“CRACK-CRACK!” With a resounding crash, the hulls of both vessels shuddered violently! It seemed the ram affixed to the bow of the Bell and Glass was some unique legendary artifact, for as the two ships smashed together, a dazzling light erupted from it, piercing through the massive hull of the merchant ship as if it were nothing more than kindling. Viewed from above, the Bell and Glass resembled a poisoned, razor-sharp rapier, deeply thrust into the vital underbelly of the larger vessel!

The pirates, crouched low, erupted in joyous roars. They first hurled weighted grappling hooks across, tethering the two ships together and quickly stringing up several makeshift bridges. Then, ragged and wild-eyed, they charged across, brandishing matchlocks and cutlasses. Though the opposing merchant ship managed to rally its crew for a single volley, the sparse shots only managed to fell five or six pirates. This meager resistance only stoked the ferocity of the rest. One-Eyed Kalon proved his mettle as a capable boatswain, not only leading the charge but wading through the fray, roaring as he cleaved down five or six men with his own cutlass. The pirates following him gained immense morale and swept the deck clean in one furious push.

Securing the enemy deck during the initial boarding was considered a massive advantage. However, if the enemy’s will to resist remained stubborn, the most arduous part was the subsequent room-by-room clearing operation. Especially since this merchant ship was likely over a thousand tons, divided into at least three decks, each containing twenty to thirty separate compartments. Once the enemy sailors retreated inside, bracing with their matchlocks and axes, they created pockets where a few could effectively hold off many—a truly stubborn obstacle.

It was then that Armand stepped forward. His face was grim, yet his eyes held a bloodthirsty, exhilarating gleam. Standing perfectly erect, he placed a hand on the hilt of the rapier at his waist and descended the companionway stairs into the ship’s belly with the measured, elegant stride of a general entering a ballroom. The pirates behind him roared their approval and rushed in after him, weapons raised.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, they were immediately met by a defensive line formed by a dozen sailors. Utilizing the narrow geography of the passage, several matchlock gunners knelt in the front, snapping their triggers: “Pop-pop!” Since Armand’s imposing appearance clearly marked him as the pirate leader, nearly every lead ball was directed squarely at him! Yet, a cruel, bloodthirsty grin spread across Armand’s face. In an instant, he drew the silver rapier from his waist and began to move it, slashing and thrusting in the air with dazzling speed. His hand moved so fast that it was utterly imperceptible to the naked eye; all anyone saw was several silver streaks slicing through the air around Armand, deflecting the incoming lead projectiles, which embedded themselves deeply into the surrounding wooden bulkheads.

Armand continued forward, his pace unbroken, stepping right through the makeshift barricade the sailors had established. Behind him, the dozen men stood frozen, their faces masks of horror and disbelief. After a protracted moment, blood began to stream from their throats, foreheads, and chests—their vital spots—and only then did they slowly slump to the deck. In the lingering afterimages imprinted on their dead eyes was still the image of Armand’s receding figure: elegant, commanding, and perfectly upright!

The pirates remaining behind were long accustomed to such displays. They first cast a look of reverence toward their captain, then swarmed forward. With practiced professionalism, they looted the corpses, sorting the spoils systematically. They then used scraps of the dead men’s clothing to wipe the blood from their hands before unceremoniously tossing the stripped bodies overboard. Fang Senyan considered following, but witnessing Armand’s terrifying momentum leading the charge, followed by the pirates’ swift, assembly-line looting, he wisely checked his impulse.

If he had rushed in now, even picking up scraps, he would only earn the contempt of the other pirates. He dared not forget the side quest he carried: to maximize his standing among the pirates. He would never commit such a short-sighted act. However, Cree refused to let such a perfect opportunity to kick a fallen foe slip by and followed directly in their wake.

The sounds of battle slowly faded into the depths of the ship’s interior. Clearly, Armand could not maintain that superhuman, one-man army status indefinitely, but it was undeniable: under his command, these pirates unleashed their absolute peak strength. Fang Senyan remained on the deck of the Bell and Glass, arms crossed over his chest, seemingly oblivious to the disdainful glances cast his way by the surrounding crew. He stared coldly at the rows of dark, silent cannon muzzles visible along the hull of the merchant ship. A creeping feeling settled in his gut: the pirates’ assault had proceeded too smoothly.

