"Click." The sound of the camera shutter echoed. Linda lifted the black cloth covering herself and the camera, handing the developed photo to Charles, who was waiting nearby.

  The unprocessed image was a blank, white expanse, nothing particularly interesting to look at.

  Charles flipped the photo over and, using a ruler and pen, began drawing a precise nautical map on the back, using Coral Island as the anchor point.

  On the table beside him, a small stack of photos already lay, each with an identical nautical map drawn on the back.

  As long as the Church of Light could obtain even one of these photos, they would be able to locate this sunlit island of hope.

  This task could have been delegated to others, but Charles trusted his own hands more than anyone else’s.

  "Captain, we’re almost out of film," Linda said calmly.

  "Wait." Charles took out a pair of sunglasses, removed the lenses, and crossed them over the camera lens.

  "Point it at the crack above and use up the remaining film."

  Charles refused to believe that, faced with such undeniable evidence, the followers of the Church of Light could still feign ignorance.

  This was the solution Charles had come up with: using concrete evidence to show the Church of Light followers that the Land of Light they so desperately sought was right here. If they wanted to meet their great God of Light, they needed to hurry.

  If there was any organization in the sea more eager than Charles to find the Land of Light, it had to be the Church of Light, which worshipped the sun as their deity.

  The Church of Light’s influence in the sea was staggering. Once they arrived here, not only would they bring aircraft, but if it meant returning to the Land of Light, they would even mobilize the entire sea to build a tower reaching the heavens. That would be far faster than Charles working alone.

  Moreover, once the Church of Light followers arrived, the threat of the pirates of Sodom would naturally dissipate. In a head-to-head battle, pirates were no match for fanatics. Besides, the Church of Light had far more followers than the pirates of Sodom.

  After quickly finishing the nautical map on the photo, Charles carefully stacked the photos and handed them to the waiting, grim-faced captain.

  "Monchi, take these. I don’t know what method you’ll use to send them, but these photos are crucial to all our lives. Make sure your father delivers them to the lunatics at the Grand Cathedral. Tell them Kod is here, and he’s found the legendary Land of Light. These photos are the proof."

  The captain named Monchi solemnly took the photos. However, he didn’t turn to leave immediately. Instead, he looked up at Charles and said, "Three hundred nautical miles is a long way. My ship doesn’t have enough fuel to make it there. If we pool the remaining fuel from all thirteen ships, I might be able to reach it."

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  "You can’t go alone. Your ship needs an escort. We must ensure there are no mistakes."

  "What about fuel then?"

  Charles’ gaze turned to the lush forest bathed in sunlight. "How could we not have fuel? Isn’t that all fuel over there?"

  Monchi and Linda exchanged glances. "But apart from you, none of us can get over there right now."

  "There are plenty of ways to block sunlight. Are we going to let ourselves be defeated by such a small problem? If there’s no good solution, there’s always a crude one."

  Soon, the small boats used for landing from all thirteen exploration ships were lowered and rowed toward the shore.

  When they approached the edge of the sunlight, all the crew flipped their boats upside down, carrying them on their backs as they walked onto the shore. The bright sand was soon dotted with what looked like land submarines on legs.

  By the time they reached the shore, Charles had already built a simple thatched shelter.

  Most of the ship’s workers, skilled in repairing ships, found building a shelter to block the sunlight an easy task.

  Using the wood, palm leaves, and banana leaves Charles had transported, the crew expanded the shaded area rapidly.

  Soon, a large shaded area covered by leaves appeared on Hope Island, expanding quickly.

  With the activity area completed, the crew got to work. Using their "land submarines," they felled the sturdy trees and quickly cut them into pieces.

  Simply hauling wet wood back to the ship as fuel was too inefficient. Before transporting the wood to the ships, they had to turn it into charcoal.

  Turning wood into charcoal was a simple process. First, they dug a pit in the ground, arranged the cut wood inside, and placed some dry grass on top.

  After layering wood and grass, they sealed the top with wet mud. They lit the dry grass from the bottom, and white smoke began to pour out of the ventilation holes at the top.

  In this incomplete combustion process, the wood quickly carbonized, turning into high-quality fuel.

  Under the thatched shelter, charcoal kilns of various sizes were lit. Within a day or two, the once beautiful forest on the island was left scarred, the serene woods reduced to bare stumps.

  Environmental protection was, of course, not on Charles’ mind. His only concern was how to get more fuel.

  By the third day, the first batch of charcoal kilns had completely cooled. Charles pulled out the fully carbonized wood from the hardened mud.

  Breaking it in half, he saw that the charcoal was thoroughly burned, with clear texture and vibrant color.

  Even though Charles didn’t know much about charcoal, he could tell this batch was good.

  "Throw it into the turbine and see how it burns," Charles said, handing the charcoal to James beside him.

  The big man nodded, bagged the charcoal, and headed toward the shore.

  By now, the thatched shelter extended into the sea, allowing direct passage from the island back into the darkness.

  Charles continued inspecting the other charcoal kilns. As he checked the third one, he saw someone dart out of the shelter, grab something from a bush, and quickly run back.

  It was his boatswain. Charles walked over and smacked the back of his head. "What are you doing? Trying to get yourself killed??"

  Only then did Charles see the rusted mechanical device in his hand, which looked like something left behind by the Foundation.

  Deep grinned nonchalantly. "Captain, it’s fine. We’ve all figured it out over the past few days. Staying in the sunlight for a short while won’t kill you."

  Charles couldn’t help but feel his boatswain was a bit reckless. There was no need to test such things. One mistake could cost a life.

  After repeatedly warning him not to do it again, Charles headed toward the left side of the shelter. The twelve captains were approaching, seemingly with something to discuss.

  As always, the enthusiastic Feuerbach was the first to speak. "Captain Charles, my men have found fresh water over there."

  "So what?" Charles replied. With the trees growing so well, of course there was fresh water, not to mention the Foundation’s ruins.

  The other captains’ faces lit up with eagerness. "Can we discuss the issue of claiming this island?"