Black Sail
Chapter 257: CCLVII. Advent

Chapter 257: CCLVII. Advent

The Beima Duchy Maritime Bureau, the Far East Islands Western Commerce Alliance, and the Cross Alliance had all pooled together data from their archives.

Over the past ten years,

the percentage of merchant ships that had disappeared in the East Sea Domain reached seven percent of the total.

The percentage of lost passenger ships had reached five percent of the total.

Pirate ships normally do not sail with the Jolly Roger flag raised; it is only hoisted when nearing the target, as a warning. If one surrenders without resistance, aside from the loss of property, nothing else happens—it’s best not to engage in a fight if one can simply take money instead.

It’s only under these circumstances that the bloody and terrifying flags are raised. Everyone on board is prepared to kill without blinking, so think carefully before acting.

Lowering the merchant ship’s flag signifies submission, and from there, everything tends to proceed in a better direction.

This rule was mentioned in the Pirate Bill enacted 110 years ago as a golden principle, a code of conduct for all pirates, aimed at sustainable, long-term development—after all, pirates are also made of flesh.

Pirates who violate this rule and continue to kill even after the other party has surrendered are considered enemies of piracy and will incite more unnecessary resistance, endangering the interests of their peers. There are always worse villains to deal with such breaches.

Occurrences like getting lost en route, hitting reefs or encountering weather disasters can be disregarded.

When adding ships that disappear after paying a ransom or were raided by pirates of the east, merchant ships account for nineteen percent and passenger ships for eleven percent of their respective total numbers.

Considering the factors of victories in sea battles and pirate defeats, the chances of encountering pirates can be considered quite high, tantamount to gambling.

The East Sea Domain has become a colossal chopping block, dominated by desperadoes. Despite this, merchant ships cannot cease their operations; they come for profit and for trade.

Bloodshed, treasure, and spreading panic can’t be contained.

The influence of the Beima Duchy Royal Court has waned, with lords carving out their domains, and the navy, stretched thin, only managing to control the coastal sea areas. Nevertheless, there have still been too many sailors injured or killed, wives turned into widows, and many who have become prostitutes.

Countless resentful spirits have fallen under the scimitar.

Including merchants, guards, common folk, and even pirates who killed each other.

A large number of shipwrecked sailors have become pirates; people from all over with nowhere to turn also come here, fermenting cold-bloodedness, spreading a gloomy restlessness that gradually turns this place into a corner of the world that instills terror.

Spanning over ten years of blood and tears, death, the dark and terrifying originator of the sea’s horrifying killing formations, is the East Sea King.

His footsteps were heavy, step by step, and as he descended, the raucous banquet hall gradually fell silent.

Everyone wanted to see Doringger’s true face, and they got their wish.

Liszt looked somber.

Even after all these years involved with the Triad Gang, this was the first time he had felt this way; this person had an imposing aura.

Doringger was descending the Y-shaped staircase, a tall figure with grey-white hair reaching halfway down his back, draped in a black fur cloak that nearly swept the floor, his entire suit white, including the boots. The only splash of color was the red silk scarf at his chest, folded into a rose-like shape.

However, contrary to expectations, though there were wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, he was in his prime, quite the formidable presence, smiling cordially at all the guests, his face showing no sign of malice and feeling quite benevolent, like a loyal elder.

Yet those with sharp intuition could feel not the bristling of hair in the face of a wild beast but a deeper, unsettling chill.

He did not need a walking stick.

A stunningly beautiful young woman in a bright red dress was assisting him, even though he did not need the support.

The room was dead silent. Before Doringger stepped off the last stair, a knight clad in airtight black Heavy Armor that stood two and a half meters tall and a Magician with a brooding face covered in stitched scars were already standing at the bottom, waiting respectfully.

A few former champion pirate Captains that he had annexed were also waiting on that side.

The other servants and maids were also bowing in salute.

Seemingly driven by the ambiance, representatives of smaller companies removed their hats in respect, and those standing closer greeted him.

Doringger responded nonchalantly, nodding to each in turn.

"The arrival bodes ill."

Liszt wasn’t sure if there would be any point to tonight’s events.

