Grand Voyage: I Start My Journey With A Ghost Ship!

“Stop!”
A burst of urgent neural signals surged into Yang Yi’s brain.
“Do you even understand what summoning a god means?
It’s not as simple as dying...
A mortal who faces a god unprepared will fall into endless madness—
their very form unable to hold together!”
The brain-devourer’s warning echoed sharply.
The two communicated through direct neural transmission—what sounded like a long speech was, in fact, just a single pulse of information, instantly received and understood.
But to the brain-devourer’s horror…
Yang Yi ignored the warning.
Instead, his resolve to perform the Spider Mother’s Divine Invocation grew even firmer.
It wasn’t a bluff.
Neural exchange came from the deepest layers of consciousness—
thoughts themselves became communication.
Deception was nearly impossible.
He truly meant to do it.
The brain-devourer was terrified beyond reason—
and instantly regretted ever choosing to invade this madman’s body.
She began to shriek and curse, flooding him with disruptive signals to break his concentration.
“You lunatic—cultist—deranged maniac! You dare call me a monster?!
You’re worse than a monster!
Even monsters wouldn’t summon a god!”
A torrent of chaotic neural noise—rage, confusion, terror, despair—
all slammed into Yang Yi’s head at once, making it throb painfully,
as though ten people were shouting inside his skull.
He couldn’t take it anymore.
“Shut up!” Yang Yi cut off the signal abruptly.
“I’m perfectly calm right now!
This is the only way to destroy you—
you red-eyed freak!”
“Red-eyed…? How do you know my eyes are red? Did I tell you that?”
Yang Yi replied without hesitation,
“Do I even need to be told?”
But his thoughts were transmitted along with his words—
whether he wanted to or not.
Instantly, the brain-devourer saw an image—
the same one that had haunted Yang Yi’s nightmares.
“You dreamed of this scene?” she asked, startled.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’ve met other red-eyed people?”
“No!”
“A woman named Suna…? Where is she now?”
“The hell with you!”
Yang Yi’s fury erupted.
He realized there was no hiding anything—
every secret thought was laid bare, every memory exposed.
It was like being stripped naked in public, completely humiliated.
But he soon found a countermeasure:
stop thinking.
Stop interpreting her signals entirely.
“Tell me—where is she now?”
Silence.
“What is your relationship?”
Silence again.
Yang Yi stayed unmoved,
focusing on preparing the Spider Mother’s Invocation to destroy her completely.
That intent, too, was instantly detected.
“Wait! Let’s talk!
I’m not hostile right now—you can feel that, can’t you?”
Indeed, Yang Yi sensed no hostility—
only agitation, anticipation, even relief.
Such emotions were hard to fake—
unless one could deceive even their own mind.
And her next action proved she spoke truthfully:
the tentacles within Yang Yi’s body began to retreat.
Moments later, he regained full control of himself.
“What the hell are you playing at?”
Yang Yi was baffled but stayed wary,
reaching for a weapon from his stomach pouch—

—but she already knew.
Two tentacles lashed out, binding his arms immovably.
“Stop your aggression!
I said I only want to talk!”
“I can’t see!”
“Then I’ll share my vision with you.”
A peculiar signal entered his mind—
a world of glowing outlines without color,
as though radar waves had traced the environment into shapes.
The tentacles loosened their grip.
Yang Yi stood, cautiously.
“What are you—”
“Let’s sit ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) somewhere first. My face hurts; I don’t feel like talking yet.”
Frowning, Yang Yi walked toward the ruins—
two heads sharing one body like some grotesque twin-headed beast—
and sat on a fallen plank.
On her side, the brain-devourer began to chant.
Yang Yi couldn’t understand the complex incantation,
but he felt a gentle warmth spread over her face—
her wounds mending rapidly.
“That’s better,” she said,
turning her gaze toward him.
To Yang Yi, it felt like watching himself—
their shared vision making everything unnervingly intimate.
He quickly put on his blindfold and said,
“Fine. Talk. What do you want?”
Thus began their formal “two-headed conversation.”
Her tone became unexpectedly refined.
“Good evening, Mr. Yang Yi.
You may call me Lady Roniette.
