Black Sail
Chapter 56: LVI. Ghost God

Chapter 56: LVI. Ghost God

On the main road from Lavender Town to the secret port.

The fighting was deafening.

Life here was merely a unit, all emotion erased.

Except...

Greed and madness.

A One-eyed Dragon pirate, with a hazy blue iris in his blind eye, looked cruel like a cold-blooded creature, thrust his scimitar into a Constitutional Soldier’s neck and twisted harshly, ripping the head off and tearing off the epaulet, securing two Golden Dragons.

A few seconds of life-or-death traded for nearly four years of a common sailor’s income.

Located inland of Aran, the Constitutional Soldiers, though elite, mostly handled gangsters within the Empire.

They had never encountered desperados from the coastal areas, those licking their blades and nearly insane.

Utter savageness—mimicking the Cannibal Tribe with cruel howls.

Officers Pyapan and Ox were in a tense battle, but it was clear they were gradually losing, with morale on the verge of collapse.

They must not lose!

Pyapan continued to resist, his Special Large Blade slashing wildly at Ox, each strike heavy enough to smash a cow into mincemeat.

Ox, calm and composed, blocked all, their weapons steaming up under the rain as they met with forceful strikes, about to turn red-hot.

At that moment, Pyapan’s focus was all on Ox.

The others dared not approach their battle, where a minor hit meant death, except one person saw an opportunity.

Rein treacherously swooped in from the shadows, clawing through Pyapan’s ankle and then snapping his Achilles tendon.

With Pyapan’s left foot completely limp and off-balance.

In an instant.

Life and death were determined.

Bang!

A fierce blow. Ox chopped off the Special Large Blade, leapt up, and grasped Pyapan’s weapon.

With a 300-pound Special Large Blade in his left hand and a 300-pound Special Large Sword in his right, like a god of death.

Pyapan’s face was ashen.

Ox took two steps forward and began...

Wielding both weapons frenziedly.

The blades were so swift they seemed as light as foam boards, the forceful winds blowing away all the raindrops within a twenty-meter radius; the sounds of slicing and crushing flesh and bones were incessant.

As Ox came to a stop.

The Imperial Arena, the monthly runner-up, became... scattered chunks of flesh falling everywhere, making a pool of mush.

By then, the battle was decided.

Twenty or so pirates from Black Sail had died, but after Ox chopped Pyapan down, the already low morale of the Constitutional Soldiers completely collapsed in less than a minute.

Wiped out by the pirates, not a single one left.

They began collecting the spoils of war—each ear from a Constitutional Soldier was worth a hundred silver coins, a pair for a Golden Dragon, and officers needed both head and epaulet.

"We two working together are just too fierce."

Rein, seeing that the main force on this road was wiped clean, popped the champagne early, just waiting for Liszt to come back; the rain might slow them down a bit, but not significantly. After heading out to sea, he would taste what it’s like to be with a Heroic Level adventurer.

Ox remained silent, his perennial poker face showing no joy. If not for the heavy rain, perhaps he would have died under those Leopard Men in such conditions.

"I wonder how Zahak is doing."

Seeing the situation settled, Ox surveyed the surrounding jungle, unaware of where Morison had gone, unable to provide support.

"Brother Sha... he couldn’t have died, could he?"

Although Rein spoke assuredly, he was slightly unsure. Morison might strike swiftly and powerfully, but he had never faced someone like Zahak, the disciple of the Sword King, Aran Admiral.

Ox remained silent, as Rein was prone to speak auspicious words.

Meanwhile.

On a clearing deep in the jungle.

The first second.

It had already begun.

As lightning struck.

Morison had disappeared.

His skill was beyond Zahak’s comprehension, completely out of the realm of what he knew.

Rather, the fact that he lasted so long under Morison was already an exceptionally rare feat.

Boots fitted with razor-sharp knives and daggers, less than a second to flash up a dozen meters high into the treetops, leaping through the air between branches.

Silver snakes descended, the Wing Blade swiftly moving.

Blades like free-flowing electric sparks poured down ferociously, lashing, twisting, entangling, penetrating, more sudden and violent than the torrential rain.

Zahak drew his sword and fiercely defended, slashing more than ten times in a second, also entering into a frenzied state, the sparks illuminating the surroundings like daylight.

"Too slow, too slow! How dare you step out being this slow!"

