Chapter 1701 - 873: In Times of Trouble

The Four Seas are calm, Thousand Islands are still.

It seems as if nothing has happened; the sun rises as usual, everything operates as usual, and the Endless Sea has not changed due to the outcome of a victory or defeat.

Or perhaps the change came swiftly, so quickly that it hasn't manifested yet.

The photograph of Corpse Mountain has already spread across the Desert Market, with many familiar faces put together, dead and unrecognizable.

Caruso, the leader of Hidden Mist Reef, and the Fierce Dead Guard between Thousand Islands and even the unknown Ruins—few people can notice that the rumored 'Cangming,' who often cooperated with East City Wilderness Market, has not been seen for a long time. As for the broken Thrusting Sword stuck nearby, it is a famous assassination weapon of the Sheng Jiao Series...

Just the day before, it was thought to be the end of a victory or defeat; half a day later, both sides tore at each other, disregarding any rules, attempting an ambush assassination, yet Seven Cities achieved a complete victory, Hidden Mist and Iron Hook Departments were utterly defeated, losing both face and substance thoroughly.

Now, after Hidden Mist Reef lost its leader, chaos has ensued; the family's elders can barely suppress the situation, but the younger generation underneath is already becoming restless, each preparing to make big moves. Even if Seven Cities doesn't kick them while they're down, a violent conflict is inevitable.

A realm full of vibrancy and competition is about to overwhelm us, in stark contrast, Iron Hook District remains eerily silent.

Everyone exchanged glances, unable to curb their curiosity.

Looking up at the tall tower supported by an abandoned ship, the urge to peek inside is hard to resist.

Caruso is already dead; so many people have died.

Satria, why aren't you dead yet?

But, have you died yet? You should have, right?

If not dead, it should be soon, right?!

Iron Hook District, originally a place of hawks, thieves, pirates, and fugitives, has nothing about harmony and success; now, with Caruso gone, the family can suppress things based on heritage and bloodline, but Iron Hook District is just sheer survival of the fittest.

Satria, if you can't manage it, at least don't block others from rising, right?

Rumors blew in yesterday afternoon, and people have started probing.

Noticing that Satria was indeed missing, by evening, the most famous ship owners of the Iron Hook District's twelve divisions had almost begun to unite, preparing to forcibly ascend.

If Satria hadn't returned like lightning, killing the most jubilant guy with his own hands to set an example, the Iron Hook District might have already been engulfed in chaos.

Even so, it's just drinking poison to quench thirst.

Everyone began to concern themselves with Satria's injuries. Does he have any problems? He better have issues, right? Why did he suddenly disappear if he's fine?

Why is the core and upper levels sealed off? Why does he ignore everyone's attempts to visit or inquire about his health?

Was last night's hurried appearance just a dying flash, a facade?

As for whether he's fishing…

Forget it, who fishes in their own household doing nothing? Garbage has its uses, let alone using one's own physical issues as bait to fish—it damages internal strength whether you win or lose. If Satria is perfectly fine with strong support behind him, why bother pretending?

Thus, everyone concluded.

Injured! He's definitely injured and gravely so.

Just how serious is it?

Could he die?

The ship owners oppressed by Satria for years peeked at the pitch-dark tower, listening for any movement, and internally began to pray.

Disease, you must overcome Satria!

"...Now, those worthless fools below should be burning incense and kowtowing, hoping I'm dead, right?"

In the highest room of the tower, enveloped in darkness, the air was thick with an acrid scent of incense. Behind the curtain, the figure reclined on the throne coughed, breathed, and laughed hoarsely.

"The leader is just facing a temporary setback, a small obstacle; why discuss life and death over trivial matters?"

His confidant Himawan remained calm, suppressing unease and panic, handling a cauldron of thick paste-like ointment with bare hands, ignoring the harsh sizzling sound of the cauldron ears burning.

The eerie aura in that cauldron, barely noticeable, rose like Illusion Light flames and spread out.

When the lowered curtain was lifted, the tragic figure in the chair finally revealed itself, making his eyelids twitch violently...

Unlike his past strong and mighty self, Satria's flesh has almost entirely wilted and dissipated, becoming a skeletal frame covered in skin, nearly bisected...

Three rolling scars on his chest appeared as if torn by the claws of some beast, and underneath, his organs had completely melted into a mass of sticky crimson substance.

Literally, on the brink of death.

Yet, those eyes remained fierce, like burning ghostly fires, scanning inch by inch across Himawan's face.

Himawan dared not look closely, kept his eyes down, obeyed orders, and poured the entire inherited medicine into the gaping wound in Satria's abdomen...

Immediately, a hissing sound echoed as Satria's body trembled, squeezing out a hoarse grimace from between clenched teeth, suppressing the urge to roar.