The Rich Cultivator
Chapter 418. Confrontation Between Phantoms

Chapter 418: 418. Confrontation Between Phantoms

Just like the ’fake’ Phantom Pirates who caused a stir with their theatrical arrival, the appearance of the so-called ’real’ Phantom Pirates stirred another wave of attention among the immortal practitioners in Veins Peak.

A ghostly ship—blackened wood creaking with each wave, its sails tattered and marked with ominous sigils—emerged from the morning fog. Its arrival was eerie but unmistakable, moving like a shadow cast by something far darker. The ship bore a Jolly Roger not easily forgotten: a skull bleeding crimson tears.

Gasps rose from the portside crowd.

"Is that Shadow Pearl?..."

"No, It’s them. The real Phantom Pirates."

The ghost-ship docked with slow, deliberate motion, drawing closer like a beast stalking its prey. A cloaked figure standing at the prow tossed a small leather pouch toward one of the dock attendants. The pouch hit the ground with a soft thud, revealing its contents—stacks of Lydia notes.

The man who threw the pouch stepped down from the ship, removing his hood to reveal long, pointed ears and ashen skin. His eyes gleamed like embers—cold, intelligent, and deadly.

The dark elf Captain

And not just him. Behind him marched his crew—dozens of dark elves with blood-red eyes, each shrouded in black cloaks or tattered battle garb. One, however, stood out starkly among them. A female dark elf with provocative armor barely covering her voluptuous figure walked with seductive confidence. She held a leash attached to a middle-aged woman crawling on all fours—naked, bruised, and blank-eyed like a broken pet.

The dock attendant flinched. He turned to his colleague, sending a sound transmission:

"Should we charge them dock fees for the other Phantom Pirates who didn’t pay?"

The second attendant, more experienced, responded with a simple hand gesture : Go ahead. Do the fcuk you want.

The man turned back and saw how intimidating they are. He decided not to do.

Though intimidating, something was off.

"They’re scary," whispered someone nearby, "but... not as dramatic as the first ones."

"Yeah. The other Phantom Pirates—those masked ones—their entrance was like a scene from a nightmare. This... this feels more like a nightmare that’s been walking around for years."

Still, curiosity burned brighter than fear. Spectators began following the dark elves at a distance, hoping that the other Phantom Pirates— the so-called fakes — would show up.

And they did.

As the dark elves made their way toward the bustling town square, a strange mist rolled in. White, almost silver, creeping in tendrils along the ground, blanketing the square in a spectral haze. Rainclouds gathered overhead, darkening the skies in an unnatural gloom.

From within the mist, figures emerged.

Each wore a unique Phantom Mask. Their cloaks fluttered with invisible winds, and the auras they exuded were oppressive yet controlled — like thunderclouds ready to strike.

Phantom Blackwood and his crew had arrived.

The crowd gasped again. A duel of legends was about to begin. Meanwhile the Town Guards are debating whether to intervene or not if they started to Brawl.

The leader of the dark elves stepped forward, facing the masked man at the front.

"Phantom Blackwood," he greeted with a rasp.

"Kael Driftsbane," the masked man responded.

Another figure stepped forward from the dark elf crew—Talindra, the provocative woman with the leash. Her red eyes gleamed as they locked onto one specific figure among Blackwood’s group.

"Temptress..." she purred.

Before anything else could be said, Temptress rolled her eyes and muttered, "Are we gonna keep calling out names like we’re taking attendance? Get to the point."

Talindra grinned and caressed her leashed woman’s head.

"Oh, but I’m already so tempted," she whispered, her voice dark with sadistic delight. She placed her hand on the woman’s back, and with a soft breath, the middle-aged woman aged rapidly—skin shriveling, bones cracking, until she was little more than a husk.

Talindra moaned softly. "Mmm. Satisfying..."

Blackwood didn’t flinch. "So are you here to just show off?"

Kael Driftsbane smirked. "We’re here for the challenge. But first, let’s agree to the terms. You showed up using our name. That makes it our name. So we’re putting it on the line."

"The name Phantom Pirates?" Blackwood’s voice was calm. "Sure. We’ll put it up."

"That’s not all," Kael added, his smirk deepening. "We want more. Your name... and your crew."

Talindra stepped forward, licking her lips. "Especially her. The Temptress. She’s mine."

From behind Blackwood, Darla whispered through voice transmission, "She’s definitely Mathilda’s long-lost twin sister from the perverted side of the family."

"Let’s not get ahead of ourselves," Temptress replied aloud. "First let’s start the challenge. Then talk about fantasies."

