Chapter 443 - 189: The Black-Hearted Wei’en

A crimson moon hung in the sky, and the sea had calmed.

Dozens of wooden tables were set up on the deck of the Bai Ke Li. Some of the more exquisitely patterned dining tables had been temporarily borrowed from the Kenzan Frolov and were now laden with beer kegs and all sorts of meat.

The coarse pirates had their arms slung over each other’s shoulders, drinking and feasting. A few refined-looking bards played harps, elegantly singing a vulgar pirate shanty: "Pillage one merchant ship, pillage two merchant ships, the gold and the girls are all mine."

The sound traveled far on the sea breeze, occasionally provoking several deep-sea aberrations to leap from the calm, roiling waters.

Their blood-red eyes breached the surface, staring fixedly at the people on the ship, bloodthirsty and crazed as they waited for an opening. The barbs and tiny scales on their bodies scraped against the ship’s iron plating, making a SSSKKRRR sound, as if to remind the people on board not to ignore them.

However, the people on the ship didn’t notice the aberrations at all—or if they did, it didn’t affect their merriment in the slightest. Protected by the Dawn Lantern and the statue of Lady Storm, they repeatedly clinked their mugs, taking great gulps of beer, tearing into the meat, and laughing uproariously.

"Cheers!"

"Those Dawn Church people are a bunch of lunatics! It’s bad enough they act like tyrants on the Eastern Continent, but to think they’d dare come to the Cordo Sea. Sooner or later, Boss Isabella will have them all slaughtered."

"That son of a bitch actually wanted to ’purify’ us all into believers. Good thing Boss Waleed shut him down."

"You all don’t understand. Without the shining radiance of the Dawn, the world would not know its current peace. It’s just..."

"Huh? Azkielro, you son of a bitch, have you become a believer in the Dawn, too? Brothers, you know what to do, right?"

"We know! Send him to the cabins! Let Yifuna and her girls take good care of him!"

"Hahaha, send him over!"

"Huh?!"

SHLICK!

One of the massive aberrations could no longer hold back. It shot out a tentacle covered in suckers, stabbing viciously at a pirate whose back was turned.

BANG!

A bullet shattered the tentacle then, without losing speed, traced a bizarre arc back around and hit the creature’s head, which exploded into a firework of blood and gore.

Wei’en gave his hand a flick, and the revolver vanished. He calmly lifted a small beer keg for another swig, as if he had just done something utterly unremarkable.

"Nice shot!"

Black Jack applauded, recalling the bullet’s trajectory. "In decades of sailing the seas, I’ve rarely seen shooting like that," he said in admiration. "How do you do it?"

Wei’en said calmly, "Practice."

’It takes a hundred million practice shots to even have a chance at Master-level Gun Skill. So yeah, ’practice.’’

"..." Black Jack turned to Yuan and Menor, asking with a bewildered look, "Is this kid always like this? That’s so damn discouraging."

"Give it up, Jack," Yuan said, devouring a blue marlin that was roasted crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. "The score is twelve to zero. If you keep going, the gap is only going to get wider."

"Is it that hard to admit Wei’en is a better shot than anyone on your entire Bai Ke Li?" Menor prodded, taking a sip of butterbeer with a mischievous grin.

"Impossible?!" Goaded, Black Jack leaped to his feet and yelled toward Waleed, "Mirus, get over here!"

"Oh? Still want to compete?" Menor raised an eyebrow, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Jack, you’re not deliberately losing these matches just to have an excuse to drink, are you?"

"Hmph. Unlike you, I do more than just think."

"I’ll take that as a compliment."

Black Jack ignored him, determined to win at least one round.

"Mirus, come on. Compete with the kid—marksmanship. First one to kill the next aberration that jumps up wins. And you better give it your all..."

"Understood, Boss Jack."

Wei’en glanced at the newcomer: a rather unremarkable middle-aged man in a red leather jacket with two flintlocks tucked into his belt. He didn’t give him much thought.

This shooting competition was just some entertainment they had cooked up while drinking—both to liven up the party and to deal with the aberrations leaping from the sea to protect the other pirates.

Winning or losing didn’t matter to him.

Mirus saw that Wei’en’s hands were empty, so he too just stood aside, eating and drinking as he waited for the next aberration to appear.

The crowd looked ready for a good show, occasionally pointing and murmuring about Wei’en.

"The boss is serious now. He’s even sending out Mirus."

"Isn’t having Mirus compete a bit unfair? An Extraordinary with the ’Dual Guns’ talent is a much better shot than most."

"But for the boss to call on Mirus, it means that kid named Wei’en must have some serious skills, too."

"No kidding. He’s taken down twelve aberrations in a row, each with a single shot. Elmano and Bishop didn’t even get a chance to fire."

"That good? Isn’t he a Wizard?"

"Who knows... He’s the man who killed Henrik, after all."

Meanwhile, on the Kenzan Frolov, Clelia and the others were leaning against the ship’s railing, watching the competition on the Bai Ke Li.

"Come on, Wei’en!"

"Tina. Brother Wei’en. Win." The white-haired girl beside Clelia stood on her tiptoes, craning her neck to watch Wei’en.

Shawa and Model Zero said nothing, but from their clenched fists, it was clear they were silently cheering for Wei’en.

Standing behind them, however, Marco, Moskra, and the others paid no attention to the marksmanship competition. They were huddled together, whispering about something.