Little Foulk had already wheeled his horse back into the port, shouting fiercely at the guards: “You fools with your eyes screwed onto the back of your heads! Unable to handle even this dreg of society?

Go erect crosses in the port square and nail the corpses of these damned bastards upon them, let them learn the price of causing trouble in the sacred and free Port Royal! Their ** shall rot under the sun, their souls shall whisper in agony across the square.

Before the midnight bell tolls today, I want to see the remaining criminals similarly crucified! Go now!” With that, Little Foulk did not linger, urging his massive demonic steed, MòMò'ěr, back towards the castle still belching black smoke.

Watching his retreating silhouette, the flustered port guards, the backdrop of the majestic castle and the smoke, Fang Senyan suddenly felt an indescribable sensation. Just then, he distinctly heard a low, hoarse voice whisper: “Strong on the outside, rotten within.” Hearing this, a meaningful smile touched the corners of Fang Senyan's mouth.

He couldn't help but turn to look, but found the crowd too chaotic to locate the speaker. However, he clearly noticed a glint of secretive greed flash in the eyes of several pirates.

……………. “Little Foulk’s actions are quite foolish,” Thirty minutes later, on the forecastle of the Bell and Goblet, Armand stood with his hands behind his back, speaking plainly.

Beside him stood a man wearing a brown top hat—it was the navigator, Charles. Charles maintained an extremely humble demeanor before Armand, the deference of a servant to his master, even bowing deeply when stepping back.

“This place has enjoyed peace for far too long, and countless eyes are fixed upon today’s riot. If the Foulk family had silently apprehended and executed all the criminals, perhaps people would still believe the Foulk family’s control over Port Royal hadn't waned…… But now, hmph….” Armand’s eyes flickered, and he reached out to stroke the smooth hilt of the sword at his waist, murmuring: “However, it would have been worse if Little Foulk hadn't shown himself.

Those idiotic guards are fine dealing with petty squabbles, but when a real crisis hits, they run around like headless flies. If Little Foulk hadn’t ridden that demonic horse, MòMò'ěr, out here to establish his authority through bloodshed, even the common pirates might have stirred.” Charles tilted his head slightly to gaze upon Port Royal under the sunlight; greed was evident in his eyes, mingled with a trace of ambition.

Port Royal sat astride the Caribbean’s Golden Route; the wealth accumulated over seventy years of peace could probably buy half of England. But the sun cast Armand’s shadow high and large over his form.

Charles frowned slightly, lowered his eyelids, and said calmly: “Perhaps Little Foulk is terribly poor at his actual duties, but we saw at the beginning… the power of that gun, that sword, and that horse! As long as those three objects, boasted as Holy Artifacts, remain, no one will dare ignore the former glory of the Foulk family!” Armand’s stern features curled into a sneer: “If the entire Foulk family depends only on those three things belonging to the dead, then its end is near.

Neither Old Jack, master of the Black Pearl, nor Blackbeard, ruler of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, would pay heed to the Three Sacred Artifacts.” “Old Jack is rumored to have become a Guardian of the Codex, and is himself the chief of the Native American Headhunters. As for Blackbeard, he mastered the dark magic of Voodoo ten years ago, and is now reportedly searching for the secret to turning the Queen Anne’s Revenge into a complete killing machine!

If it weren't for Captain Davy Jones of the Flying Dutchman maintaining a neutral and ambiguous stance, Port Royal would have been plundered long ago!” Charles paused, suddenly realizing that Armand was speaking far more than usual today, revealing secrets that normally required blood, severed heads, and gold sovereigns to exchange for. Armand took a deep breath and continued solemnly: “The Caribbean wind already carries the scent of blood and screams.

I feel a major shift is imminent within these few days. I usually don't interfere with your business with Scar Henry, but at a time like this, everyone aboard the Bell and Goblet must unite to seize this high-risk, high-reward opportunity!” Under Armand’s sharp, falcon-like gaze, Charles dared not entertain any other thoughts besides nodding.

However, what he truly thought remained impossible to fathom. …………… Under the strict orders of the current Lord Foulk, all the guards of Port Royal operated frantically, turning the entire peaceful harbor into utter chaos and pandemonium.

