Chapter 180: Good Fortune Never Comes Twice

After learning the unique features of the nine schools, George finally understood why the records for each school in the ancient scroll were so different. This martial record, meant to be passed down through generations, was a gift from the Flying Dragon Empire’s royal family to their generals. Naturally, it focused mainly on battle formations, so the White Crow Style had the most content. Next came the Iron Heart School and the Steel Soul Style, designed to give their leaders the power to protect themselves in the chaos of war. As for the Stone Dragon Style and the Tiger Claw Style, they felt more like bonus additions. In The East, very few generals of that rank charged into battle like ordinary soldiers.

As for the remaining four schools, the Pious Heart School, the Indifferent Wind School, the Setting Sun School, and the Shadow Hand School, they did not play a major role for a general on the battlefield. Therefore, the martial record only briefly introduced them. It was clear that the Flying Dragon Empire took the inheritance of these schools very seriously.

‘Even though the records of the nine schools are incomplete, they are still excellent! Many of the moves and secret arts here are on par with Knight Techniques. This time, I really struck it rich,’ George thought with satisfaction.

Unfortunately, good fortune rarely comes twice. Just as George had just made a huge gain, a shadow was brewing on the sea outside Morbihan Port in Bolerum Territory.

As the hot sun climbed along its set path, the fog on the sea became slightly thinner, and the sailors had a wider view. Half an hour away, a fleet with one large ship and two smaller ones raised their white sails. Encouraged by the tireless strong wind, they sailed at ten knots toward their destination, Morbihan Port. But that was not the only fleet heading there.

“It seems slower than we thought. The big three-masted ship should be faster than expected. Can’t this cursed monsoon get stronger?” A hairy, bare-chested man with dirty feet, who had exposed his chest hair in this weather, looked at the hourglass nearly empty in its half-fixed place in the cabin. “Maybe those bastards are just not used to handling the treasure. After all, I only got it recently. Although Old Tom has already been fed to the sharks because of it…”

The man touched the high-quality wooden planks inside the cabin and spat out toward the side of the ship in self-mockery. He glanced sideways at the “bait” disguised as a merchant ship. It was still drifting about two nautical miles away, looking like a fat man with a round belly full of oil, using his hands and feet to push through the water, slowly sailing toward the distance. The members on board would set fires around the port before the attack to cause chaos and create convenient conditions for the pirates’ actions.

“Just like Cadwallader’s bastard!” the man cursed in his heart, but he couldn’t quite remember his name, perhaps because he was too low-key. “Tsk, a nameless beast, I hope you survive this big deal!”

Cadwallader was the captain of that “bait” ship. His round body and thick layers of fat were the main reasons he could take on this responsibility. In fact, he could not be called a true pirate. Within the whole operation, he was in charge of the fencing part. If the profit was not so huge this time, that cowardly and greedy man would never have shown up shirtless like this.

“Should we change course?” the young first officer suggested beside him, blinking his blue eyes repeatedly. “At this speed, I’m afraid we won’t be able to ‘meet’ the target…”

Before the first officer, Jon, could finish his sentence, a sudden wave crashed over, soaking his freshly washed clothes. The strong wind, like a mischievous child, kept splashing waves against the deck, scattering salty droplets into the air that flew freely, accidentally wetting the thick man’s curly red hair. He licked the slight bitterness on his lips; it was the salty smell of the sea, but sadly, it lacked the stickiness of blood.

“No, no need!” Spitting out the salty taste from his mouth, the man waved his hand, looked up at the two masts on his ship, and glanced around the forecastle. “Spread all sails, tighten the ropes, and if they get wet, fight the wind at full speed!”

The sailors rushed around like rats stealing food, climbing up the masts and crossbeams. They poured buckets of salty seawater over the white sails and ropes, tying strong sailor’s knots. It was like those wealthy ladies wrapped in silk, who only revealed the two lumps of flesh on their chests after getting wet, drawing heavy, full arcs on the white cloth.

“Hmm! Although we cannot add more masts to the ship, changing to Palam’s sails should still speed us up a bit. But the price…” The big man stroked his chin, pondering an immature plan. But soon, he stopped this endless train of thought. After all, if they won, there would be plenty of time to consider it.

“The ‘bait’ should be starting its performance now! I hope they get lucky, otherwise, tonight’s operation might have trouble,” the big man took a deep breath. Then, he hung a decent-looking cigar in his mouth.

‘Although these over one hundred pirates can barely fill the main deck, this will be the start of my Legend! I, “Red Hair” Ichabod, am destined to rule the sea. Perhaps later, I can use the stolen wealth to buy a title in The South.’ But as he thought, Ichabod whipped the nine-tailed cat-o’-nine-tails in his hand and roared to encourage them: “Pirates, lift your chests!”

They were already sharpening their swords. Blood was boiling and burning, calling my hungry sea dogs under my command to pounce on the fat necks of the prey, pinning them down, and tearing off large chunks of fat.

“Let those cowardly quail see what a warrior forged by the sea is! Let those cowards who tremble in the storm see it!” Ichabod pointed his finger at the distant ship silhouette, his sharp voice piercing through the wood. “Tell them, tell those cowards who live in the port all day long! Who—is the owner of the heart of the storm?”

“It’s us! It’s us! It’s us!” The confident roars rose and fell one after another. Although they lacked order, they were the roars of the fearless. “…We are the children of the storm!”

‘Short-sighted bastards!’ Watching the “warriors” before him fall into madness, Ichabod let out a cheerful laugh, but his eyes held deep contempt.

Because courage fueled by greed often breaks faster when hitting an iron wall. This is why pirates can only fight with the wind. They have courage but lack endurance; they have patience but lack persistence. They are the daggers of assassins, but they cannot be the long swords of warriors.

“Listen to my orders, the captain’s orders!” Holding onto the ropes hanging from the mast platform, Ichabod, with a agility that did not match his body, stepped on a few supports and lightly jumped to a higher spot. Standing high above, he looked down at the whole ship. “Like cunning hungry wolves, circle around behind these wild boars, jump up, and bite their throats tight. Do not let go until they die!”

“Do not let go until they die!” The voice was a bit lower, but even more determined.

The white sails, full of the strong wind from the side, rushed through the splashes as the crossbeams trembled. Like greedy hammerhead sharks, they bared their white teeth and bit toward the future ahead.

Ichabod, whose right hand held the rope that kept him half-suspended in the air, waved his scimitar. “But for now, please wait patiently for the night to fall. That is our proper stage.”