Chapter 85: Tentacles Everywhere
Night fell, and the howling sea wind over the North Sea grew increasingly fierce, with wind speeds quickly climbing to a force 7, 32 knots. Layer upon layer of huge waves surged, their height already approaching 3 meters.
According to common sense, in the face of this obvious storm prelude, all sailing vessels on the sea, whether majestic first-rate ships or inconspicuous small dinghies, should have long sought shelter in a harbor to avoid the storm. Anyone daring to continue sailing on the high seas, even with all sails furled, would suffer the tragic fate of broken masts.
Capsizing and sinking would be their only outcome!
Strangely, this completely unreasonable event was happening in the Iron Anchor Bay area, which was perpetually shrouded in thick fog. A fleet, resembling a crab crawling sideways, sailed against the wind on the sea surface formed by countless "mounds."