Fang Senyan, now a crewman on the Bell and Goblet, could naturally watch the spectacle with cold detachment. He noted that while the guards possessed decent strength, their discipline was worse than city magistrates.

Their searches were rough, involving loud cursing and outright bribery, eventually resulting in the capture of a few seemingly too infirm to even walk—vagrants brought forward to satisfy the command. Seeing this conduct, it was no wonder those wolf-like pirates were starting to harbor dissenting ideas.

To them, only cold steel and sheer power commanded respect! At that moment, a dull explosion echoed from the western streets of the port.

This sound might have been unfamiliar to the pirates in the harbor, but Fang Senyan recognized it as a grenade blast. Undoubtedly, the patrols by these local thugs had achieved some success; they must have located the hidden lair of some Contractors.

Fang Senyan stood on a distant hillside, granting him a clear view: two ancient, dilapidated houses in the port shook unwillingly twice before collapsing, kicking up a massive cloud of dust. Five or six figures scattered and fled, while the guards surrounding the area—fewer than three—were clearly at a loss, and reinforcements were still hundreds of meters away.

Thus, a grand chase naturally commenced. The pirates in the port showed no inclination to assist the citizens; instead, many laughed heartily, with some even whistling and cheering on the sidelines.

Seeing this scene, Fang Senyan’s thoughts stirred, and he immediately oriented himself and rushed toward the fray. Soon after, a gasping Contractor and a pursuing Port Royal guard appeared ahead of him.

This Contractor looked no different from an ordinary pirate: dark, weathered skin, a face somewhere between thirty and fifty years old, black headcloth binding his messy hair, a cheap shell necklace flung behind his neck. He wore a tight-fitting coarse linen shirt underneath, and his trousers were of dark grey, visibly dusty, linen fabric, paired with long socks and worn felt shoes.

He was gulping for air, glancing back frantically every few steps, clearly anxious and uneasy, his eyes wide with terror. Undoubtedly, maintaining a high-speed run while ascending a slope was extremely taxing.

Consequently, the Contractor’s pace began to slow noticeably, and the distance between him and the pursuing guard narrowed. Fang Senyan activated his Insight ability on the persistent guard, acquiring firsthand attribute data: “Dice” Kutz Port Royal Level II Guard Height 5'7", Weight 73G Strength 7 Agility 8 Stamina 5 Perception 11 Charm 7 Intelligence 3 Spirit 6 Basic Melee LV1, Basic Endurance LV1 Level II Guard Special Passive Ability: Teamwork LV1.

For guards accustomed to communal life, their strength receives a significant boost when allies are nearby. For every additional ally present, individual stats increase by 10%, up to a maximum of 100%.

Level II Guard Special Passive Ability: Tenacity LV1. Grants an additional 200 maximum Health Points.

As Fang Senyan was reviewing the guard’s attributes, the Contractor had already plunged headfirst into the half-abandoned shantytown halfway up the slope—the very area where Fang Senyan found himself when he first entered this world. Clearly, the Contractor realized he was about to be caught and sought to use the complex terrain to shake off his pursuer.

Fang Senyan first glanced back down at the port; sure enough, as he predicted: the three guards arriving as reinforcement were relaxed about the fight here—likely because it was a one-on-one engagement—and had hurried after the other fleeing Contractors. Watching this series of events unfold, a complex smile played on Fang Senyan's lips, and he slowly began to approach the shantytown, utilizing the cover of the structures.

Perhaps upon entering the intricate terrain of the shantytown, “Dice” Kutz sensed something amiss. As he closed in on the Contractor, he drew the sailor's knife at his waist and threw it.

It struck the enemy’s thigh with surprising accuracy, eliciting a sharp cry. The Contractor rolled on the ground, yet continued to scramble forward, half-crawling.

But he soon realized something was wrong. He turned his head and saw “Dice” Kutz behind him grinning, his hands folded across his chest, following closely.

The effective sailor’s knife had been retrieved and hung back at his hip. The guard’s demeanor was akin to a cat playing with a mouse.

The Contractor gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with despair, and drew a dagger from his waist, shouting wildly: “Don’t come any closer!” (To be continued, please visit for the latest chapters:.)

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