After a long period of work, Tarbert was a little tired, and after handing over to his colleagues who had changed shifts, he put on a coat and leaned against the bed in the sergeant's cabin, and in his dreams he was back in his hometown of Chicago, seven thousand miles away, and played in the yard with his newborn son, accompanied by his thin and docile wife.

What a pleasure it was to be with his own family, which, though still humble and poor, was the home of his soul and the source of his strength. Immersed in such a happy time, two hours passed before I knew it. When his consciousness finally broke free from the manipulation of Oneiroi and was about to wake up from a brief moment of happiness, a wave of intimately connected to his mind woke him up.

Tarbert sat up from the bed in a trance, no shoes on, and walked out barefoot on the cold floor, through the long corridor, up the steps to the spacious officer's cabin.

"Sir?" At this moment he seemed to wake up, and seeing that there was no one around, he knocked softly on the hatch.

After a moment of silence, the door opened.

Although there were two expressionless Germans standing next to him, he walked straight in as if he had nothing to see, through the door of the compartment, and then he saw his commander.

"Are you alright, sir?" Tarbert asked with concern.

"Oh, Tarbert." The room was a mess, with shards of tables and chairs everywhere, and Eric was covered in blood, but in good spirits. He didn't look back, stood in front of the window and replied with a smile. "I'm fine, great."

There was an inexplicable excitement in his expression.

Although the storm raging in the Atlantic Ocean did not cease at this time, a huge hole was opened above the ship by an invisible force, like the center of the eye of the storm, and the wind and waves were calm within a few square miles, without the dark and dense dark clouds, and the golden sunlight shone down from the distant space, and sprinkled all over Eric, making him full of golden light.

At this moment. He looked like a god.

An indescribable shudder erupted in Tarbert's heart, his hands clasped tightly in front of his chest, and then he fell to his knees reverently.

Without further words, Eric quietly admired the wonderful view.

Now, he's finally taken a step of his own.

The most critical step.

For the rest of the day, he did not go out, and stayed in his room to consolidate his strength, leaving all the foreign affairs behind.

Without his reminder, the ship would not have crashed into the reef and sunk, would have been accidentally bombed by Allied planes, and would the Germans on board not have found an opportunity to riot. It doesn't matter anymore. At this moment, nothing can be compared with such a great feeling, and even if the ship is lost, and the Americans and the Germans on board are all killed, there is nothing to be sorry for. Of course, he didn't really need to do that, although the boiling power showed the tyrannical and domineering nature, the strengthened brain could naturally dominate them into the right track.

At this point, Eric has a new understanding of the entire material world. The macro and micro changes are no longer hidden, like a shy flower blooming for him layer by layer, even a drop of water can be analyzed from all angles at the same time, becoming as brilliant as a diamond. As long as he wants. The entire ship, no matter how big or small, was under control, not only steel, but any matter that did not have energy protection could be broken down by him with a single thought. Even the human soul is no longer as hazy as a layer of fog. Under the scrutiny of the psychic powers, they are almost like flowing matter, and they are no longer elusive.

But. Although this progress has been made, it does not mean that Eric will use telepathy to enter the inner world of others with impunity, and distort their souls as if he were slaves.

No matter how weak it may be, the human soul is the greatest work of the Creator, and it is necessary to have enough respect for what is truly great, rather than to take it by virtue of its position of strength. The effect of force is mutual, with the strength of the professor, long in and out of the hearts of ordinary people, and after a long time of accumulation and loss of his own position, Eric will never repeat the mistakes of the past.

Moreover, manipulating the mind is a shortcut, and although a shortcut will bring good results, it can also make people weak. It is tragic that once habit becomes dependence, the original tool becomes the master, and the master loses his authority and becomes a slave to power.

With this in mind, Eric basically loosened the constraints on his subordinates, allowing them to make their minds more active, allowing them to put forward their own opinions and retain some influence only in key places.

Just like now, while his new plan surprises everyone, Eric is still willing to put some effort into convincing them rather than forcing Guò with his own strength.

