Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 437 Scorpion-Tailed Beast Islands

The Scorpion Islands, with their central location and abundance of fresh water and jungle, became an important stop for merchant fleets to rest and replenish supplies. There were no cities or long-term residents here, because the Scorpion Beasts were everywhere, and one could easily die on the island.

The massive Iron Islands fleet anchored off the outskirts of the Helicopter Islands, all ships carefully maintaining a safe distance from the unsettlingly lush coastline.

Euron warned all the Ironborn: stay away from the island, for there lurks a deadly threat in the jungle.

But some hardened citizens, accustomed to living on the edge, regard warnings as cowardice.

Dozens of the most reckless and belligerent men, lured by the unknown land and potential treasure, urged each other on, rowing their small boats and determined to set foot on that damp beach.

At first, only the rustling sounds from the depths of the jungle and the eerily quiet atmosphere were unsettling. But soon, the hunters in the shadows revealed their power. From beneath the decaying leaves and from the twisted treetops, scorpion-tailed beasts with venomous stings launched lightning-fast attacks.

"ah--!"

A piercing scream shattered the tranquility of the jungle. Dozens of Ironborn were struck one after another, the poisonous stings easily piercing their leather armor and even their muscles.

The feeling was indescribable. First, there was a sharp pain, like being stabbed with a red-hot iron rod. Then, a strange, tingling sensation, both hot and numbing, spread rapidly through the blood vessels, like the strongest cheap liquor mixed with poison. Even strong men collapsed to the ground instantly, their muscles twitching uncontrollably.

"Incredibly painful—" One of the victims writhed on the ground, squeezing out these words through clenched teeth, his face contorted in a bizarre expression of extreme agony.

This experience is deadly; soon the wounds begin to turn black and swell, breathing becomes difficult, and consciousness rapidly fades.

"Quickly! Take it back! Summon the scholar!"

Seeing this, their companions on the shore rushed forward with a chill down their spines, risking further attacks, to drag and pull the groaning, convulsing wounded back to the small boat. The ship's doctor and herbalists immediately began a tense rescue effort, washing the wounds with a specially made antidote and administering strong medicine.

The whole process was chaotic and dangerous. The air was filled with the painful groans of the wounded, the roars of their companions, and the pungent smell of blood mixed with herbs.

Thanks to timely rescue efforts, these dozens of reckless lives were pulled back from the brink of death, but everyone was exhausted, pale-faced, and still shaken. Had it been just a moment later, the Scorpion-tailed Beast Islands would have been their final resting place.

While the other Ironborn were still struggling with the venom of the Scorpion-tailed Beasts, Euron ventured alone into the depths of the island's dense forest.

Euron was not carrying a weapon, but he was surrounded by an invisible pressure—a Conqueror's Haki that spread outwards from him like tangible ripples.

Wherever it passed, the ferocious scorpion-tailed beasts seemed to have encountered their natural enemy, and they all retreated in panic, hiding in the depths of the dense forest and letting out fearful howls. Not one of them dared to come forward to provoke it.

After traversing the intricate paths, Euron arrived at the heart of the island.

The trees here were exceptionally tall, blocking out the sun, and the air was filled with an ancient and decaying aura. In the midst of an eerie silence, a massive altar suddenly appeared before him.

It was constructed of a dark stone, enduring the erosion of wind and rain yet remaining sturdy. At the center of the altar stood a statue—a lion's body, strong and powerful, connected to a scorpion's tail, raised high and bearing a deadly sting. This was the image of the legendary "Sphinx," the savage deity worshipped by the remnants of the island's former inhabitants.

The passage of time has not completely erased the power of faith.

Euron could clearly sense that a faint but extremely pure divine power still lingered on the altar, a remnant of the ancient totem.

He stepped forward slowly and placed his hand on the cold surface of the altar.

"Activate—Divine Power Absorption."

[Command confirmed]

[Begin to absorb—the power of the Lion-bodied, Scorpion-tailed Beast God]

The remaining divine power, as if finding its home, transformed into a scorching yet chilling torrent that surged into Euron's body. The altar beneath his feet groaned under the unbearable weight, cracks spreading, and the statue instantly turned to dust.

[Devouring complete]

[You have gained the power of the rules: Immunity to all poisons]

You gain +1 Strength and +1 Spirit.

You have gained 30000 Soul Points and 20000 System Points.

Euron slowly opened his eyes, feeling the surging new life force within him and the almost absolute poison resistance. This dangerous island was now as harmless as a backyard to him.

As night completely enveloped the Scorpion Islands, and only the sound of waves lapping against the ship's hull remained on the sea, Euron's figure slowly emerged from the depths of the dark jungle and stepped onto the gangplank to return to the flagship.

Unlike the disheveled state of the other Ironborn during the day, Euron walked with composure, his robes perfectly in place.

When Euron walked onto the deck carrying the makeshift cage, all the Ironborn's eyes were immediately drawn to him.

The flickering firelight illuminated dozens of restless scorpion-tailed beasts darting about in their cages, their hard shells reflecting a dangerous, eerie light like obsidian and amber.

These bizarre creatures are only about half the size of a palm, yet their shells are as lustrous as polished gemstones, mostly deep black or dark brown. Most chillingly, each scorpion-tailed beast has a clearly discernible, distorted "human face" pattern naturally formed on its back; the empty eye sockets and slightly open mouths seem to scream silently in the flickering firelight. Their high-raised tails, with their barbed stingers, occasionally raise, emitting a subtle but terrifying "click," announcing the deadly threat lurking within.

The experienced sailors began to talk in hushed tones.

The venom of this scorpion-tailed beast is a legendary "instantly lethal poison" that can completely destroy a person's nerves in an instant, causing the heart to stop abruptly.

For this reason, despite the dangers, there are always audacious merchant ships that stop here and send their crews deep into the jungle to hunt them, all for the sake of obtaining two precious things: one is the precious venom, which is regarded as a treasure by alchemists and used to concoct the most advanced poisons; the other is the hard shell, which, when ground into fine powder, is an excellent hemostatic agent and can also be used as a raw material for unique ornaments.

Some outlaws known as "beast hunters" would risk their lives to capture live scorpion-tailed beasts and sell them across the ocean to top assassin organizations like the "Regretters" of Qarth. In the hands of these shadowy figures, the scorpion-tailed beast's stinger became the "ultimate weapon" for carrying out missions, ensuring their targets would die in an almost painless instant.

Ironically, the powder made from the shell of that deadly creature was very popular among another group of people—the noblewomen of Qarth regarded it as a precious "beauty elixir," which was said to be able to magically "shrink pores, brighten skin tone," and give the skin a youthful glow.

At this moment, these small creatures, embodying both death and beauty, were restless in Euron's cage.

Some sailors who had not yet rested gasped in shock upon seeing this scene and instinctively took a few steps back.

Euron paid no attention, casually placing the cage on the deck beside him, his gaze sweeping over these deadly "little things."

A slight smile appeared on his lips.

Euron thought of Oberyn Martell, the "Red Viper," far away in Westeros. The Dornish prince had always had a deep interest in these strange poisons from the edge of the world, especially the venom of the manticore—a mixture that could be concocted to kill in extreme pain and hallucination, which was Oberyn's favorite "treasure" to be applied to the tip of his spear.

Euron looked at the agitated creature in the cage and muttered to himself, "Perfect, the venom from these little things should last you a while."

"This gift from the ends of the earth, with its deadly allure, will surely be to the liking of that Prince of Dorne."