Captain – Chapter 154 – Ship Like an Island, Eyes Like Blood Fire

Complete darkness filled the captain’s cabin, silent and still.

Behind the thick, hollow wooden walls, both the roaring waves like wild beasts and the deafening thunder were transformed into soft, gentle, muffled rumbles.

Roy slowly rose, moving while pressed against the side wall. Before any sense of nostalgia or emotion could color her thoughts, they were already filled with vigilance.

Silently, the captain’s hand rested on the hilt of her curved blade, her dark golden eyes gleaming in the darkness like a fierce tiger hunting in the wild night.

With that perfect infiltration, everyone might have failed to notice her presence—except for one person, that youth who understood her like family.

The moment she successfully entered the captain’s cabin, the young woman immediately tensed her entire body, entering combat mode. This duel between the two had already begun in that instant.

Keeping her breathing low, Roy filtered out the faint, sleep-inducing sounds coming from outside through the wooden walls, focusing entirely on listening for subtle movements within the room, hoping to locate the youth’s position.

Such an attempt was clearly futile.

Let alone the friction of boots against the wooden floor or the soft noise of clothing brushing against furniture or walls, Roy listened for a full two minutes without detecting even deliberately quieted breathing.

Richi was a born assassin, a killer who dwelled in shadows, with exceptionally powerful breath control that could last nearly six minutes.

Clearly, the youth had now entered a state of dormancy, and to determine his position through breathing, Roy would need to wait at least another five minutes.

When dealing with an assassin, being able to determine their position in advance would naturally provide a tremendous advantage.

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But the problem was that every minute, every second delayed on the Mermaid increased Roy’s risk. According to Old John’s intelligence, her enemies should already be aware of her arrival. If the irregularity in the captain’s cabin continued for too long, the people outside might simply break down the door.

So she had no time to waste. Even at the risk of exposing herself to ambush, she had to find Richi’s exact position as soon as possible.

With this in mind, Roy took a deep breath and began searching every corner of the room.

During this process, though she minimized her footsteps, they still remained clear and distinct in this silent environment, as if deliberately revealing her position.

This was an invitation—an invitation to face death together, or to set aside old grudges and talk calmly.

Who were they? They had once stood side by side, a legendary duo that struck fear throughout the Eastern Seas. They were as close as siblings, knowing each other inside and out, so there was nothing they couldn’t discuss.

As long as the stakes were laid out openly, as long as both sides could be satisfied, even that betrayal could be laughed off, and they could still be that incomparably synchronized captain and first mate…

As if.

If the little bastard showed himself, without another word, she’d first punch him and break his nose, then beat him half to death. After that, they could talk if there was anything to say, express any sentiments that needed expressing. If they couldn’t reach an agreement, she’d cut his throat. And if they could… well, she’d see.

Roy thought silently as she circled past the table filled with nautical instruments, still unable to find the youth. Now the only possible hiding place left was that soft large bed covered with silk sheets and goose-feather pillows.

But that was her bed! Couldn’t he find a better place to hide? What an absolute little bastard.

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Imagining the scene that might follow—blood splattered all over the bedding—even in such a dangerous situation, Roy couldn’t help but darken her expression, silently cursing with displeasure.

Finally, the captain arrived before the long-missed bed, slowly reaching for the spread silk sheets, gently grabbing a corner, then yanking them away.

Simultaneously, she leaped backward, her silver-white curved blade already partially drawn, ready to fully unsheathe at the Blood-Eyed Butcher’s first move, slicing an inescapable white crescent.

One second, two seconds… a full ten seconds passed.

The silk sheets hung fluttering at the bedpost, but the thin figure the young woman had expected was not lying on the bed.

Seeing this unexpected scene, a trace of confusion flashed in Roy’s eyes, but quickly disappeared, replaced by intense surprise.

Since boarding the Mermaid and entering the captain’s cabin, the young woman had never considered this possibility.

She had never imagined that Richi wouldn’t be here, that Old John’s moment of awakening at the end of his road was still an act—an utterly despicable performance.

As she had once said, among a wealth of true intelligence, just a seemingly insignificant embellishment could directly change the course of a war.

She had calculated everything to the extreme, yet singularly failed to calculate that her enemy, that crafty and clever old man, was equally proficient in this art.

Only now did the captain suddenly realize that from beginning to end, Old John had never been hers. Faced with her requests and threats, his heart might not have wavered even slightly, and this grand trap she had personally laid was never meant for Richi…

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It was meant for herself.

A sudden vibration startled Roy from her thoughts.

Hearing the flapping sounds outside the captain’s cabin as the sails unfurled against the raging wind, feeling the tremors caused by the anchor breaking the water’s surface, she didn’t need to lift the black curtains covering the portholes to look outside to know what was happening.

The Mermaid had set sail, raising its sails in the storm.

That was a scene she was all too familiar with, but now it marked the prelude to the devil’s requiem.

“Once a ship reaches the open sea, it becomes an island—for the captain and crew, and equally so for enemies hidden in its dark corners.”

These were words the captain had once said to that youth. Now it seemed he had taken her teachings to heart and was applying them with ease.

You’ve really grown quite a bit, haven’t you? This past half-year must have been a torment for you too, Richi.

Roy slid her blade back into its sheath, smiling lightly and shaking her head. She took down the magnificent white coat with gold embroidery from the nearby coat rack, meticulously put it on, smoothed out the wrinkles on the sleeves, then picked up the black captain’s hat with gold trim, slowly walked around the edge of the table, and approached the desk.

Placing the captain’s hat on the table, Roy used a flint to light the white candle on the candlestick. The flickering candlelight illuminated the desktop.

It really hasn’t changed a bit.

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Roy casually lifted a tightly sealed small pouch, looking at this mysterious bag that had never been opened and whose position remained exactly the same as when she had left. She smiled faintly, shaking her head, and attached it to her belt.

Her gaze continued across the desktop, and the young woman quickly spotted the parchment directly facing her, and the beautiful handwriting upon it.

Welcome home, Captain—Richi Quake.

Gently picking up the tricorn hat and pressing it to her waist, Roy wore a soft smile and whispered, “Thank you, little one.”

“Bang!”

The wooden door was kicked open violently. Wind and rain, like long-suppressed beasts, rushed frantically into the captain’s cabin, pouring onto the wooden floor, extinguishing the white candle’s flame, and stirring the hem of that magnificent coat.

The one who kicked open the door was a pirate with four scars on his face, a ferocious thug who had struggled through life and death many times. But when the door swung open and a flash of lightning illuminated that silhouette, this bloodthirsty villain retreated several steps in terror, as if bitten by a venomous snake.

Behind that pirate was a dense crowd. Each wore a curved blade at their waist, and the front several rows were equipped with dozens of firearms, their black muzzles pointed directly at the person in the captain’s cabin.

At the end of the crowd stood the important figures of the Mermaid, and at the center, surrounded by these power-holders, was a youth.

The youth’s clothes were as crimson as blood, his tricorn hat as crimson as blood, and his eyes likewise resembled blood, glimmering with faint light in the stormy night.

As if deep within those eyes burned a blood-fire, intent on consuming all past and future.