible force.

No! She needed to contact her superiors. There was definitely something wrong with this ship!

Natasha trusted her intuition; it had saved her more than once. Still, she continued to play her part, with many appointments yet to keep—any of which might lead her to her target.

At seven in the evening, Natasha finally managed to slip away from the constant scrutiny. The identity S.H.I.E.L.D. had given her this time was inconvenient in the extreme—even going to the restroom meant a maid followed her everywhere. This was no heiress; it was practically a disabled person!

Back in her cabin, Natasha immediately tried to contact Nick Fury, but her calls went unanswered. The situation was not like being jammed; every technical aspect was normal, yet there was simply no response after she dialed out.