Medical Genius Unspeakable Marriage (Matthew Larson) novel Chapter 3594

The Medusa Warship cruised forward, randomly choosing a direction as it sliced through the waves.

After about an hour, they reached the edge of the fog barrier Weston had spoken of.

Matthew and Ryan stepped out of the cabin, their eyes fixed on the dense mist ahead.

Thick layers of fog blanketed the horizon. Neither Matthew nor Ryan could see anything beyond the veil.

Ryan leaned toward Matthew and whispered, "Matteo, do you really have a plan? Because this place is giving me the creeps."

Matthew gave a small flick of his fingers. In an instant, nine silver needles shot out, darting straight into the fog.

His expression shifted slightly as his fingers moved again. The needles zipped back out just as quickly as they'd gone in.

Matthew glanced at Ryan and gave him a reassuring look.

"I've got a pretty good idea of what's causing the fog. Leaving here shouldn't be too difficult."

Ryan stared at him expectantly, thinking he'd elaborate. But after a long pause, he realized Matthew had already reclined in his chair, relaxed and silent.

"Matteo, you can't just stop there! Come on, what's going on with this fog? Why can't anyone leave?"

Ryan gave him a nudge, impatient and clearly on edge.

"Even if I explained it, you wouldn't understand. Better not to overthink it," Matthew replied with a sidelong glance.

He didn't answer directly but offered a brief explanation for his silence and their next destination.

"Set a course 35 degrees north. Let's go check out that island."

He spoke casually, but his mind was racing.

The phenomena they'd seen—and the strange feeling he'd had since arriving—pointed toward one conclusion: a geomantic disturbance.

The outside world's geography—its mountains, rivers, and underground channels—was typically orderly and predictable.

To the north of this sea region lay a single island, roughly 60 square miles in size. It was the only landmass in this entire area.

The surface of the island had been divided into plots of farmland, all clearly cultivated.

Meanwhile, the ancient warship slowly pulled into a bay.

Weston stood at the bow, his expression stern as he disembarked with a group of crew members.

The people working the fields glanced up at the group, then immediately returned to their labor, moving faster than before. Not one dared to pause.

They knew what would happen if they were caught slacking—even a little.

No food. Maybe worse—a beating.

Weston scanned the bent backs and busy hands in the fields.

Then he turned to his men and barked, "Round everyone up."