Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 444 Check-in - Yaxia

Euron's gaze swept indifferently over the two guards who stood like statues—the arcane glow flowing on the mage's robes and the poisoned blades faintly visible in the shadows—without stirring the slightest ripple in his eyes. Power was, for him, as commonplace as breathing.

The gaunt shopkeeper was a shrewd man. Seeing the tense atmosphere, he hurriedly stepped forward, his thin face showing an even more humble and fearful expression. His voice was somewhat embarrassed: "Since Lord of the Sea Beasts has made up his mind, this old man is willing to do his best to assist you, to discuss with the guests, or to invite them out so that you can explain to them personally."

He swallowed hard, his cloudy eyes darting around as he carefully considered his words, trying to find a delicate balance between irresistible power and potential conflict.

"But sir, the guests here are, after all—"

"You don't need to worry about what happens next." You Lun interrupted him calmly, his voice not loud, but like a cold black stone thrown into stagnant water, instantly silencing all unspoken words and restless thoughts. "The rest is my business."

He took a step forward, and the aura surrounding the two guards instantly became even more dangerous and concentrated.

Euron didn't look at them; his gaze seemed to pierce through the thick black stone walls, landing on those who needed to be "persuaded."

On the guests.

Euron's "persuasion" did not go smoothly.

Although most guests, after feeling the invisible pressure or seeing the dark mass of Iron Warriors, wisely packed their bags, some still wanted to stay and were unwilling to make room.

A scarred mercenary from Juggsnae flung open the door, his massive frame almost blocking the entire doorway, three different types of scimitars hanging at his waist. "Get out of my way!" he roared in broken Common, spittle nearly flying into Euron's face. "I paid three months' rent! Even the gods can't get in—"

His words came to an abrupt end.

Euron didn't make a move, but Baron, who had long been impatient, unleashed a chilling arc of light from his giant axe. The mercenary's head rolled to the ground with a look of astonishment on his face, and the headless body stood frozen in place for a moment before collapsing heavily.

In another room, a sorcerer adorned with elaborate silver ornaments erected a crackling lightning barrier at the doorway. He shrieked through the energy barrier, "Ignorant pirate! Do you know who I am—"

Euron simply extended a finger, and a violent bolt of lightning coiled around his fingertip. His own overwhelming aura caused the lightning, powerful enough to incinerate an ordinary person, to wrap around him like a docile pet before silently vanishing. To the wizard's disbelief, Euron grabbed his neck and threw him out the window. His screams faded into the shadows of the street below.

Upon landing, it turned into a pile of charcoal.

There was also an old man who claimed to be a prince of a lost continent, clinging tightly to the door frame, weeping as he recounted his family's glory and the long history of his life in this place.

Euron listened patiently to him finish speaking, then nodded to the Iron People beside him.

"Help him move it."

Two burly soldiers stepped forward and unceremoniously lifted the old man up, along with his tattered belongings, and said, "Please."

We arrived on the street.

Persuasion is indeed not an easy task.

When words lose their power, Euron's twin swords become his only language.

A cold glint flashed across the black stone streets, like lightning tearing through the shadows. Those who had relied on their strength or magic to resist fell to the blade before their pride had fully faded.

When the price of refusal and rudeness becomes so direct and severe, most people's "unwillingness" and "self-perception of strength" crumble rapidly in the face of true power. The breath of life drains away as quickly as a punctured water sac, and chilling scenes unfold.

The splattered warm blood left no crimson trace on the street, not even staining the glossy black stone surface.

The moment the blood drop touched the stone, the black, seemingly alive surface of the brick rippled almost imperceptibly, like parched sand receiving a timely rain.

The blood was swallowed.

It wasn't flowing, nor seeping, but rather being instantly pulled and absorbed by some invisible force, disappearing without a trace. In the blink of an eye, there wasn't a single trace of blood left beside the fallen corpse, only the cold, blood-soaked black stone that appeared even more profound.

The entire street was eerily quiet, save for the heavy breathing of the Ironmen and countless eyes peering at them from the shadows.

After more than a dozen men who relied on their strength or magic turned into cold corpses, all the resentment, anger, and protest in the three interconnected inns vanished or were hidden beneath their downcast eyes.

Without another word, the remaining guests quickly packed their precious or quirky belongings and silently left the residence that had changed hands in an instant.

Euron simply waved his hand casually, and the Ironborn silently stepped forward, lifted the still-warm corpses, and walked towards the Black River, which flowed with inky black water, not far away.

The body was thrown into the river, causing very little splash.

Beneath the surface of the river, undercurrents surged, and countless twisted, menacing shadows sprang out of the abyss.

They were monstrous fish with terrifying appearances, skin as pale as dead flesh, eyes reduced to mere black dots, and jaws filled with layers of sharp teeth capable of tearing through steel. They were tearing and fighting frantically, their flesh and blood being rapidly stripped away and devoured in the murky black water.

In the blink of an eye, the river returned to an eerie calm, as if nothing had ever happened. Only a few bubbles rose from the depths, burst, and carried away the last trace of its existence.

Euron turned to face the Ironborn gathered in the inn's courtyard. His deep voice echoed between the black stone walls, clearly reaching everyone's ears: "Listen," his gaze swept over the weathered faces, "rooms, two or three people per room. Those staying together must come and go together." He deliberately slowed his pace, making sure every word was heard, "whether going out for drinks, to have fun, or even to relieve yourself, no one may act alone."

Euron continued, "If you want to leave the inn, you should form groups of at least four and look out for each other. If you need money, go to your respective leaders to withdraw your Golden Dragons."

"Keep your eyes peeled here. If you get scammed, robbed, or even lose your life for no reason—" Euron said coldly, "This city is too big for us to look after everyone. If anyone goes missing or doesn't return on time, we can't send anyone to look for them! Every life is your own, don't blame me for not warning you today!"

"Now, go find your rooms and settle down. Remember my words: in this city, the price of foolishness is death."

""

The ironworkers responded enthusiastically, and the crowd began to disperse in an orderly fashion to find lodging.

Euron's warning was like a cold chain, firmly binding their actions in this mysterious city.