Chapter 84: A Battle for One (Part I)

It seemed they were a step too late.

Restoring the dead to their former state was beyond Ain’s abilities; resurrection was impossible. She could only shake her head at Qiubai.

“The captain... It’s rather absurd, isn’t it? A person courageous and clever enough to cross the doldrums, yet meets his end in a ‘peaceful’ little town. It’s quite unexpected.”

“In the end, pirates are just pirates. The hot-blooded adventurers are but a rare few; murder, arson, and plunder are the true hallmarks of this profession.”

Whether someone dies from a natural disaster or at the hands of another always carries ambiguity and an element of surprise. Yet, the latter is often harder to accept than the former.

Captain Grisha was a man of both courage and intellect. Though born a miner—a status that often precluded access to knowledge in this world—he belonged to those cunning individuals who managed to broaden their horizons. Unfortunately, cleverness rarely outlasts brute strength.

Escaping poverty and living a prosperous life was Grisha’s motivation for “adventure.” Now, his wish had been fulfilled, but no one expected it would only last for such a brief moment.

“Let’s go. I hope his son is still alive... After all, I quite like that child.”

Grisha’s death was a fact. Qiubai had just agreed to fulfill his final wish, but despite his words, his thoughts leaned toward pessimism.

If his guess was right, after their recent grand adventure, Captain Grisha had amassed a fortune far beyond that of ordinary people. Whether it was millions or tens of millions in currency, he was a target pirates would never let slip away.

So he was killed. Would his son be spared?

...

This small town had a modest chapel. After those who dared resist the pirates were “dealt with,” the remaining residents had been herded there.

In principle, religion is meant to teach virtue, and faith is a positive, luminous act. Yet, ironically, the ugliest deeds often unfold before the eyes of “belief” and “God.”

Time and again, such events prove only one truth: “Only people can save themselves.”

The pirates’ operation was now in its final stage. On the open ground before the chapel, piles of loot were heaped, soon to be hauled back to their ship.

As for the townsfolk, they might be left alone or slaughtered wholesale. But whatever the outcome, they had already witnessed the consequences of resistance. Now, those still alive hoped simply to survive, so they remained silent and meek as lambs, hoping their docility might win the pirates’ mercy and “forgiveness.”

Yet, as the pirates reveled in their bounty and the trembling hostages, one among them, listless, shifted his gaze—he saw two figures charging toward them at great speed from afar.

“Who are you? Stop right there!”

His warning drew the attention of all the pirates. With the crack of firearms, dozens of gun barrels turned toward Qiubai and Ain.

“Sorry to interrupt, um... Actually, never mind. Which one of you is the captain?” Qiubai had no time to figure out the name of this pirate crew; he simply targeted the leader.

“Hmm, you all seem a bit weak, don’t you?”

There were fewer than two hundred pirates present, easily controlling thousands of townsfolk. This was not surprising—they were professionals. But Qiubai’s impression was that they were not as formidable as he had imagined.

So... thinkers, perhaps?

Indeed, Qiubai’s instinct proved accurate. Compared to their own strength, this pirate crew’s achievements were “remarkable.” Though but obscure, lower-tier pirates, they thrived in their domain—simply put, with a power of five, they often managed to devour prey of ten.

Unlike the impulsive brutes who relied on sheer force, these pirates planned every move meticulously to maximize their success. This operation was proof enough. To call them “intellectuals” might not be precise, but at least they were pirates with brains, limited only by their modest capabilities.

“I’ll say it again. Stop right there!”

Following their usual habit, when faced with someone who dared charge in despite their numbers, their first reaction was to keep their distance.

They could not believe anyone would be so reckless as to seek death.

Qiubai stopped, just as expected, but as the pirates breathed a sigh of relief, he vanished.

No, not vanished—he dashed into their midst with a speed that outstripped all reaction.

The pirates were scattered, as they needed to control the large crowd. In such circumstances, the “commander”—the captain—would undoubtedly be positioned at the center.

If one took the pile of loot as a marker, the captain would not be far. He would also need to communicate constantly with his subordinates, especially when unexpected events arose. Even without words, a glance or a small gesture was enough to identify the leader.

It was not difficult, requiring only a keen eye.

More importantly, the pirates were relatively relaxed, their operation “successfully concluded.” No one expected an interloper at this stage.

A whirlwind converged—

Before anyone could mount an effective response, a cold blade pierced the shoulder bone of a pirate at the center, and with tremendous impact, pinned him to the chapel wall several meters behind, with a sickening sound.

The unbearable pain shot through his nerves to his brain, and before a scream could escape, a second blade stabbed through his calf, suspending him between two points.

Ain, following Qiubai, cut through the pirate ranks as well. As she turned to face them, two long rifles—just snatched from the pirates—were already in her hands.

“Don’t move.”

Her voice was calm, almost cold.

Though wielding two weapons looked impressive, in reality, her firepower was no match for theirs; she was the one who ought to avoid rash movement.

At last, the pirates realized an important member had been taken hostage.

“Captain... Didn’t expect you to be so young. Mind introducing yourself? Your name, perhaps?”

Though he had been pinned to the wall in such a wretched state, the pirate was extraordinary. The second assault made him choke back his scream; this young man, barely older than Qiubai, glared at him with a bloodthirsty look.

“‘Red Wolf’ Flodaya.” He gave his name.

Qiubai breathed a little easier. At least he hadn’t stabbed the wrong person. The man’s age seemed ill-suited for a captain, yet he was, in fact, the leader.

Perhaps, in such pirate groups, youth and a calculating mind were especially prized.

“Well then, Captain Red Wolf, if you wish to avoid further unpleasantness, please instruct your crew to behave. My actions are ‘forced by circumstance’; I bear you no particular grudge, just fulfilling a request.”

“There’s a boy named ‘Erlun.’ Have you heard of him?”

“Huh? A boy? Of course I’ve heard of him.”

Despite the seemingly cooperative words, the captain’s twisted expression made it clear he would never yield, nor act as Qiubai demanded.

The next moment, his reply was icy, just two words:

“Open fire!”