Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Chapter 112 The Gray Hemp Pirates Strike Again, Enraging Vol

Xilun finished his breathing exercises for the day and was preparing to go downstairs for dinner.

"kindness?"

In his mailbox, Xilun saw the letter written to him once again.

This is the second letter from the dock.

Xilun picked up the letter, and when he saw its contents, his previously calm eyes suddenly narrowed, and he couldn't help but take a second look.

The message in the letter was brief, yet it reeked of bloodshed: the Grey Hemp Pirates had reappeared.

Siren quickly calculated the time in his mind. He remembered Mark mentioning that the Grey Hemp Pirates operated according to strict cyclical patterns to avoid a complete crackdown by the authorities. The last time they raided seemed to have been several months ago.

"It seems that these wolves lurking in the shadows have calculated the moment when the heat has died down and are once again swarming out to plunder," Xilun muttered to himself, crumpling the letter into a ball.

He immediately put on his trench coat, tucked the large-caliber pepper pistol into his waistband, pushed open the door of the hotel, and strode towards White Crow Wharf.

By the time Xilun arrived at White Raven Wharf, it was already completely dark.

A somber and melancholic atmosphere permeated the dock. The usually bustling porters and vendors were nowhere to be seen, replaced by a group of sailors gathered on the shore, whispering among themselves.

With the help of the baptized people's powerful eyesight, Youlun squeezed through the gaps in the crowd and quickly found the place where they were going to land.

The water there was covered with large amounts of broken planks and torn fishing nets.

A once familiar ship was now mostly submerged in the dark, grey river, with only its broken mast and half of the ship stubbornly sticking out of the water.

That was Mark's fishing boat, the medium-sized fishing boat that once carried the memories of the extraordinary journey through Xilun.

Xilun took a deep breath of the sea breeze, which carried the acrid smell of gunpowder and blood, and slowly pushed through the crowd toward the shore.

On the muddy and flooded bank, Mark sat on a wooden box like a soulless sculpture.

He was soaked to the bone, his hair plastered messily to his forehead, and his weathered face was as pale as paper, filled with bewilderment and despair.

He stared intently at the half-sinking fishing boat on the water, his eyes so dry that not a single tear fell.

Xilun walked over to him, and without any further pleasantries, sat down beside him on the cold stone steps.

"Are you alright?" Siren's voice was soft, yet it reached Mark's ears clearly in the noisy dock.

Mark felt as if he had been pricked by a needle, and his body trembled slightly.

He turned his head, looked at Xilun blankly, and shook his head in a daze.

His lips trembled for a long time, and his throat made a hoarse sound like a broken bellows.

"The ship—is gone."

Those three simple words seemed to drain all the strength from his body.

For an old sailor who has spent most of his life making a living on the water, the boat is his life, his home, and his only hope to support his crew.

Xilun let out a sigh of relief, his gaze sweeping over the group of crew members who had narrowly escaped. Several familiar faces were missing.

"At least people are still alive. As long as they're alive, there will always be a ship," Xilun tried to say, even though he knew such words were powerless in the face of cruel reality.

Upon hearing this, Mark lowered his head in anguish, burying his hands in his wet hair, his voice filled with suppressed sobs.

"Kean is dead."

Upon hearing the name, Xilun immediately pictured a young man with flaxen curly hair, bright and energetic eyes.

Keen was a skilled harpooner on the ship and often pestered Siron with questions about his experiences in the outside world.

He's only in his early twenties, with a long and promising future ahead of him.

Mark looked up, his eyes filled with regret and fear, and began to recount the tragedy that had occurred at sea to Siron in fits and starts.

"At dusk, we were preparing to haul in our nets and head back when suddenly a wide-hulled black ship flying a gray hemp rope flag emerged from the thick fog. They were incredibly fast, and they immediately brandished two brass cannons."

Mark's body trembled. "I know the rules: once you're forced to stop by pirates, you absolutely cannot resist. I immediately ordered the sails to be lowered and surrendered. Otherwise, they really would have opened fire on our wooden fishing boat. A volley of fire would have turned us all into minced meat in the sea."

"After the pirates boarded the ship, they drove us all to a corner of the deck. The scarred captain demanded that we hand over all the cargo in the hold, as well as all the money we had on us."