"Sir, do you want to think again." Tarbert, as the sailor leader, had to tactfully express his opinion. His reason is nothing more than that he finally escaped a small life, and he tried his best to get a boat, and then he just needs to wait for rescue, and your old man will spare the fragile hearts of his brothers. The others were of a similar opinion, and as Eric ceased to sway their will, the ordinary sailors immediately reverted to mediocrity.

"Sir." Another pleaded that he and Eric weren't as close as Tarbert, and that he was a bit of a grin. "Sir, if it's a fight in a bar at Brooklyn Naval Base right now, and you let me rush at ten opponents, but if you want me to die with you, then I can only say I'm sorry." Although his words were rude, they emboldened those behind him.

"Sir, we have confirmed our bravery, as evidenced by this boat and more than a hundred Germans. Of course, this has been done under your leadership, and we all admire you very much. But we've done enough, and now we just want to get out of it as much as we can, after all, we still have family waiting for us in the United States. The other person lowered his posture, but his thoughts were basically the same as everyone's, and he finally survived, and normal people want to live longer.

"yes, as long as we get out, we're all heroes, and chicks all over America will happily climb into our beds." Barry shouted loudly from the side, and the others nodded.

This is the status quo, both fearful of what might happen to keep going, and complacent about past achievements, a group of people who are hell-bent on slipping away from the battlefield and must cool down their hot minds to face reality.

Eric remained silent, waiting for the others to finish their opinions, and his mouth was dry and he could no longer come up with a new point of view.

"I can understand your wishes, no one wants to die in vain. But I beg you to tell me, if you think it is how we can get out of the present predicament and get out of the Italian territorial waters? ”

That's right, it's Italy's territorial waters. During a week-long wandering, with the help of the storms, ocean currents, night and the magical power of someone in the North Atlantic, the German wreck not only did not sink, but miraculously approached the European Big 6, and even mixed through the heavily guarded Strait of Gibraltar and entered the noisy Mediterranean Sea all the way to the Apennine Peninsula. When the storm subsided, Eric gradually withdrew his strength, and the dizzily sailors were shocked to find that they had actually touched under the noses of the Axis powers.

After a hysterical panic, the Americans, brandishing their weapons, locked all the Germans in warehouses, and then ran to Eric's plea for help, hoping that he would come up with an idea to solve the problem, but Eric's whimsy almost caused the group to faint again.

But he has his own reasons.

"Listen." Eric opened the chart and showed his current location to the eight rookie sailors. "According to the descriptions of the German prisoners and your own observations, we have now managed to pass through the Italian line between Sardinia and Sicily, with Nazi navies on the east and west, and at least 16o nautical miles south to reach North Africa, and where are our current coordinates?"

"Latitude 4o°54 north, longitude 12°57 east." Tarbert replied in a low voice. "Close to the Ponting Islands."

"Thank you, Mr. Tarbert." Eric said, shifting his baton north.

"Everyone can see clearly that any direction except the north will bring us ruin. And we don't have enough fuel to go that far, and even if the Allies were to be contacted by radio in Guò, I doubt that they would risk their lives to save us. We are close to the Italian mainland, and if we don't choose the right one, although the Italian 6th Army can't stand the test like a rabbit, as far as I can see, their air force or navy still has the courage to shoot at a broken ship or drop a few bombs from a distance, and judging from their experience in killing their own marshals with anti-aircraft guns, the level of these guys is not much worse than that of making macaroni. ”

"Then how about we surrender, I heard that the captives captured by Italy can eat a luxury set menu every day." Although everyone was gloomy, there was also a young sailor with a longing on his face.

"You'd have to be a member of the British royal family as well." Eric scoffed at this mention and continued to strike them.

"Besides, you drove the working Germans back to the warehouse without my permission, and now they must all understand what is going on outside, and with your mistreatment these days, I don't think they will be so merciful as not to hang you—perhaps they will wash some of you, butter them, and fry them slowly over low heat and eat them as steaks."

His threat made the faces of the sailors all turn gray, and he was more weak than others, and he was one of the people who abused the German prisoners the most.

With this in mind, the next agitation is logical.

"There is no way back, now we have to go north. 37 nautical miles away is the port of Rome, and all we have to do is to sail the ship over, take advantage of the enemy's unpreparedness, and capture Mussolini alive. ”

He slapped the map hard, and the eight sailors reflexively stood up. (To be continued!)

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