Captain – Chapter 137 – A Crazy Gamble

“In naval combat, my current vessel is far from a match for the Mermaid, but in hand-to-hand combat, those fellows can’t hold a candle to me. If I can seize an opportunity that catches everyone by surprise, forcing the brat to face me alone, then we can turn our slim hope into a hundred percent chance of victory.”

Roy looked at the old sailor who had begun writing a reply, adding softly: “And how to seize such an opportunity has always been your specialty, Old John.”

“This is simply a crazy gamble. Even in the past, we’ve never faced such a perilous situation, have we, Captain?” Old John sighed deeply, his tone carrying more gravity and weariness.

“Because our opponent is Richi.”

The captain remained silent for a moment before finally speaking the legendary name. She lowered her eyelids slightly, her voice betraying no emotion: “He knows us too well, just as we know him. Ordinary tactics simply won’t work.”

“Moreover, he now commands the Mermaid and has joined forces with the Black Emperor. His visible strength far exceeds mine. With mutual knowledge of each other’s capabilities, to turn the tables, I can only take him by surprise.”

Roy rose from the bookshelf, turned around, and ran her fingers along the edges of various intelligence pouches: “Only by finding a variable that even he couldn’t anticipate, and then staking everything I have on one desperate gamble, will I have a fair chance to compete with him.”

Hearing the slight sound of the young woman’s fingers sliding across the intelligence pouches, Old John, without raising his head, said: “Third row, seventh item, information on the Mermaid. Fourth row, sixth item, information on important personnel aboard. The third one after that contains all sailing routes from the past half year.”

The captain, following the old sailor’s directions, smoothly pulled out those three file pouches, tucked them at her waist, and then approached the gray wall behind Old John. She gently pressed a protruding spot behind a decorative painting on the left side.

With a slight tremor, the outline of a door suddenly appeared on the gray wall. It slowly retreated about three inches, then silently slid along an extremely thin inner wall.

Soon, a spiral staircase leading underground appeared before the young woman.

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“Old John, you know, you are that variable.”

Before leaving, the captain turned slightly, looking through his thin shoulders at the tip of the quill in his hand. Her dark golden pupils resembled magma before eruption—majestic and terrifying.

She spoke softly: “In the past, we have never lost a gamble. So, I hope you will gamble with me one last time…”

“Bet on my victory, John Davidson.”

The quill didn’t stop; its tip continued to move gently across the parchment, making a pleasant rustling sound. The old man writing the reply maintained a calm and peaceful expression, with no ripples in his deep brown eyes: “Of course, my captain.”

The killing intent contained in Roy’s pupils gradually dissipated, and she smiled silently: “Thank you, Bosun.”

After another slight tremor, the gray stone wall returned to its original state, showing no trace of having moved.

Old John continued writing quietly, as if he were completely familiar with the previous scene, as if the words that had just slipped from his mouth truly reflected his inner thoughts.

Until a gust of wind blew in from outside, unusually strong, forcing the barely-open wooden window wide open, its frame slamming heavily against the wall.

All the candles on the table were extinguished, and with a crisp sound, the black quill snapped.

Old John awoke as if from a dream, gasping as urgently as a drowning man rescued from water, his clothing soaked with sweat. His aged face was filled with terror and fear.

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In that previous moment, if his performance had deviated even slightly from Roy’s expectations, he would already be a dead man.

When it comes to controlling people’s hearts, Richi still falls far short of Captain Roy…

It took the old sailor quite some time to recover. He thought silently, his gaze following the blown-open wooden window, looking at the stars gradually obscured by dark clouds. The corners of his mouth twitched a few times, revealing a rather unsightly smile.

“Clink!”

The silver cutlery collided with the porcelain plate, producing a sharp, piercing sound that echoed in the quiet cabin, making it even more unsettling.

Hearing the Black Emperor’s question, Richi slowly raised his head. He straightened up, took the napkin Cassius handed him, and wiped away the slight traces of blood at the corners of his mouth.

The young man’s blood-red eyes swept across the important figures of the Constantine, finally resting on the pole-like bosun, and he asked in a hoarse voice: “Are you doubting my people?”

Feeling Richi’s utterly cold gaze, Randall opened and closed his mouth, instinctively looking toward the Black Emperor. Facing this butcher who had once hung like a nightmare over the Constantine, he had no courage to respond.

“Then how do you guarantee that when we fight Roy, you won’t stab us in the back?”

Seemingly having lost interest in this coward who lacked the courage to respond, Richi shifted his gaze back to Solomon’s face and asked expressionlessly.

With this question, the expressions of the Constantine’s upper echelon grew ugly. At this point in the negotiations, it seemed there was no need to continue.

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Solomon didn’t answer the young man’s question. He merely narrowed his eyes, staring at those blood-red eyes, trying to discern something from them.

But regrettably, there was no coldness, no threat, not even disappointment in those eyes.

Nothing at all.

Again receiving no answer, the young man’s patience was exhausted. He leaned on the table to stand up, slightly raised his chin, and ordered hoarsely: “Let’s go.”

At his words, everyone’s expression changed, except for the Black Emperor’s.

Just leave like this?

What did this mean—had the negotiations completely failed, or was the alliance between the Mermaid and the Constantine over?

No one knew, but whichever it was, it wasn’t the outcome they wanted to see.

“Wait.”

Almost simultaneously, two voices of restraint sounded.

One came from Solomon, and the other from Cassius, whose face showed bewilderment.

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Exchanging a glance with the Black Emperor, Cassius smiled reservedly and made a gesture of invitation to this captain: “After you, please, after you.”

Giving this fellow a fierce glare, Solomon smiled at the young man and said: “I apologize for Randall’s earlier offense, little captain.”

The Black Emperor apologizing and yielding—this was an unprecedented scene. Seeing this, even the smile at the corners of Cassius’s mouth involuntarily froze.

Looking at the captain who still showed no intention of sitting down, Cassius, who knew what was in his mind, couldn’t help but twitch the corner of his eye a few times.

This seemingly harmless young man, who in reality wouldn’t tolerate the slightest offense, was waiting for Solomon to apologize for his actions. This approach, leaving no room for saving face, would obviously make the situation irreparable.

“Sit down, sit down, Captain. Give me a little time to talk with the gentlemen. It won’t take long.”

Seeing Cassius’s cautious demeanor, Richi remained silent for a long time before finally sitting down again under the terrified gazes of everyone, but he no longer had any interest in looking at the other side.

At this, Solomon’s gloomy expression eased slightly, and he gently clapped his hands.

“Someone, bring our little captain… a hot, fresh steak.”

Translator Note

The pressure’s building up and the stakes are soaring high.