"You’re the one who’s come."

Shadi glanced at Liszt, damned unlucky that they both chose to wear all white—how thrilling it would be to sing an opposing duet shortly; he too was nervous about whether Liszt was about to give Doringger a slap in the face and upstage him.

"Have you shown the distinguished guests those novel objects?"

Doringger, with a hoarse tone, asked the Iron Soul’s First Officer, although the Captain was dead, he was now the leading figure.

"They have been introduced, but we still need to wait for the professionals."

The current Iron Soul Captain respectfully looked at the man with scars from stitches all over his face—this was the real expert.

Fen whispered to Liszt that the tall, thin man who resembled a sewn-together corpse was Mo’er, not some wild Jianghu Mage, but a former visiting professor at the Gureg Royal Academy.

Liszt’s expression grew more solemn; now it seemed that Doringger’s dogs were indeed numerous.

"Is that so... It’s an honor for our humble abode to be graced by such esteemed friends who have come from afar, a modest token of my appreciation, please do not regard it as impolite."

The failures of people come in countless varieties.

Successful people, however, display a certain uniformity.

Doringger’s approach was to first intimidate you with a show of might, to gauge your strength.

Liszt felt sour, as if he had eaten a lemon; "Uncle me," he thought, "I detest people who compare themselves with others the most."

According to the guest list, beautifully prepared gift bags had been prepared for everyone; Brenda, representing Reggae Defense, naturally received one and opened it to look inside.

Qi Li gasped in astonishment; was Doringger’s money simply swept in by the wind? The favor was a famous East Sea product, a rainbow-colored coral with significant collectible value—worth at least twenty to thirty Golden Dragons.

With quite a number of guests, his generosity was indeed on a grand scale.

Representatives from various large companies—who were all good-looking men and women—were amazed by the gifts; at least they had earned back their travel expenses, though whether the time spent was worth it would depend on what Doringger had to say.

As the banquet moved into the Second Stage, the orchestra’s music became softer, not to disturb the conversations.

"Iron Soul Group..." Doringger did not say the word "pirate," "has discovered a New Continent, and this former professor from the Gureg Royal Academy is well-versed in history, the most authoritative on the subject. The place is no mere wasteland; it bears the signs of civilization."

Doringger patted Mo’er on the shoulder, asking him to present a PowerPoint to all the distinguished guests, enticing them to make investments.

Mo’er coughed twice, yet to speak.

Liszt already began to stir trouble.

"Why do I remember the Captain of the Iron Soul Pirate Group being someone else? Has there been a change?"

Liszt’s voice was very loud; his shout resounded through the high society gathering, drawing the looks and side glances of the surrounding guests. Was the man from Reggae Defense drunk on fake wine, making a scene right at the castle entrance?

Doringger kept silent, letting someone else respond.

"Oh, he wanted to monopolize the discovery and was voted out by the crew. He’s returned home in glory and hung up his spurs."

The current Iron Soul Captain responded calmly; the voice seemed familiar, reminiscent of the leader from that anti-smuggling campaign years ago.

"I see," Liszt scratched the back of his head and then, with a shattering revelation, added, "Reggae Defense is very much looking forward to working with Lord Dor, but many pirates on the island are also rushing to make deals, and I’m not sure if we should sell to them. If we were to transform it into an outpost for the New Continent, without your approval, those pirates might find themselves out of a job. We need to identify our specific client; we can’t sell to both sides and break the rules of our trade. Of course, as a major client, I would like to know your stance regarding those outside; if you could easily suppress them, then we would certainly invest."

The arms companies were fiercely competitive; when you climb up the ranks, reputation matters. It was not Liszt’s company, so he spoke freely.

All those present were intelligent, eagerly anticipating a response. Although the loud voice was brusque, it hit the nail on the head—this was the core conflict. Doringger had to provide a clear position on whether he intended a full transformation before they could confidently invest.

Taylor, too, flashed his eyes; he recognized Liszt from Tani’s actions and the unmistakable voice of that damned caveman. It was unmistakably Liszt, and Taylor too was eager to know the answer.