Chapter Thirty-Five: The Storm Descends, Ferocious Battle Unfolds

Swish! Bai Xuan flicked his spear, tossing aside the fallen swordsman. The corpse thudded onto the deck, his face still frozen in disbelief at the moment of death.

“Bai Xuan! You’re a true brother, you saved my life!” Bai Yuanji wiped the blood from his face and bellowed with laughter, his scar twitching, making him look even more ferocious.

He hadn’t witnessed Bai Xuan’s explosive surge of energy, only the simplicity, speed, and ruthlessness of that spear thrust. He marveled at it in his heart.

Meanwhile, the deck was a scene of carnage—dozens of bodies littered the planks, blood flowed in rivulets, and weapons lay strewn everywhere. At the bow, three warriors who had breached their limits three times were still locked in fierce combat.

“Retreat!” In an instant, Bai Xuanji’s blue eyes blazed like a serpent’s, erupting with power. His palms struck forth like lightning!

At that moment, strength surged through his hands, as if he’d gathered the force of a rising tide.

Boom!

His two adversaries, caught off guard, were overwhelmed. Even amid such a deadly struggle, Bai Xuanji unleashed power even faster and fiercer. The air shattered with a deafening crack, shockwaves scouring pale streaks into the deck.

Splash!

Both men were hurled into the sea, spitting blood as they fell. When they attempted to resurface, a command rang out above.

“Ready the ballistae, fire!”

A barrage of bolts whistled down, piercing four or five meters into the water. Though both pirate leaders had broken through their limits three times, even they dared not surface under such a volley.

One misstep and death would follow instantly.

Hesitation cost them dearly. By the time they were hauled back onto their own ship, the Thousand Currents was already pulling away, slipping beyond their reach.

By now, thunderclouds had finally coalesced at the horizon, forming a massive black vortex between sky and sea. Rain began to fall, and in the blink of an eye, a torrential downpour engulfed everything.

The storm was coming!

...

This great battle had drawn in over a thousand men, and now, as it ended, the sea was littered with shattered planks. Ships slowly sank, flames still licking their decks.

The sky was dark and oppressive.

Aboard the flagship of the Starhunters, the deck was tense.

“Damn it, that old bastard Zong Shen still got away.”

Li Qicheng, the Starhunters’ fourth captain, stood with both hands at his sides, a massive broadsword strapped to his back. His body was honed by iron-hard martial arts, and his blade skills had reached a fearsome level. Behind him stood two lines of silent, powerfully built men, all radiating murderous intent.

“Qian Yuan, you traitorous dog. You betrayed your master and your ancestors! You’ll be torn limb from limb!”

Boss Qian forced a burly, cursing man onto the deck. This man’s energy surged around him like iron, and even two fighters who had broken their limits three times struggled to restrain him.

His curses were cut short when Li Qicheng frowned, drew his sword, and slashed through the air. The blade flashed, a surge of energy almost corporeal, and snapped back in an instant.

The man froze, his words dying on his lips.

A hiss.

Blood sprayed, organs spilled out. The man—despite his iron-hard body—was split clean in two, his flesh parting as he fell.

“What terrifying power. If it were me, I’d be cleaved in half all the same… This is the blood-forged form of one half a step from Grandmaster, blade light manifest. They say at Grandmaster level, the blood-forged form covers the whole body—arrows can’t pierce, horses can’t tear you apart, and even an earthquake leaves you unscathed.”

Boss Qian bowed deeply, not daring to show the slightest disrespect. This man, like his own master, was a half-step Grandmaster—an utterly terrifying force. To him, those who’d broken their limits three times were nothing.

“Qian Yuan, tell me: why did you submit to the Starhunters and betray the Black Raiders?” Li Qicheng asked calmly.

“Master Li, the times are changing, the gods grant and revoke as they please, and the wise adapt. In this sea, the Black Raiders are no longer fit for kingship,” Qian Yuan replied respectfully. “A wise bird chooses a sturdy tree.”

During the battle, he’d struck a decisive blow against his own master, Azure-Eyed Zong Shen, securing victory and great merit.