At this point, Mark slammed his fist on the stone steps, blood trickling down his knuckles. "That idiot Keane—he was hiding in a blind spot in the building. He thought he'd got his chance, and he actually raised that heavy harpoon he used against the aliens and pulled the trigger on that pirate captain's back! He was trying to capture the pirate captain by surprise and force them to retreat."

Xilun's eyes turned extremely cold; he had already guessed the outcome.

"It's a pity, it was too hasty, really too hasty."

Mark's tears finally streamed down his face, mingling with the seawater that dripped onto the ground. "That Gray Hemp pirate captain was an extremely experienced Tier 1 Extraordinary. He didn't even turn around; a layer of gray, keratinous hard shell suddenly bulged out from under the back of his clothes."

The harpoon, capable of piercing a large fish's skull, struck his back but didn't even break the skin; it bounced off effortlessly. It was a sneak attack he easily deflected—"

"And then?" Xilun suppressed the murderous intent in his heart.

"Then—the captain turned around and, as if crushing an ant, simply waved his hand, an invisible sharpness emanating from the edge of his palm, and severed Keane's neck from three meters away."

Blood spurted two meters high—the pirates had stolen all the money and goods, and before leaving, they had even drilled two large holes in the bottom of our ship's hold.

Mark covered his face, heartbroken.

Xiren slowly stood up, took a deep breath, compressed the cold air in his lungs, and then slowly exhaled.

He patted Mark on the shoulder, said nothing more to comfort him, and turned to walk toward the Interior Building at White Crow Wharf.

He knew that blood debts could only be repaid with blood.

The room of Lord Wall was filled with smoke, and the atmosphere was extremely oppressive.

When Xilun pushed open the door and went inside, there were already several people sitting inside.

Besides Wall, who sat in the main seat with a face so gloomy it could drip water, Xiren also saw several familiar figures, including the smooth-talking escort Ceci.

Woll's sharp selfie swept over the arriving crowd, and he slammed his pipe hard on the corner of the table.

"Since their inception, the Grey Hemp Pirates have always acted cautiously, mostly hijacking passing caravans of wealthy merchants. However, in the past year, they have gone mad, repeatedly attacking ships belonging to our Brotherhood along the shipping lanes. Today, Mark's fishing boat was sunk again, and people died."

Wall's voice was filled with suppressed, terrifying rage, and the second-tier power within him made the air pressure in the entire room feel heavy.

"The guild leader is extremely dissatisfied and has given us a direct order to wipe out this group of Grey Hemp Pirates. You are all the most experienced escorts and captains on the docks, so please share your thoughts."

The room fell into a deathly silence.

A moment later, the person sitting at the very front broke the silence.

The man looked somewhat old, with graying temples and calluses on his fingers.

His name is Cook, and he is the most senior and oldest surviving guardian of White Crow Wharf.

Cook shook his head first, his cloudy eyes revealing a clear pessimism: "Lord Wall, this matter absolutely cannot be rushed."

The Grey Hemp pirates were a pack of wolves at sea. They appeared and disappeared without a trace, their ships were fast and their cannons were powerful, and they always fought and ran, making it impossible to catch them.

He paused, then countered, "Are we supposed to send out all of the Brotherhood's armed ships to patrol and search aimlessly on the vast ocean every day? If we were to make such a large-scale operation, the pirates' spies on shore would probably have already gotten wind of it. They could retreat into the crevices of the islands and hide for months, and then they certainly wouldn't come out. We can't afford to waste that kind of financial and human resources."

Wall pondered for a moment, his brow furrowed as he stared at the nautical chart. "Since a search isn't working, how about a direct assault? Let's go straight to their stronghold."

Cook's opinions were highly valued within the Brotherhood because he had experienced too many raids on pirates.

At this moment, he shook his head firmly once again.

"No, absolutely not. My lord, you may have forgotten just how hellish the place where the Grey Hemp Pirates are based is."

Cook stood up, walked to the nautical chart, and pointed his rough finger at a sea area marked with a red skull on the edge of the chart.

"That small island was named the Siren's Anvil by navigators throughout the ages." The terrain there was not something that could be conquered simply by having a large number of people and strong ships.

First, the island is surrounded by a complex network of reefs that move with the tides for ten nautical miles.

To get in, the only channel was extremely narrow and had a strange "S" shape. Even a slight deviation from the course would cause the ship's hull to be torn apart by hidden reefs.

Cook's voice echoed in the room, making everyone's hearts sink.

"Not only that, the pirates' main ships were moored at the end of that S-shaped channel."

