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Despite the fact that this pirate vessel had deployed all its elite forces, leaving its interior defenses severely depleted, the presence of the highly respected Armand ensured a remarkable stability. The remaining crew members were mostly the old, the weak, the sick, and the disabled, yet they all maintained a united front, at least outwardly showing no sign of panic or worry. The ship was kept dark, without any loud clamor, operating in perfect order, with even spirits for sterilizing wounds and bandages already prepared.

It is worth noting that Long-Legged Robin, a man promoted entirely by Fang Senyan, was conspicuously among those left behind.

On the surface, Robin's retention appeared to be a spontaneous decision by Armand, aimed at leaving a mid-level pirate officer to facilitate the transmission of his commands. In truth, everyone understood that Armand was uneasy about letting the Boatswain Fang Senyan out of his sight, so he naturally separated Robin, whom Fang had single-handedly elevated, to prevent the two from conspiring or causing trouble once beyond his direct observation—especially under the lure of potentially immense wealth.

However, Robin, that old rogue, showed no unusual reaction to Armand's arrangement. For a man who had scrambled through the Caribbean pirate life for decades, five words summed up his loyalty: "Whoever feeds me is my mother." Whoever offered him greater benefits was his current object of fidelity.

Distant, raging fires dyed the night sky red, punctuated occasionally by shrill screams. Robin pulled out an exquisitely inlaid gold pocket watch from his breast pocket (Note: Pocket watches were not produced until the late 17th century; treat this item as a soul-bound piece of equipment). He checked it, nodded, and then cast an envious glance toward Port Royal, Port-au-Prince, on the shore before stepping towards the lower cabins. Standing guard outside Fang Senyan's cabin were two burly, stout pirates, listlessly leaning against a nearby pillar, picking their fingernails, digging their noses, and swatting flies while scratching their toes. Robin immediately coughed upon seeing them, put on a stern face, and loudly berated them:

"Look at what you’re doing! Great Captain Armand ordered you to guard Mr. Kree properly, and you two fools dare to slack off?"

The two pirates instantly sprang up as if stabbed, looking at Robin’s face, which was as flat and lifeless as a playing card. They could only offer sheepish smiles, pulling out several shillings to press into Robin's hand, begging the elder gentleman to be lenient. Robin initially refused vehemently, only relenting after the bulk of the money from the pirates' purses had settled in his grasp. He then let out a slight "Hmph," waved them away, and pushed open the cabin door to enter. The two guards, naturally, cursed him viciously in their minds, sending colorful salutations to all the female relatives of Robin's entire family seven times over.

As the door opened, Fat Kree, who had apparently been busy with something, suddenly jumped up. His face looked rather pale and ashen, resembling a hapless scoundrel caught red-handed in a theft. He offered a nervous, dry laugh toward Robin and suddenly asked with great tension:

"Mr. Robin, have they returned victorious?"

Robin found Mr. Kree’s demeanor extremely peculiar, but he dismissed it as mere anxiety from concern. He bowed slightly, unconcerned:

"Esteemed Mr. Kree, before setting out, the Boatswain entrusted me with a task: if he had not returned precisely one hour and a half after his departure, I was to deliver this letter to you. Please note the timing; I have fulfilled my promise and delivered the letter to you punctually."

Kree was clearly unprepared for this and looked momentarily stunned:

"A letter?"

Robin nodded solemnly:

"You can rest assured, sir. Upon receiving the letter, I swore an oath in the name of my father's soul never to look inside and to deliver it to you precisely on time. Therefore, no one knows the contents of this letter except the Boatswain."

In this world, due to the existence of various supernatural events and magic, oaths were not as common and unrestrained as in the real world; they were considered highly solemn acts. Swearing in the name of one's father’s soul was among the most weighty of all oaths—though Robin’s main reason for doing so was that Fang Senyan had offered him a handsome reward of ten whole English Pounds beforehand.

Kree accepted the letter from Robin with confusion and eagerly tore open the envelope to read. As he took in the first line, cold sweat immediately beaded on Kree’s forehead, because the letter began with those exact eleven words: "My Dear Demolitions Expert, Mr. Kree."

My Dear Demolitions Expert, Mr. Kree:

Please forgive me for addressing you this way only now. In truth, from the moment we first met, I formed a relatively clear inference about your identity and specialty.