Morison continued to intensify the attack, just beginning, far from the end.

Sharp, fierce, tearing, piercing, like an infinite number of blades interweaving through a torturous hell chamber rising from the Netherworld.

Zahak’s reflexes and speed had reached their critical limits.

Morison could still be faster and more ferocious.

Crack—Zahak’s arm bore a drawn bloodstain, crack—a cut burst open on his leg, he had no time to meet such a savage onslaught.

Bang bang bang, several flying knives shot out, their power comparable to cannonballs exploding on the ground.

Zahak couldn’t dodge in time, and just the wind force of the flying knives sliced open the sleeve of his arm, and his flesh burst open with blood.

Seeing Morison slowly descend from the air.

"Die!"

Zahak’s palm touched the blade, cutting a bit of his own blood to imbue the Magic Blade, then with a surge of sword energy, he fiercely slashed above his head.

Branches shattered utterly, the sword wind broke every bush within dozens of meters.

Morison easily dodged the strike. The whip blade had already hooked onto another tree. Like a rotating blade, he spiraled down from the tree. In less than a second, he flew in an arc through the air to the ground, took two steps off the inertia to leap, not only the dagger but his whole body flashing like light, Zahak was already somewhat stunned by the speed, purely reacting instinctively with a sword to block.

He was immediately repelled a few meters, but Morison, like a ghost with the wind, extended the elbow joint Wing Blade, the dagger furiously slashing, waving the Wing Blade, pounding out and continuously shooting crossbow arrows.

An incredibly cunning and tricky killing move, each attack directly targeted vital points, producing dozens of strikes each moment.

Like a terrifying creature evolved solely for slaughter.

A sword—even Aran Admiral couldn’t withstand it.

Crack, crack, crack...

Zahak only blocked the fatal attacks, but over a dozen cuts burst open on his body, blood pouring out, his shoulder hit by a crossbow arrow.

Morison pulled back the whip blade, blasting the surrounding two large trees, incredibly tricky in trajectory, collapsing in a cross formation towards the spot where both men were fighting.

Zahak was thoroughly entangled by Morison, his movement restricted.

The large trees were about to smash both of them.

Morison’s bizarre skills had him climbing up beside the collapsing tree, leaping into the air.

Zahak also wanted to break free.

But Morison held nothing back, strapping on the remaining sixteen Flying Knives, directly firing two rounds to lock down Zahak’s movements.

The large tree smashed directly towards Zahak.

His physical strength was nearly exhausted, yet he managed to split the tree in half with a slash.

But Morison was already in front of him.

He couldn’t dodge.

Crack!

While the Fine-blade Short Sword didn’t take his life, it pierced Zahak’s shoulder, dragging him over ten meters on the ground, nailing him to a tree.

Morison whipped once, disarming him, and the eerie red blade, along with the scabbard, was pulled back by the whip, held in his hand.

Zahak.

Defeated.

He slumped, nailed to the tree, his throat sweet, vomiting a mouthful of fresh blood.

The heavy rain poured down.

Morison was unscathed.

"With skills like yours, why become a pirate? Serving the Emperor, even entering the Imperial Knight Order, would be more than enough."

Zahak couldn’t comprehend; this was a massive defeat, not unjust. He’d need to reach his teacher’s level to fight him.

Morison sneered twice.

"Being an officer in Aran, that’s asking for death."

Morison casually said.

"Make your move."

Zahak stared coldly at Morison, not the least bit afraid of death, since returning to Aran he’d be merely a broken man.

"As you wish."

Morison was keen to test the new weapon, Wolman’s cabin had great insights, he must keep up with the times, rotating the mechanism on his arm, displaying five dark small cannon mouths.

Without hesitation, he aimed at Zahak’s head and triggered the device.

However...

Nothing happened.

Perhaps due to the rainwater soaking it, Morison shook off the water, aimed at Zahak’s head again, and it was still a misfire.

Morison then aimed to the side.

Bang!

Five bullets shot out successfully, making small holes in a tree.

But Morison’s killing intent was set.

He swung the red long sword, aiming to decapitate.

A whistle sounded, only Rein could whistle that loudly; lasting over two seconds, it meant Zahak’s team had been wiped out.

Morison fell silent for a moment.

"You’re a tough one. I’ll keep this sword; until we meet again."

Morison sheathed his sword, striding away.

Leaving the severely injured Zahak unable to move.

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