The fiefdom increases by 1 soldier in 1 second, and the empress kneels down and begs not to rebel

"Everyone, move! Move!"

"Hurry up and fold the sails!"

In the vast ocean, on the deck of a sailing ship, a man with a haggard face and sunken eye sockets was roaring at the top of his lungs. Even though this was a sound he made with all his strength, it sounded as faint as the groan of an insect in the strong wind blowing from the sea.

At this moment in the vast ocean, endless black clouds covered the entire sky. It was clearly noon, but these dark and thick clouds completely swallowed the sun.

Lightning flashed from time to time in the dark clouds, and with the appearance of these lightning, suppressed and dull thunder was playing.

The sound of wind played in harmony with the thunder. The fierce gale rolled up huge waves. The sea surface seemed to be lifted up. The waves several feet high rolled higher and higher. The sea water no longer appeared blue, but became black and thick, like a black hole that could swallow everything.

The combination of dark clouds, strong winds and muffled thunder indicates that a thunderstorm is about to hit this sea area, and the ships sailing on the sea will face a cruel test.

Captain Coster protected his hat with one hand and continued to shout at the sailors on the ship:

"Damn it! You idiots!"

"You want us all to die here! Hurry up and fold the sails!"

At his urging, more than thirty skinny sailors with sunken cheeks finally moved. They pulled the ropes with difficulty and tried their best to reef the sails. However, the strong wind was still blowing strongly, causing their thin bodies to sway in the wind.

Seeing this, Coaster rushed forward and pulled the rope to reef the sails with the sailors. His hat was blown away by the strong wind at this moment, but Coaster could no longer care about much.

The most important thing right now is to fold the sails. If the sails are not folded in time, the ship will definitely be lost in the sea.

Finally, with everyone's unremitting efforts, all the sails were furled, but this did not mean that the danger was over. After furling the sails, Coaster urgently asked the sailors to return to the cabin immediately, because the next storm could no longer be resisted by manpower. All they could do was to stay in the cabin and leave it to fate.

Before going down the deck with difficulty in the strong wind, Coaster took a last look at the other ships traveling with him. Then his eyes dimmed, and he bit his lip and went down the cabin in pain.

There were thirteen other ships travelling with them, but only seven had their sails fully furled, four had not yet done so, and the last two had not furled their sails at all.

Coaster understood that the people on the two ships had collapsed in despair. They had lost all their courage, and even their will to survive had been completely exhausted in the long return voyage.

There are quite a few such people in the fleet, and there are even some on his own ship.

What made these people collapse and despair was not the coming storm, but the last straw that broke the camel's back.

The root of everything came from the naval battle that took place more than two months ago. That battle became almost everyone’s nightmare.

On the way back, Coaster was always awakened from his sleep. In his dreams, there was endless sound of artillery fire and human heads and corpses floating in the blood-red sea.

Whenever he recalled this scene, Coster trembled all over. This was also his nightmare. At the beginning of the voyage, Coster never thought that he would encounter such a terrible thing.

The fleet that once had nearly 500 ships has now been reduced to only 14 after that naval battle, and all the people on these 14 ships combined are less than 500, and even half of them are on the verge of death. They have become zombies, as if they had left their souls in that battle.

After this storm, Coaster didn't know how many ships would survive. He could only pray that his ship could withstand the thunderstorm. After all, it was not far from the homeland.

He didn't think any more and immediately went to the cabin after getting off the deck.

There was only a dim oil lamp lit in the dark cabin. Dark brown pieces of meat were scattered in the overturned bowl on the table. Turbid soup was spilled everywhere. A faint stench filled the air. On the messy and dirty mattress lay a skinny man, and there was his vomit on the deck.

As soon as Coster entered the cabin, he couldn't help but frowned, but he still said respectfully to the man lying on the bed:

"Marshal, we are experiencing a storm."

The man on the bed ignored him and didn't even move. If it weren't for his cloudy eyes that were wide open, he would be no different from a corpse.

Although the man said nothing, Coster continued to report:

"Marshal, this storm will probably last for a while. The wind and waves are getting stronger and stronger. Our ship will become more and more bumpy. For safety reasons, I think you should secure yourself."

The man remained indifferent. Coster sighed slightly, took the rope from the wall, and planned to tie the man's body to the bedpost. Although this could not guarantee complete safety, it could at least prevent him from bumping around in the bumps.

"Where's Wilson?"

Just as Coster walked to the bed, the man suddenly spoke. His voice was so hoarse, like a saw sawing wood.

Coster's face froze, his eyes swept across the puddle of vomit, and he said in a low voice: "The chief of staff was very ill. He died last night."

After he finished speaking, the man was silent for a few breaths, and then he said, "Put his body in a safe place. If you can return to the country, bring it to his family."

Coster lowered his eyes, shook his head and said, "You know, Marshal."

"The bodies of the sick cannot be left on board and we are out of medicine."

"We buried the chief of staff at sea last night."

As he spoke, Coster had already come to the bedside and stretched out his hand to help the man up, but the man waved his hand and pushed it away.

"marshal?"

The man slowly sat up with his hands on the bed. The beard on his face was thick and messy, all tangled together, and his deep eye sockets were full of bloodshot. No one could believe that this was Clemento, the first minister of the navy of the Sari Kingdom and the commander of the Fiery Sun Fleet.

After that cruel and bloody night, Clemento seemed to have become a different person. He had lost all his courage, fighting spirit, and responsibility as a commander. He became afraid of fire and loud noises, and even vomited at the sight of blood. He hid in the cabin all day and didn't dare to talk to his subordinates. He completely shut himself off and almost became a walking corpse.

But now, before the thunderstorm was about to fall, Clemento stood up, pushed Coaster away, and walked out of the cabin tremblingly.