If our fleet were to sail in a long, single file along this only safe passage, we'd be sitting ducks, inevitably subjected to a barrage of pirate cannon fire for some time. Even the sturdiest ships couldn't withstand that.

Xilun stood at the back, listening quietly, his eyes flickering slightly.

Cook sighed and continued to reveal even more devastating information: "This is only what's on the surface. Two meters underwater, according to those who have managed to escape before, the area has been covered with extremely tough anti-submarine nets and heavy iron chains with barbs."

Any attempt to submerge underwater and cause destruction will be shredded into mincemeat by these iron nets.

"Besides that, there's the most fatal point." Cook looked around at everyone, "The place where the Siren's Anvil is located has extremely rare and bizarre weather. The island is close to a geothermal fissure, which causes the interior of the island to be baked by high temperatures all year round, while the surrounding seawater is extremely cold and bone-chilling."

The area is perpetually shrouded in a thick, toxic fog due to the alternating hot and cold temperatures. The climate is extremely harsh.

"If our fleet relies on its large number of men to forcibly occupy the outer perimeter and attack, in this environment of alternating hot and cold and swirling poisonous fog, if we fail to take it down in a few days, the brothers on board may suffer from widespread lung disease or malaria due to the climate."

It will collapse on its own then.

Cook's detailed analysis completely dismantled the Siren's Anvil's defensive system, leaving everyone present utterly disheartened. It was practically an impregnable natural fortress.

Ceci, who had been silent until now, made a wry smile and a very helpless joke in an attempt to ease the oppressive atmosphere.

"According to Old Man Cook, unless we can find a special force that's like a ghost. This force can dive to a depth of twenty meters, cross those complex reefs over ten nautical miles without being able to breathe even once in between; and adapt to the alternating hot and cold foggy climate, silently sneaking onto the island from the inside to cut off the pirates' artillery positions. We can break them down from within."

Sisi shrugged. "Otherwise, if we launch a head-on attack from the outside, unless our Brotherhood can acquire ironclad warships of the naval class to withstand artillery bombardment, I can't think of any chance of winning."

Everyone remained silent. The two conditions that Ceci mentioned were simply impossible to meet in reality.

Wall frowned, staring down at the chart, lost in thought for a long time. The pipe in his hand had gone out.

"Since this is an order from above, we cannot give up easily just because it's difficult." Wall's voice became firm again, carrying an unquestionable authority.

"Based on the current analysis, it is indeed very troublesome, almost a dead end. However, Cook, the information you just mentioned about the Seren Anvil is from many years ago. The actual situation may not be entirely like that."

A glimmer of hope and determination flashed in Wall's eyes. "Perhaps the pirates have been at peace for so long that they might not really take strict precautions; or perhaps the anti-submarine nets and chains underwater have been soaking in seawater for years, and they have forgotten to replace them, so they have long been corroded and broken by the seawater."

It would be inappropriate for us to go back and report to the fraternity leader that we couldn't fight without even taking a look or trying. The fraternity would lose face.

He slammed his hand on the table and made a decision.

"It's settled then. This time, I will personally lead the expedition out to sea to investigate the true nature of this Siren's Anvil."

Then, Wall's hawk-like eyes swept over everyone in the room, and he quickly gave instructions.

"The captains from the merchant guilds can go back and wait for news; you're done today. The three escorts, Cook, Cecily, and Celen, you three come with me. Prepare to board immediately."

Xilun nodded silently and followed at the back of the group out of the house.

He clenched his fists gently in his pockets, feeling the powerful energy within his body, the energy of a giant whale from the deep sea.

The condition that Ceci spoke of, which could create miracles underwater like a ghost, kept swirling in his mind.

Xilun followed at the back of the group, stepping onto a large, heavily armed merchant ship with a very deep draft via a swaying gangplank.

The ship was about the same size as the cargo ship he had ridden on during his first escort mission, and much larger and sturdier than Mark's medium-sized fishing boat that had been sunk.

However, compared to the true essence of the Brotherhood, it still seems somewhat inadequate. For example, it is much smaller than the legendary "Black Pearl" equipped with steam armor.

Unfortunately, as Cecily said, even if the Black Pearl were brought over, it would be impossible for it to withstand the concentrated bombardment of pirates from both sides of the narrow S-shaped channel of the Siren's Anvil for a long time without sinking.

The bow cleaved through the waves of the Greywater River, heading towards the unknown and dangerous waters of the open sea.