"Tell me about the situation over there," Wilder said, standing at the prow of the Black Serpent.
"Yes, sir."
"Based on the intel from their end, it'll take about half a month to reach it from our current position. It's a large island in the southern region called Fish Scale Island. The island is said to be terraced like fish scales. There's a town on it, not very large, with a population of about fifty thousand. There's only one ruling power—a local indigenous force. Though not particularly formidable, they control the entire island."
"Fish Scale Island isn't commercially developed; it's self-sufficient, relying on resources from the surrounding sea. It's remote, with no established shipping lanes. The area is frequently shrouded in thick fog and has numerous hidden reefs, so most ships steer clear. It's considered something of a legendary sea."
"Mm," Wilder nodded.
The Black Serpent cut through the waves.
In less than half a month, they had reached the target sea.
"Purupurupuru!"
"Katcha!"
"Report your position." In the open sea, the Black Serpent was anchored beside a small reef. On deck, a crewman was contacting Exploration Fleet No. 5.
At the front of the deck stood Wilder, Claire, Bacon, Yves, and Ashin. All five were clad in black cloaks that completely concealed their figures.
"Understood." The Den Den Mushi began relaying their position and other necessary details.
The ship was quiet, the only sound the clear voice from the Den Den Mushi reaching everyone's ears.
"Roger that." The crewman glanced at Wilder. Seeing no reaction, he nodded and ended the call.
"They'll come to guide us in." As if worried Wilder, Claire, and the others hadn't heard clearly, the crewman made a point of walking over to inform them.
"Hehehe… You're cut out to be a communications officer, kid." Bacon, still his usual irreverent self beneath his black cloak, sauntered over and playfully rufffled the crewman's shoulder.
"..."
Before long, a small black and red merchant ship emerged from the dense fog ahead. After confirming identities, it turned, and the Black Serpent followed.
"Once we reach Fish Scale Island, we disperse. Maintain stealth," Wilder stated as the Black Serpent sailed on.
The others nodded in acknowledgment.
The ship sailed on calm waters. If not for the sails propelling it, one might have mistaken the area for the Calm Belt. The sea surface was utterly still, like a mirror, with only occasional, faint ripples giving it the semblance of water. The sea was veiled in a thick white mist; ships twenty meters apart were mere hazy grey shadows.
They sailed on for what felt like a long time.
Finally, the silhouette of an island appeared ahead.
The island was vast, higher inland and sloping downwards towards the coast, with fish-scale-like stone cliffs and flatlands distributed irregularly. The entire island was composed of these scale-shaped terrains.
As they neared the island, the white mist thinned, though a dense fog still clung to the outer periphery.
"This area gets enveloped in white mist three to four times a day," a crewman from the escorting Exploration Fleet No. 5 explained. "It spreads outwards from the waters surrounding the island, forming a circle. The immediate vicinity of the island itself isn't usually covered. Additionally, parts of the island also experience fog incursions. The locations and scale are unpredictable, with no discernible pattern."
The Black Serpent docked. The crew disembarked first, landing on Fish Scale Island.
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh...!
After all the crew had disembarked, leaving only a dozen or so to guard the ship, five figures cloaked entirely in black shot out from the vessel, dispersing in different directions.
The island received a group of unprecedented "honored guests."
The slaughter began without a sound, without warning or preparation. The Black Serpent had made its forceful landing!
Splat!
Crimson liquid sprayed! Battle cries erupted! In some areas, people fell into pools of their own blood without even seeing their attackers.
"Submit and live. Resist and die," a cold female voice declared from beneath a black cloak.
Large cracks appeared on stone-built houses as a purple flash of cutting power struck. Dust filled the air, and fierce winds raged!
Blood, rubble, sharp attacks, gunpowder smoke, and flames! Under the shroud of the dense fog, even sounds seemed muffled.
"Kill!"
The deafening war cries were primarily directed at the island's sole ruling force. Resistance crumbled weakly against this group. Island residents hid in their homes, witnessing through cracks in doors and windows a continuous stream of people falling in pools of blood, their hearts pounding with terror.
On the rooftop of a house, a black-cloaked figure stood, silently observing the alerted island forces on the street below. After a long moment, without uttering a word, the black cloak billowed as the figure swooped down from the roof, landing amidst the crowd on the street.
Splat! Splat! Splat!
Crimson sprayed. In an instant, a dozen people fell into pools of blood, torn apart by wildly dancing storm winds and cutting blades of air.
Chk-BOOM! Elsewhere, another black-cloaked figure shouldering a short cannon pulled the trigger. A piercing shell, trailing white smoke and a fiery tail, shot out.
Screams erupted. The crowd was blasted apart; dozens were thrown high into the air by the terrifying shockwave and flames.
The one-sided massacre had begun.
Not many crew members had disembarked from the Black Serpent, but they were all elites, holding their own effortlessly against the island's forces. Meanwhile, a steady stream of Black Serpent merchant ships was approaching from the outer sea.
"To catch bandits, first catch the king." The priority was naturally to seize the headquarters of the island's sole power. Unfortunately, their "king" wasn't present. So… Wilder, the only one who hadn't yet made a move, could only sip his red wine alone and watch the "fireworks" below.
The island force's headquarters was naturally no match for the Black Serpent's standards. Even the leader's office was incredibly crude. A dilapidated sofa, a paint-chipped desk. If not due to poverty, then perhaps the owner simply had no demands for their living standards.
"Boss, we've captured their leader."
Before long, the message came. Wilder pursed his lips, his gaze fixed on the scene outside the window. "Kill him," he said, his expression impassive.
"Yes, sir."
Half a day passed, and the island gradually quieted down.
"Tch, too pathetic, way too pathetic. I was hoping for a real killing spree, but they were so damn weak," Bacon grumbled, picking his teeth, his tone full of exasperation, like a disappointed mentor.
"Hmph..." The others shot him a disdainful look. This guy only knew how to act tough against weaklings; when faced with real danger, he was more scared than anyone. Of course… when he truly went berserk, he fought with desperate abandon. Everyone had come to understand this about him.
The island was now entirely under the Black Serpent Merchant Guild's control. Under the intimidating might displayed through the slaughter, no one dared to disobey. The next step was an adjustment period: to make the islanders accustomed to the Black Serpent's presence, even to make them dependent on it—to share in its glory and its disgrace.
Then, they would transform this unaffiliated island into a fortified base, a stronghold, their headquarters—and concurrently, a hub for profit and wealth.