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Chapter 272: The Daily Duels of the Pirate Crew
🕑 Added 2025-02-18 15:02:01 +0000 UTCCharlot’s methods, though rough around the edges, proved effective. Within a single day, he had risen from being a slave to becoming a low-ranking member of the Golden Rams Fleet. The pirates on Saint Michael Island came from all walks of life, many of them being orcs, making Charlot’s addition to their ranks entirely unremarkable. However, this wasn’t the Prison Army or the city patrol guards; no one here handed out free weapons. Charlot had to settle for picking up a tree branch, which he carried in his hand, giving him a somewhat bear-like appearance.
Before long, the pirates and slaves on this stretch of the wall all came to know this new bear-like recruit in the Golden Rams Fleet.
All the slaves knew Charlot had once been a slave himself, which made him treat everyone kindly. He even initiated several small projects to improve the lives of the slaves.
The pirates, on the other hand, quickly realized that this bear-like newcomer wasn’t just diligent but also exceptionally clever. He often came up with cunning ideas that solved problems neatly and made life a little easier for everyone.
For Charlot, this was his first time in this new world trying to exhaust every ounce of his abilities to rebuild his "social connections."
In the blink of an eye, Charlot had been blending in on Saint Michael Island for seven or eight days. After finishing his tasks, he found a secluded spot to secretly cultivate his Bloodfire Combat Energy.
Truthfully, Charlot would have preferred to train Blood Glory, but he didn’t dare risk revealing his true identity. For now, he could only use Bloodfire Combat Energy to hone his spiritual abilities.
Charlot’s spiritual aptitude was among the highest even within the ranks of high-level Transcendents. His exceptional aptitude allowed him to cultivate various secret techniques with unusual speed. Although he lacked the divine blessings that might come from directly confronting an evil god, he was still at the level of an “ordinary genius.”
Recently, the power seed formed by his Bloodfire Combat Energy had grown increasingly fiery. Even after a long day of labor, just a short session of cultivation would cause the heat waves radiating from the seed to restore his body to peak condition.
Charlot took a deep breath and was about to run through another cycle of Bloodfire Combat Energy when he suddenly felt a gust of wind at the back of his head. Quickly tilting his head to one side, he narrowly avoided a black iron rod that swiped past, almost smashing his skull.
This was the closest Charlot had come to death since his transmigration. Facing an evil god might shatter one’s soul instantly, but even then, it was a metaphysical danger. Battling orc assassins or dueling high-ranking Transcendents allowed some room for counterattacks. But this sneak attack had come with no warning, catching him completely off guard and nearly ending his life.
Charlot kicked up the tree branch from the ground, grabbed it with one hand, and swung it backhanded, striking the attacker’s wrist. The black iron rod clattered to the ground with a metallic ring.
Charlot focused his gaze on the assailant and flew into a rage. “Why are you trying to kill me?” he demanded.
The attacker, a pirate from another section of the wall, looked panicked. “Monkey Boss ordered it! It’s not my fault!” he stammered.
Charlot was familiar with this Monkey Boss. Among the pirates, nobody bothered to remember each other’s names, and few were willing to share their real ones, as they all carried some shameful past. Nicknames were the norm.
Monkey Boss was also an orc, though Charlot didn’t know his exact tribe. He suspected the man was from the Mangken Tribe, as he had a naturally red face, was cunning, and had a ruthless streak. Monkey Boss treated his subordinates with cruelty and slaves even worse. Rumors swirled that he had a penchant for cannibalism, secretly cooking and eating slaves he had killed.
Charlot was confident he hadn’t offended Monkey Boss, but he wasn’t the type to dwell on the reasons behind enmity. They were enemies now, and that was enough. Why waste energy pondering the cause? That would be self-torment.
Picking up the black iron rod, Charlot tested its weight. Though it wasn’t particularly long—about one and a half meters—it felt a bit unwieldy in his bear-like form. Still, it was far better than a tree branch.
The pirate who had attacked him saw Charlot’s expressionless face and assumed he was too scared to retaliate against Monkey Boss. He turned and bolted.
Charlot waited until the man had taken ten steps before hurling the iron rod. The weapon struck the fleeing pirate squarely in the head, splitting his skull and spilling his brains.
While Charlot could be soft-hearted at times, he was merciless to those who tried to kill him.
After dispatching the pirate, Charlot dragged the corpse by one leg and headed straight for another section of the wall.
Monkey Boss, the red-faced Mangken orc, was laughing and whispering with his underlings when he saw Charlot approaching. His expression turned to alarm, and he hastily grabbed an iron trident. “Kainan! What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted.
“You ordered your lackey to ambush me, aiming to bash my head in,” Charlot bellowed. “I’m here to challenge you to a duel!”
Hearing this, Monkey Boss forced a smile. His earlier panic stemmed from guilt, not fear. He didn’t consider Charlot—a rookie in the Golden Rams Fleet—a genuine threat. Laughing, he sneered, “A guest from the New Continent has a taste for bear paws, and you’re the only bear around here. I was going to let you die peacefully, but since you insist on making trouble, I’ll kill you myself!”
Raising his hands, Monkey Boss barked, “Everyone, attack!”
Monkey Boss had the air of a proper pirate leader, issuing commands with grandeur. Yet, like many bullies, he had no intention of fighting himself.
Dozens of pirates surged forward.
On Saint Michael Island, fights broke out daily, and death was commonplace. Might made right; justice and reason had no place here.
Charlot took a deep breath, forcing himself to adapt quickly to the pirate way of life. As the first pirate charged, Charlot sidestepped, tripped him with a foot, and struck him in the back of the head with the iron rod. The blow to the unprotected vital area killed the man instantly.
“Leaving without even offering drinks? So rude,” Charlot muttered with dark humor.
Having trained with masters such as Hundred Bears, Big Bear, Honey Bear, and Invincible Bear, Charlot was well-versed in bear combat techniques. Wielding the iron rod with the finesse of the Bearman Shield Hammer Technique, he held his ground against dozens of opponents, quickly knocking down five or six pirates.
The pirates, realizing they were outmatched, hesitated. They were not disciplined soldiers but opportunists who thrived on numbers. Seeing their comrades fall, none dared to advance further.
Ignoring the hesitant crowd, Charlot charged toward Monkey Boss, iron rod in hand.
Monkey Boss roared, brandishing his trident. The two clashed in a fierce melee, trading five or six moves. Charlot’s bear-like physique gave him greater strength, and his skill with the rod surpassed Monkey Boss’s crude techniques. Feigning an opening, Charlot baited his opponent into overextending, then swung his rod downward, breaking Monkey Boss’s neck.
As the red-faced orc collapsed, Charlot let out a triumphant roar. The power seed within his abdomen suddenly burst open...
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