Black Sail
Chapter 111: CXI. StarCraft

Chapter 111: CXI. StarCraft

The next day was fast approaching noon.

When Liszt returned to the Black Sail Inn, the dark elf bartender’s eyelid twitched.

"Don’t die here, okay?"

The bartender was confused.

Because Liszt had utterly disappointed Dreya with another two rounds, his lips were now completely colorless.

He sighed in relief, grateful that he had become a pirate with a physique so robust it could explode, reflecting that if he were still studying at school, he might not have made it back here alive today.

"Thank you very much. After all, I’m the owner of this inn. Could you not say something auspicious to your boss?"

But Liszt still held it together and walked up to the bar to sit down, not daring to drink strong liquor yet, opting for a beer to rejuvenate.

"Ah? I always thought Swan was the manager of this inn."

The bartender was speechless.

Liszt nearly spat out his drink.

"You’ve been working here for over a year, right?"

Liszt gave in, couldn’t she tell who the boss was?

"Uh... Well, since Swan handles the accounts, I know you’re the Captain, but it seems like Swan is the one running the place."

The bartender spoke the blunt truth.

Moreover, subconsciously, she always thought of Swan as the boss—she personally liked him best. As an outstanding student with good looks and wealth, who could resist such a catch? It’s just a pity he seemed impotent, having no interest in women at all.

"Damn."

Liszt was now hit by both a physical and mental critical strike.

"Someone help! The Captain’s dying! Start preparing for a new election!"

After wandering around for several days, Rein finally returned, and upon seeing Liszt’s condition, guessed that he might be done for.

"I think we should try to save him."

Even the honest Claude thought he looked close to being buried.

"Where’s Mika?"

Swan knew Fen would never let Liszt die. Considering the internal chaos and external threats, initiating another election, with all the fundraising, property handovers, and myriad of problems that would ensue, it would all certainly explode.

Five days later.

Black Sail Inn, second floor.

Liszt was back to full health, playing with a flintlock gun, exuding the aura of a Captain.

"Damn it, I told you so, New Heavenly Port, here it comes, right?"

Liszt smoked vigorously, wearing the silver necklace gifted by Dreya, with everything proceeding just as planned.

He and the Undead Pirates set an example, and with others following suit, within just five days, one-third of the merchants in Heaven Port had changed hands.

The prices had been driven down.

There were even some unexpected gains—the stores on the island favored by ’Gods’, typically protected by a single ’God’ without charging protection money, now saw their prices slashed. The merchants realized that relying on ’Gods’ was unstable, so with lower prices here, they preferred to go with the flow and pay some token amount.

As for the remaining two-thirds, leaders of other forces lowered their prices temporarily to prevent their territories from being rapidly swallowed up.

After all, the time for payment hadn’t arrived yet, and how much would be collected was ultimately up to them, right?

What these leaders failed to understand was why their territories continued to be eroded at a terrifying pace, even after they had lowered their prices.

The importance of reputation was now evident.

Other lawless and dirty pirates tended to demand whatever they could from these unprotected refugees who were on the run, exploiting them to the fullest.

Not all refugees had the potential to be desperadoes; many were wrongfully accused, scapegoated, or exiled for minor thefts. They were used to a normal life and couldn’t handle a life on the knife’s edge.

Who would come to this godforsaken place if they had a decent life to live?

All pirates were ruthlessly extorted; after all, there was nowhere to run. The only thing was that blood and organs couldn’t fetch a price here; otherwise, inhuman acts could probably have been committed.

Whereas Liszt made his mark as a philanthropist, scrupulously avoiding any offense. He left his account number for "goodwill money," whether much or little it was all fate. For those too poor to lift the lid off their pots, he’d waive their fees entirely, even giving them a loss of ten copper coins to buy rice.

If trouble arose, he was genuinely helpful. A man with a disfigured face liked to bring along a drunkard to fight for justice. Although his methods were akin to testing a blade by killing, with death coming in peculiar ways, it was still fighting for justice.

I plunder and slaughter without respect for the gods, yet everyone knows that I am a good person.

The hero in the style of Heaven made his entrance.

Even if the prices were all the same, no one picked on you, everyone sought protection from the Black Sail. Moreover, Qi Li’s reputation was not much different; together they formed a reliable and dominating presence.

The remaining two-thirds were still rapidly being annexed.

By now, the Black Sail and the Undying controlled one-third of the territory. With the additional unexpected profits, their monthly net revenue was genuinely terrifying, equivalent to a hundred Golden Dragons.

Of course, Liszt had his sights set higher; one day he would completely eradicate this price war, turning it into a genuine public security management fee.

Most importantly, Liszt’s wish had come true; he had received an invitation from one of the big shots to sit down in his estate that evening.

And the matter under discussion was obvious, no need to think about it; it must be an order from Boss or a decision reached after negotiations among the three giants, to take care of Liszt.

Because with Liszt’s maneuvers, it’s possible that a portion of the pirates on the island might defect to other seas—who would take the responsibility for that?

After all, dealing with stolen goods was the most lucrative business of Heaven Port.

Fen was fraught with anxiety.

He understood that this family banquet would have far-reaching effects. If Liszt could persuade that big shot, then all plans would proceed as scheduled, but if he couldn’t...

They would have to change tactics, but no good ideas came to mind immediately.

The so-called power game seemed complex, but in reality, it was just about continually increasing the probability of success in the betting game, accumulating chips until the cost of making a mistake was lowered, and only then could one afford to sit at the table.

It’s like playing poker; how do you play with a hand of ten million versus a hand of only five hundred? You wouldn’t dare to call. You’d just be drained dry before you could exert any strength.

If you can’t handle the stock market, don’t enter it—"selling your family’s fortune," as the saying goes.

Acquiring and transferring a company is not the same concept as controlling multiple companies at the peak of competition. Playing StarCraft without a mouse, just staring at the screen—what’s the point?

Only with ten thousand Golden Dragons do you have the credentials to challenge Boss.

And only after challenging Boss do you have the chance to confront Beima Duchy.

After confronting Beima Duchy, you’re officially in the game. East Shore is actually just that—insignificant.

Only when you’ve accumulated a terrifying amount of chips can you... go all in against Emperor.

"Who’s going?"

Wolman didn’t really care; he was still with his old teammates, gambling and playing cards with Morison, Shadi, and Mika.

"I am the Heavenly Emperor; I shall suppress all enemies."

For Liszt, it was enough to go by himself. The big shot was cultured; could he kill the man who laid golden eggs for him?

In these years.

The Golden Dragons Liszt had to reluctantly split, sixty-forty, must be counted by the thousands. If not four or five thousand, then at least two or three thousand.

If he died, who would supply for him?

That’s why pirates are considered the lowest on the disrespect chain, pitiful and helpless, rootlessly drifting at sea, fending off blades every day—too wretched.

"You should probably not go, I will go."

Fen knew what Liszt had done before; negotiations might not even start before things turned ugly.

"Huh... Why?"

Liszt was puzzled.

"Who doesn’t know you have an inappropriate relationship with his daughter?"

Fen was thoroughly impressed; he had put it rather euphemistically.

If it weren’t for the fact that Liszt could make money, he would have been skinned long ago.

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