Kael nodded. "We’ll face off after the Auction. You better have something worth fighting for. Don’t loose too Quickly."

"We’ll be there," Blackwood said simply.

As Kael turned to leave, Talindra lingered a little longer. She walked past Temptress slowly, deliberately swaying her hips. Suddenly, smack—a sharp slap landed on her rear.

Talindra turned in surprise.

MC winked, rubbing her palm playfully.

"She let me hit her," MC grinned.

"I noticed palm," Talindra muttered. "And I didn’t stop her."

With that, she followed the rest of her crew, disappearing into the darkened mist. As the clouds broke and sunlight returned, Phantom Blackwood and his group vanished again—like ghosts returning to shadow.

Moments later, a figure flew in from above. Masha landed with her boots clicking on the pavement.

"Oh, come on! I missed them again?!"

She was frustrated. Phantom Blackwood and his crew were the very reason she’d come to this island. And every time she was a step too late.

She stood there for a moment, sighing, looking up toward the sky that was now a clear, soft blue.

"Please show up at the auction..." Masha muttered under her breath, her boots tapping against the cobbled path as she turned away from the empty square.

"Found you."

"Huh?" Masha blinked and turned around. A young boy stood there with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Then she narrowed hers. "Tyler?"

"Yup. Back in disguise," he said with a casual grin. "So... what are you upto now?"

"Eh... still got some things on my to-do list," Masha said, stretching her arms behind her head. "But they got postponed."

"Oh? So that mean you’re free now?" Tyler asked.

Masha raised an eyebrow. "Ya askin’ me out, mister?"

"You’re the one who said if I find you again, I should ask."

"Hah, fair ’nuff. A deal’s a deal," Masha shrugged.

A few minutes later, the two of them sat inside a high-end bar, one with quiet music, floating candles, and Prana-infused air that shimmered slightly under the lights. Masha was already a bit red in the face, swirling a glass of amber liquid with lazy circles.

"Nah, see... I meant after I leave this island. Or if ya somehow found my real body," she said, poking Tyler’s cheek with her finger. "Seriously... ya really wanna bang my clone?"

Tyler smirked and took a sip of his Prana Mule. "How about both?"

"Hehe... bold answer. But lemme tell ya, you gotta work real hard if ya wanna keep up with me," Masha said, leaning back. "Most boys ’n girls don’t like my main body anyway."

What Masha didn’t realize was that anyone who saw her real body practically wanted to kneel and call her Mommy—but she was too dense to ever notice.

"You’ll run away too..." she muttered quietly, more to herself than to him. Then her lips moved again, just barely: "That Manhunter... she’s the only one..."

Her voice trailed off, too soft for Tyler to catch the rest.

Noticing the shift in mood, Tyler waved his hand. A bartender approached and placed a new drink in front of her—vodka laced with shimmering, edible Prana Pearls.

"Hey now, don’t drown in sorrow," he said gently, "Drown in Alcohol."

Masha scoffed as she eyed the glowing drink. "Sorrow? Me?"

She took a long sip, then leaned forward, her expression half-lidded but her voice suddenly clear and bitter. "When someone’s alive, people take ’em for granted. Act like nothin’ matters. Then one day they’re gone—poof—and suddenly, life feels hollow. Like ya dropped somethin’ important but can’t remember what it was. Regret comes knockin’ way too late."

She downed the rest of the vodka and Prana Pearls in one gulp, the glowing spheres sliding down her throat like liquid stars.

"But me?" she continued, her gaze distant. "I didn’t feel nothin’ when my brother died. Not a damn thing."

Tyler stayed quiet. His hand paused halfway to his drink.

"He was weak. Pathetic. I never liked him. He got himself killed in the South Seas. Phantom Blackwood sliced him."

Tyler’s eyes twitched, but he kept his expression unreadable.

"I ain’t here for revenge," Masha said, staring into the empty glass. "People die in the sea all the time. That’s how it goes. But... sometimes... a sister’s just gotta say she’s avengin’ her brother, even if she don’t mean it."

She pushed the glass forward. Tyler gave a nod, and the bartender silently placed a refill.

"But enough ’bout me," Masha said with a half-smile. "What ’bout you, huh? I wanna hear all ’bout yer wild adventures. Don’t go holdin’ out on me."

Tyler chuckled. "Oh, where do I even start? Let me tell you how I ended up in the Abyss..."

And just like that, the heaviness lifted. The two of them sat there, sharing drinks and stories—two drifters, scarred and strange, finding warmth in each other’s chaos.