I reign supreme in the Western fantasy world for eternity.

The sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy smell, swept across the deck, along with the warm scent emanating from the summer sun shining through the wooden planks.

Barol was squatting on the edge of the deck at the bow, holding a short-handled brush in his hand, idly brushing away the dried and blackened bloodstains on the wooden planks.

The stains had seeped into the wood grain, and after brushing for half an hour, there was no change, but he wasn't in a hurry.

What's the rush?

The ship's cargo hold was filled with spices, silks, and several boxes of silverware brought from a southbound merchant ship. Stewed dried beef was being prepared in the kitchen, and wine barrels were placed in the middle of the deck with their mouths wide open, so anyone who was thirsty could scoop a ladleful.

Barrol had been a pirate for over a decade and knew that such good days were rare.

A fully loaded merchant ship, an unsuspecting captain, and a group of sailors who couldn't even hold a knife steady—this was a windfall for these pirates.

When they rushed up, the men were still begging for mercy with their hands raised, shouting, "We are legitimate merchants" and "There is nothing of value on the ship."

The leader didn't even bother to listen to anything, killing them one by one with a single blow. The blood on the ship flowed through the drain holes for half an hour before it was clean.

Barrol was standing on the edge of the sterncastle when he watched as the dozen or so bodies were thrown into the sea one by one. Water splashed up and then fell back down, and the sea surface quickly returned to normal.

He remembered a young sailor being dragged to the side of the ship, still saying, "I have two children at home." The chief smiled and said, "Then you should go back sooner," before kicking him overboard.

You can only blame your own bad luck for having to pass right next to the pirate fleet.

Barol threw the brush into the bucket and straightened up to stretch his sore and numb knees.

He was about to scoop a few ladles of wine from the barrel in the middle of the deck to moisten his throat when he suddenly noticed out of the corner of his eye that the color of the sky was not quite right.

He raised his head.

The sky above was still that familiar light blue, with a few wisps of thin clouds leisurely stretching across the horizon.

But higher up, at the edge of that cloud, a dark, twisted mass was slowly expanding, spreading across the dome like dried blood.

It hovered silently, without making a sound or giving any warning.

Barol's hand froze in mid-air, the gourd slipped from his fingers and hit the deck with a dull thud.

An instinctive tremor shot from the end of my spine to the top of my head, like the instinctive helplessness humans feel when faced with a natural disaster.

He can't move.

"First Mate—!"

He turned abruptly, pushed off the deck with his feet, and stumbled toward the stern cabin, not even bothering to pick up the dagger he had used for many years.

His boots hit the edge of the barrel, and he fell forward, his elbow slamming heavily onto the deck. But he didn't even care about the pain; he struggled to his feet and kept running.

"big--!"

Before he could finish the second word, his voice trailed off.

The black mass flickered slightly as he spoke.

Barol's body was still in a forward-falling position, maintaining a forward-leaning balance.

His hand was already reaching towards the hatch, his fingertips just inches from the door panel, yet he remained motionless, like an insect frozen in amber.

He then turned into a charred black spot on the deck.

His flesh, bones, and clothes dried, carbonized, and collapsed into a curled-up black shadow in an instant, clinging to the deck like a branded shadow.

A few drops of wine, still falling, evaporated into white smoke the moment they came into contact with the air.

Dozens or even hundreds of pirate ships anchored on the sea began to show the same signs.

The black sphere slowly rotated in the sky, emitting deadly dark magic fluctuations, and the pirates who were busy on the sea, near or far, fell one after another.

Death spread rapidly in this sea area.

......

Ji Tian sensed the anomaly at sea halfway through the gathering.

He sat at the back of the stands, surrounded by pirates applauding the speech from the isolated reef; the atmosphere was lively.

The aura rose from the sea in the southeast, standing out conspicuously amidst the spiritual energy dissipating from Ji Tian.

Dark attribute forbidden spell.

Dark affinity is not common among races other than demons; it is usually a sign of single-attribute affinity. Since the talent ceiling for single-attribute affinity is usually not high, they are mostly trained as assassins.

But at this moment, this aura is forming at an astonishing speed, clearly indicating that the caster has used some kind of forbidden technique:

In exchange for a near-instantaneous release speed, some of the power of the forbidden spell is sacrificed.

For the pirates, there was no time to warn them, and no time to evacuate.

Most of the pirates who made it here were notorious, and sentencing them all to death would certainly mean some were wrongly convicted, but sentencing every other pirate to death would surely mean some escaped.

The attacker's style is concise and efficient, with almost no unnecessary actions, as if a meticulously calibrated machine is executing a pre-set program.

Ji Tian could sense that the spellcaster was a half-orc archmage, and without even thinking, he knew that it was one of Lone Reef's subordinates.

Was it this pirate king who did it? Is he really that ruthless to his own kind? Or is he trying to use this as a pledge of loyalty to become the seventh Sea King?

I never expected that this solitary reef with its thick eyebrows and large eyes would have such a powerful presence.

Ji Tian unconsciously began to re-evaluate this pirate king.

The room was filled with a cacophony of voices.

The reef was still reading out the specific terms of the alliance: rules for sharing intelligence, procedures for replenishing supplies for the wounded and sick, and countermeasures against the Seven Sea Lords' patrol routes and troop deployments.

Most of the pirates were still listening intently, and occasionally someone would stand up to raise a question, which the lone reef would answer one by one.

The people on this island have no idea what is happening on the other side of the sea.

As Ji Tian was calculating how many pirates Lonely Reef could swallow with this move, he suddenly sensed an extremely pure aura erupting from the depths of the open sea.

That power was ancient and profound, its status even comparable to that of a holy sword.

Ji Tian stood up almost as soon as he sensed it, but the pirates' attention was now on the isolated reef, and they assumed he was going to the toilet.

"I'm going out for a bit. Don't wander off, go back to the hotel and wait for me. If you encounter any danger, just open that book."

After saying that, he handed his special storage ring containing the Book of Industry to Ophelia, who was the strongest among them.

Before Lilith could ask "Where to?", Ji Tian's figure had already silently slipped into the shadows of the back row, hidden by the crowd in the stands, and turned to walk out of the venue.

Elena glanced briefly at Ophelia, who nodded slightly and gestured for them to retreat first.

The three didn't linger and quietly left from behind the stands amidst cheers.

Ophelia walked at the back, slowing her pace to make sure no one was watching before quickly catching up.

Not long after, they returned to their hotel room.

Ophelia first closed the door tightly, placed a divination talisman for warning on the windowsill, and then took out the book of industry that Ji Tian had left her from her storage ring and placed it on the table within easy reach.