The Poseidon lived up to its name.
A hundred-thousand-ton steel leviathan—
Gliding smoothly across the endless blue.
Sunlight shattered across:
Snow-white decksTowering glass walls
The reflections—
Blinding.
The air itself carried layers of indulgence:
Salted ocean windSweet champagneHeavy cigars
And beneath it all—
The unmistakable scent of money.
Silas Moore's suite sat on the upper deck.
Private balcony.
Living room.
Full ocean view.
Crystal chandeliers.
Velvet carpets.
Floor-to-ceiling glass—
An empire of luxury.
Next door—
Had been converted into:
"Exhibit Preparation Room."
Ironfang and the others stayed there—
Alongside Chen Lin's team.
Silas stood in the center of the living room.
Looked up at the chandelier.
Looked down at the carpet.
His expression:
Disdain.
Too bright.
Too flashy.
Too useless.
He walked to the balcony.
Placed his front paws on the railing.
The sea wind swept through his gray-white fur.
His blue eyes—
Locked onto the horizon.
Calm.
Cold.
Like a king—
Surveying newly conquered territory.
…If you ignored the ridiculous vest on him.
Lin Wan had already changed into casual wear.
She moved through the room—
Checking everything.
Hidden cameras → active.Audio devices → stable.
All linked—
To the custom watch on her wrist.
Next door—
Old Wu was busy.
Adjusting devices disguised as:
Dog toys.
Chen Lin's voice came through the encrypted channel:
"Day one is observation."
"Tonight—captain's reception."
"All guests will attend."
Pause.
"Lin Wan, you'll go in."
"As assistant."
"And chief handler."
Then—
"Silas."
"Stay professional."
"Use your senses."
"Everything you hear—everything you smell—matters."
Silas's ears twitched.
Acknowledged.
He glanced down at his vest.
Then at the crowd outside—
Elegant.
Laughing.
Pretending.
A flicker of annoyance crossed his eyes.
Socializing.
Fake smiles.
Empty conversations.
He hated it.
As a human—
He already hated it.
Now?
He had to do it—
As a dog.
Double suffering.
Evening – The Reception
The central atrium.
Three stories high.
A glass dome ceiling—
Painted like a starry sky.
Crystal lights cascading down—
Like frozen galaxies.
Guests filled the space.
Luxury.
Soft laughter.
Whispers of power.
Waiters moved like shadows—
Silver trays in hand.
One side—
Glass displays.
Jewelry.
Artifacts.
Modern art.
And then—
A section.
Cordoned off.
Velvet ropes.
Inside—
Something different.
"Prehistoric genetic artifacts."
Strange sculptures.
Amber fragments.
Fossil shards embedded in metal.
Paintings—
Twisted.
Distorted.
Creatures that shouldn't exist.
Standing nearby—
Men in white coats.
But not ordinary.
Their presence—
Cold.
Sharp.
Pandora Life Sciences.
Lin Wan entered the atrium.
Dressed in a tailored ivory suit.
Clean.
Professional.
Controlled.
Beside her—
Silas Moore.
Leash attached.
Vest fitted.
Sensor lights blinking faintly—
Disguised as decoration.
He walked steadily.
Measured.
Controlled.
Heads turned.
Eyes followed.
"Is that a Husky?""Look at that posture…""Working dog?""From some research foundation…"
Silas ignored them all.
Not a glance wasted.
But—
When he passed the "prehistoric exhibit"—
He slowed.
Barely.
His nose moved.
Subtle.
Almost invisible.
Then—
His eyes sharpened.
He smelled it.
Faint.
Extremely faint.
But unmistakable.
Chemical traces.
Similar to—
The Disguise Agent.
And beneath that—
Another scent.
Hidden under layers of perfume.
Familiar.
Cold.
Sharp.
Levi Wynn.
Silas's gaze darkened.
He's here.
Or his people are.
Lin Wan noticed too.
Without turning her head—
She adjusted her stance.
Watching.
The Pandora group—
Didn't talk much.
Eyes alert.
Occasionally glancing at the entrance.
Waiting.
For someone.
Then—
A scent of perfume.
Overpowering.
A woman approached.
Pink sequined dress.
Too bright.
Too loud.
In her arms—
A tiny white poodle.
Fluffy.
Perfectly groomed.
Diamond collar.
The woman smiled—
Wide.
Artificial.
"Oh my dear!"
She looked at Silas—
Eyes lighting up.
"What a fascinating dog!"
"Is it an Alaskan?"
"Or a Husky?"
"So serious—like a guard!"
The poodle in her arms—
Blinking round eyes.
Let out a soft:
"Yip."
Silas glanced at it.
Then at the woman.
His expression:
Flat.
Translation:
Stay away.
Lin Wan smiled politely.
"Siberian Husky."
"He's a working dog."
"Working dog? On this ship?"
The woman gasped dramatically.
"How amusing!"
She lifted her poodle slightly.
"My Sweetie is a champion."
"Purebred."
"So many awards!"
She tilted her chin.
Pride barely hidden.
"She only eats imported venison puree."
"And mineral water."
Then—
A subtle glance at Silas.
"Your dog must have such a… difficult life."
Silas didn't move.
Didn't react.
Didn't even blink.
But—
His eyes shifted.
Slowly.
From the woman—
To the poodle.
Then back.
Cold.
Sharp.
Measured.
Like a king—
Looking at something—
Utterly insignificant.
And in that moment—
Even the poodle—
Stopped wagging its tail.