First, you are someone who presents a weak threat in terms of both close combat and ranged attacks, yet you were able to participate in your organization's critical operation to demolish the castle at Port Royal. This suggests that you must hold a crucially important tactical position within that plan! Given the initial difficulty level of the space we currently inhabit, the non-combat roles in the team that truly qualify as "important" are not numerous. Considering the peculiar nature of the Nightmare Space, these roles are limited to: reconnaissance achieved through high perception that penetrates all barriers; extensive networking gained via high charisma; strong team enhancement effects resulting from high intelligence or high spirit; and, of course, demolition work, which can be considered a core position.

Among these roles, your Perception is clearly not high, otherwise you would not have failed to select the correct escape route, leading to your being hunted by those guards to the brink of death. Your Charisma is so low that you relied on my prestige to borrow money from the pirates—so you must possess one of the remaining two attributes.

However, the reactions of the other team members betrayed you—if you were someone who could bring strong enhancement effects to the team, they would undoubtedly employ various methods to find you, rather than appearing so indifferent to whether you lived or died, as they do now.

After eliminating the other possibilities, the remaining path, however incredible it seems, must be the correct answer. Of course, if I only possessed the intelligence above, I would indeed lack the confidence to firmly establish the esteemed title of Demolitions Expert upon you. Yet, I noticed one small detail: after the decisive battle with the Spanish Armada, you surprisingly made a not insignificant personal contribution and received a reward of at least two ancient gold pounds.

I followed this clue and investigated, discovering that your contribution was gained through cooperation with the gunners in the lower hold! That gunner frankly told his boatswain that when the respected Mr. Kree was loading gunpowder beside him, it miraculously allowed his cannon to fire farther and with greater power! With that, respected Mr. Kree, the final strong piece of my puzzle has slotted into place.

If the title of Demolitions Expert is placed upon you, it naturally explains why you were so adamant about not returning to the team and insisted on staying aboard the ship despite being relegated to a secondary role—given your specific combat style, returning to the main team would likely leave you marginalized, making it far more convenient and comfortable to remain on this pirate vessel—where you can use my reputation as a cover to accomplish many things.

For example, borrowing large sums of money from pirates and placing the debt upon my shoulders, Or perhaps... utilizing the ample time aboard the ship to secretly fabricate a large number of psychic bombs and bury them throughout various parts of the vessel.

Oh! Dear Cousin Kree, please do not become agitated; be careful that the low and hard ceiling of the cabin does not injure your head. Since I dared to reach this conclusion, I naturally possess sufficient evidence.

Unlike you, my Perception reached a full fourteen points. With my deliberate focus, I can still vaguely determine the general area of anything that threatens my life. After careful searching, I finally discovered a small piece of explosive material you stuck beneath the stool. I must admit that this type of bomb, manufactured from psychic energy, is remarkably concealed—a true work of art—and it is hard to imagine that something so pliable, like chewing gum, could possess such astonishing destructive power. Of course, based on my observations, the cycle for you to create one is quite long; it seems you can produce only one roughly every twenty-four hours.

P.S.: Fang Senyan’s Perception is not as high as Armand’s, but because he already held a preconceived notion of danger, he deliberately searched for things that could detect the bombs, which Armand would not. This is like a man dealing with mice in his house: even if he is near-sighted, he can still deliberately find a mouse hole, whereas a pilot visiting his house might not notice it.

Having seen through all your meticulously laid plans, I can also roughly deduce your scheme. Undoubtedly, your foresight is sharp and accurate. While all the pirates—including myself—had our eyes fixed on the affluent Port Royal and the castle rumored to be piled high with treasure, you fixed your breakthrough point on this very pirate ship, the Bell and The Goblet.

Judging by the distribution of your bombs, you targeted Armand's captain’s quarters—think of the plot in Pirates of the Caribbean 4: Blackbeard’s cabin even displayed a full dozen bottles of rum enchanted with dark magic. If the legendary Black Pearl could be contained within a bottle, Armand certainly cannot compare to Blackbeard, but—but! He is still one of the future Seven Pirate Lords! The wealth in his captain's quarters must be described in colossal terms!

All you lacked was the opportune moment—the moment when the Bell and The Goblet was completely empty.

At that time, you could detonate the bombs placed in the hold to create massive chaos, simultaneously using the opportunity to blow open the captain's cabin door, plunder everything you desired, and then escape along the path where you had pre-planted explosives. Anyone pursuing you would be hurled into the air by the subsequent huge explosions, left to die in agony.

Coincidentally, I was also eliminating the figures of real authority on this pirate ship, such as the former Boatswain Caron, Erwin, and others; these powerfully capable individuals would also have been obstacles to your plan. Thus, while secretly rejoicing, you were determined to stay aboard and secretly await a better time—for this, I must admit, I certainly benefited from your mentality—may a benevolent God bless you.

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