“Indeed, you know how to seize the moment,” Li Qicheng nodded. “From this day on, you are the Starhunters’ eighth captain. You’ll command your own fleet, and any who defy you will be cut down.”

His declaration rang out, echoing across the sea. The Starhunters’ banners snapped in the wind.

Qian Yuan’s betrayal was shameful, but the Starhunters needed such a figurehead: submit, and you were swiftly promoted; resist, and only death awaited. These were pirates—loyalty meant nothing.

Among the Starhunters, apart from the Grandmasters and half-step Grandmasters, few of those at the peak of three breakthroughs could surpass Qian Yuan. Promoting him to the eighth captain was well deserved.

“Thank you, Master Li!” Qian Yuan was ecstatic.

He’d betrayed Zong Shen because under his old master, he would always be just a subordinate, overseeing a few pirate ships, never allowed to rise higher.

Power and influence had to be seized for oneself.

With a wave of his hand, Li Qicheng tossed him a porcelain bottle.

“This is a bottle of Whale Blood Elixirs—bestowed by the Immortal Master. Guard it well. If you lose it, no one will replace it for you.”

Qian Yuan stowed the medicine with utmost care. This was the true reward for his betrayal—elixirs that ordinary medicine could never produce, crucial for his path toward becoming a half-step Grandmaster.

When he returned to his own ship, overjoyed, he suddenly remembered the five thousand taels of silver and the Dragon Serpent Chart he’d handed over. His eyes narrowed.

Five thousand taels was no small sum. The Dragon Serpent Chart had gone to Zong Shen, but the money had been his. How could he let that stand?

The chart was worth far more than five thousand taels. It could easily be traded for a whole fleet from the Bai family. Bai Xuanji is no weakling, not someone ordinary fighters can handle. I’ll have to recover that silver myself—and catch up with my old friend.

With a single thought, he decided to lead a ship in pursuit, taking care to select several skilled men in case anything went wrong.

Eager and triumphant, he soon had his Black Raider flagship flying the Starhunters’ banner, speeding off in pursuit.

...

Rain poured down in sheets.

Beside a small island:

“We’ll anchor here for the night to weather the storm and tend the wounded. All hands be cautious—anyone who hasn’t broken through twice, do not leave the ship!”

The deck had been scrubbed clean of blood, the bodies cast into the sea. In the hold, sailors hurried about as First Mate Bai Yuanji bellowed orders.

“The casualties are heavy,” Bai Xuan walked the corridors, somber.

In this battle, the Thousand Currents had fought the strong with the weak, carving a path through the fierce Starhunters. Thirty-seven pirates fell by their hand—they’d escaped death.

But their own losses were great as well: nine dead, twenty-six wounded, eleven of them gravely so.

Old Li, ever cautious, had hidden below decks and emerged unscathed.

If only I could have intervened sooner, slaughtered our foes aboard their ship, perhaps the toll would not have been so high, Bai Xuan thought. But he knew, alone—even with three breakthroughs—he could not turn the tide single-handedly. When the enemy attacked, there would always be casualties.

Even so, he’d played a crucial role, cutting down eleven enemies by himself. Many sailors owed their lives to his spear, but the weight of loss remained heavy in his heart.

“Boatswain!”

A young sailor, lying wounded, looked up and recognized Bai Xuan instantly. “You saved me out there, Boatswain! With one thrust, you took the enemy’s head!”

Awe shone in his eyes. For someone of his age, Bai Xuan was a living legend—so young, already boatswain, a hero time and again, strong enough to slay foes and save his comrades.

“Focus on your recovery, don’t get too excited,” Bai Xuan said solemnly.

He glanced down at the young man’s leg—everything below the knee was gone, the stump tightly bound, blood still seeping through the cloth.

A single stroke from the enemy had taken his leg. The next time they sailed, he would likely not be among them.

Blades and death showed no mercy at sea. Fate was everything, and no one cared.

Nearby, the ship’s doctor approached, face grave.

“Boatswain, we’re low on medicine. According to old charts, this island should have some herbs for bleeding and infection. We’ll need to send men ashore to gather them.”