As you’ve likely guessed,
I am a witch—
one blessed with both beauty and intellect.”
She began recounting her story.
Long ago, she was an ordinary yet exceptionally intelligent and beautiful witch.
She kept a low profile, conducting private research in secret.
But her peace didn’t last.
She was discovered by the Holy Church’s Knights, branded a heretic,
and captured for trial in the Holy Capital—
to be “purified by the Light.”
“Someone betrayed me—it must’ve been Peter!
He begged me on his knees to cure his blindness,
just so he could see his new bride.
I agreed.
I removed his diseased eyes and replaced them with a healthy cyclops’ eye.
The surgery went perfectly.
He even thanked me when he left!
But less than half a month later,
the Holy Knights came for me!
Luckily, I had prepared.
I transformed myself into a brain-devourer—
so even a severed head could move and survive.
Otherwise, the moment I left the Holy Casket, I’d have died instantly!”
“Holy Casket?” Yang Yi asked.
“Yes.
The Holy Casket is the Church’s sacred container—
used to imprison the heads of heretics.
Each one bears an inscription, a holy sigil, and an identifying number.
When the Church captures a heretic,
they perform a divine spell called Sanctus Severance.
It slices off the victim’s head—
but the magic keeps them alive for a time.
Then they seal the still-living head in the Holy Casket
and send it to the Holy Capital.
As long as the sinner remains inside,
they never truly die.
Cruel beyond words, isn’t it?”
Roniette spoke bitterly of the Church’s cruelty.
But Yang Yi was unmoved.
In his eyes, witches weren’t much better—
the two sides were equally monstrous.
She caught that thought immediately.
“You misunderstand witches deeply!
We are not monsters.
We are scholars!”
She revealed many hidden truths.
“The world calls us taboo—
accuses us of defiling the dead, of toying with life.
But those are mere prejudices!
In truth, we are the world’s guardians—
humanity’s only hope!
Our so-called heresies, our forbidden experiments—
they are but the growing pains of discovering truth!
We seek knowledge, the order of all things!
One day, we will rekindle the Light of Truth—
and drive every hidden darkness back into the shadows!
Because the Light of Truth exists,
and will always exist!”
Her face grew fervent—
not with faith in gods, but in Truth itself.
Her empty eye sockets flared with invisible pain,
as if burned where eyes once were.
“What are you getting at?” Yang Yi asked.
“You didn’t just free me to have a chat, did you?”
“No,” she said softly.
“I had planned to infiltrate the Holy Church
to rescue another witch or warlock imprisoned there.
But now… that seems unnecessary.”
Her empty gaze turned toward Yang Yi.
“Before me stands a witch who can inherit everything I have.”
She reached a tentacle into her mouth,
rummaged around,
and pulled out a red gem slick with purple slime,
offering it to him.
“This is the Stone of Truth.
It contains generations of our accumulated knowledge.
I was clever—but not enough.
I could only inherit a fraction.
Someone with greater talent may perceive the true reality of the world.
I’m finished. I’ll die soon.
But the inheritance of Truth must not end.”
Yang Yi picked up the stone.
Information surfaced before his eyes:
Name: Stone of Truth
Type: Relic
Quality: ???
Description:
Swallowing this stone grants immense forbidden knowledge.
Those unable to withstand it will suffer brain death.
Not recommended for non-warlocks.
Turning this over to the Holy Church will earn you supreme honor.
After reading, Yang Yi understood—
she wanted him to give the stone to Suna.
“And why do you think I’ll do as you say?”
“Because you will.”
Her answer was firm.
Yang Yi remained unconvinced.
“What’s your view on aberrations?” she suddenly asked.
“The only good aberration,” Yang Yi said coldly,
“is a dead one.”
“Excellent. Remember those words.”
She smiled, satisfied.
From some dusty corner, she fished out a bottle,
snapped off the cap with a tentacle,
and poured two small glasses.
“Come, share a drink with me.”
“I don’t drink,” Yang Yi refused.
Before crossing into this world, he had been frail,
and had never touched alcohol.
“Make an exception—just this once.”
She pressed the glass to his lips with firm insistence.
“After this drink,” she said quietly,
“I want you to keep your promise—
and kill me.”