After all, most of the pirate fleet, hampered by speed, had not yet arrived. This meant at least a third of the Alliance forces had yet to engage. Yet, the Spanish fleet was already showing clear signs of defeat. This seemed fundamentally unsound. If the Great Armada had been this easy to subdue, why would the English Navy need to rely on pirates in the first place? There was only one explanation... this wealthy Spanish merchant, Fernandez, must have more tricks up his sleeve!

Just as Fang Senyan reached the bow to survey the scene, the Spanish flagship, which had been engaging the Black Pearl, suddenly wheeled about, blasting the Pearl back with a heavy barrage. Then, it heaved three lifeboats over the side facing their direction!

The Age of Sail had been underway for a full century, and shipbuilding techniques were highly refined, with clear specialization in design. Though classified as lifeboats, each of these three vessels was nearly a hundred tons displacement, fully equipped with sails and oarsmen. It was clearly visible that they carried numerous fully armed, regular Spanish marines. They cut through the waves like arrows loosed from a bow, heading straight for the Bell and Glass!

Under normal circumstances, the people on those three boats would be courting death. With the high speed of the Bell and Glass, they could easily keep them perpetually out of reach, using the three five-pound stern chasers to kite them to death! But now, the Bell and Glass was buried deep in the merchant ship’s side, firmly lashed by the boarding pirates to ensure they couldn't flee—meaning the vessel had completely lost all maneuverability.

The situation became even more dire: Captain Armand, Boatswain Kalon, and the vast majority of the elite fighters had stormed into the merchant vessel! Meanwhile, the First Mate, Scar Henry, had been struck on the head and lay unconscious. Under these conditions, those left behind were either the old, the weak, the injured convalescents, or the wounded returning for rest. How could these remnants possibly stop the disciplined, wolf-like Spanish marines once they boarded? Just observing their orderly alignment, hands resting on their swords, maintaining silent uniformity, presented a stark contrast to the panicked scrambling and shouting of the pirates left on deck!

Every pirate remaining aboard watched in stunned silence; their single, collective thought was: "Captain! Hurry back!"

But for Armand, he too was facing the greatest crisis of his pirating career!

After leading his men into the interior, he was methodically clearing the enemy compartment by compartment. Armand was exceedingly thorough because his father had once lost his entire twenty-year legacy when a single crewman was overlooked during a capture; that crewman waited until the pirates were drunk and reveling near midnight before igniting the powder magazine. Armand himself had narrowly escaped death only because he happened to be out at sea that night.

However, the price of such meticulous searching was inevitably low efficiency. By the time Armand noticed that the resistance ahead was unexpectedly weak, gold coins were already scattered across the floor. These pirates, accustomed to their chaotic freedom, might be fierce fighters, but their discipline was appalling, and their individual quality quite low. Coupled with their belief that they held the overall advantage, they immediately surged forward to grab the loot, some even shouting insults at each other over the division of spoils. Had Armand’s prestige not been so absolute, they might have drawn steel amongst themselves.

The greedy, disorganized pirates followed the trail of scattered gold quickly, soon arriving at a spacious area resembling a dining hall. One-Eyed Kalon, who fought fiercely, ensured he lagged behind no one during the plundering. He spotted a leather sack of Pesetas (Spanish currency) down a side passage and lunged for it with shining eyes. But at that very moment, Armand’s expression darkened sharply, for a wave of indescribable, foul stench assaulted his nostrils!

“CRASH!” With a deafening sound, splintered wood flew everywhere! A massive, blackened two-handed axe cleaved down through the bulkhead of the cabin! The axe-head was enormous, utterly black, measuring at least the size of a round dining table. If one were to calculate its weight precisely, it would likely be around two hundred kilograms! Kalon’s wide eyes instantly flooded with blood. He managed to raise his cutlass in a desperate block, but the cutlass was immediately batted away. The sweeping giant axe-blade sent him flying five or six meters before he slammed into a pillar at the rear and rebounded back, vomiting a spray of blood from his mouth! It looked like several bones in his body had fractured at the very least!

(To be continued, please visit for the latest chapter: .)

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