At the moment the Dawood rammed into the rooftop, Gita was jolted and thrown away. Fortunately, a hand reached out from the side to steady her. The owner of the hand was none other than Xiangzi. The boy's hat had long been blown away, and now his black hair danced in the wind, with a silver mask occasionally visible beneath.
He gripped the cord tying the airbag with one hand and stood firmly on the deck. Amidst the raging wind, his cloak fluttered behind him like a black flag, with a sword and staff at his waist. Yet his gaze was not looking in this direction, but beyond the airship.
Gita, shaken up, looked at this scene with initial bewilderment in her eyes but soon regained clarity, suddenly whispering urgently: "The captain is still down below!"
