Fedeler Sembawood felt his luck was truly remarkable. When the imperial civil war first broke out, he was merely a Silver One-Star Garrison Captain. He was then swept up by the First Prince's rebel forces and turned into a cannon-fodder company commander fighting on the front lines. Before long, he was wounded in a battle and left for dead. When he came to, he found corpses strewn everywhere and crows flitting about overhead.
It was then that he discovered Lord Gamuk's body lying on the ground not far from him, and the sight gave him a tremendous shock. Lord Gamuk had been the most renowned
Sembawood dragged his wounded leg and pulled himself over to Lord Gamuk's body, only to discover that a crudely whittled crossbow bolt — not very straight and rather rough — had pierced clean through Gamuk's throat. Sembawood was stunned. He never imagined the famous Gold Knight would be struck down by a stray arrow on the battlefield before he even had a chance to show what he could do. Lord Gamuk must have died with great regret — his death would be so obscure that even Sembawood ranked above him; at least Sembawood had taken down two enemies before he was wounded…
After lamenting for a while the unpredictability of fate, Sembawood had intended to dig a grave for Lord Gamuk out of fellow-townsmen sentiment, so the corpse wouldn't be left exposed to the crows and wild dogs. But while sorting through Gamuk's belongings, he discovered the man was practically a walking treasure trove. The fine refined-iron full-body armor went without saying — a bolt through the neck, yet the rest of the plate was completely intact. Sembawood couldn't help but marvel: just how bad must a person's luck be for a stray arrow to hit the single unprotected weak point on an entire suit of armor…
A large pouch of Imperial "Old Head" gold coins — three or four hundred of them — along with many exquisite pieces of jewelry and gemstones. One gold bracelet even still bore traces of dried blood, suggesting Lord Gamuk had made a nice little fortune when they seized that small town a couple of days ago. Sembawood just couldn't figure out why Gamuk would carry so much on his person — wasn't it a burden on the battlefield? But it didn't matter now. All of it had fallen to him.
What pleased Sembawood the most was finding a high-level
This Great Swordmaster had filled the Tempered Gold Combat Force manual he left to his family with his own insights and reflections, so that future generations could avoid taking wrong paths during cultivation. Sadly, none of his descendants had the same Combat Force attribute as him. It was hard enough for Gamuk to finally come along, but his greed for wealth and lust for women meant he had only managed to reach Gold Two-Star by the age of fifty or so.
Sembawood treasured the manual like a priceless artifact and immediately decided to desert. He found two stray warhorses nearby whose riders had been killed and were wandering aimlessly, stripped Lord Gamuk bare as a newborn baby, piled everything onto the horses, and left.
As a cannon-fodder company commander, Sembawood had picked up some intelligence about the war. He was smart enough not to be foolish enough to run straight home — he'd only be dragged right back into the battlefield before long. With two horses in tow, he headed for the coast and built himself a small thatched hut in the barren wilderness near the Sorrowing Ocean. He hunted for food on most days, or else spent half a day riding to a nearby town to buy grain, then returned home to train diligently in Tempered Gold Combat Force. In times of chaos, having formidable skills was the foundation of survival.
Sembawood sometimes felt he was the real protagonist of one of those chivalric romance novels. He'd already had his encounter of fortune, and a romantic one wasn't far behind. Three years later, at the age of twenty-seven, he finally broke through to Silver Three-Star on his birthday. He decided to go buy some wine to celebrate, and on his way back, he found an unconscious beauty lying by the roadside.
Just like the novels described, the beauty who awakened carried a deep and bloody family vendetta. As it turned out, in the hills just two days' travel from where Sembawood lived, there was a bandit den. Though the correct term for these bandits was pirates — they plied their robbery trade at sea and rarely visited the interior, which was why Sembawood had no idea he was living next door to pirates.
The beauty was the sole daughter of the pirates' original boss. "Original" because the second-in-command and third-in-command had jointly cut down her father over an unfair split of the loot. The third-in-command had even wanted to stoop a generation lower and become the dead boss's son-in-law. Fortunately, the dead boss had cultivated a following of loyal men who ambushed the third-in-command on the wedding night, just as the beauty was about to be ravaged. A great brawl erupted. Wounded and pursued in the chaos, the beauty fled blindly until she could go no further and collapsed — only to be scooped up by Sembawood.
For the beauty's sake, Sembawood drew his sword and set forth on the path of vengeance. He had heard that the pirates fielded only four Silver-rank fighters: the dead boss at Silver Two-Star, and the second-in-command, the third-in-command, and a man called Uncle Torlin, all at Silver One-Star. It was Uncle Torlin who had ambushed the third-in-command. Now only one enemy remained — the Silver One-Star second-in-command. If Sembawood didn't seize this opportunity, he wasn't the clever man everyone thought.
Everything went smoothly. Sembawood quickly defeated the pirate second-in-command, allowing the beauty to claim her revenge. The remaining pirates knelt and pledged their allegiance. With Uncle Torlin's help, they reorganized the pirate stronghold, and Sembawood became the new pirate boss, with the beauty as his woman.
In the blink of an eye, ten years had passed. Sembawood now had two sons and a daughter, and his life was happy and fulfilling — though his career had hit a few rough patches.
As the pirate boss, Sembawood fully understood the principle that the early bird catches the worm, but the early worm gets eaten by the bird. He was extremely cautious about his seafaring robberies. Even when he did set out, he targeted only smuggling vessels or lone merchant ships, never touching the vessels of major trading houses or nobles. He kept his head down, made his fortune in secret, and never drew attention to himself.
Over the past decade, the pirate stronghold had developed rapidly and looked increasingly like an ordinary fishing village, with a population exceeding a thousand. Sembawood hadn't kept his eyes fixed solely on robbery. He recruited refugees to farm and graze on the barren hillside, ensuring the pirates no longer needed to buy grain from the outside. He also arranged for the elderly, women, and children to gather firewood and boil seawater to produce salt. He even organized trading caravans, using surplus sea salt and looted goods to exchange for supplies the village desperately needed. When a chance arose at sea, they'd make a score; when it didn't, they'd honestly fish to feed their families. Life was exceedingly comfortable.
But Sembawood kept a clear head. He knew that in legal terms, this pirate stronghold — even if it had grown into an ordinary fishing village — could only be classified as an unregistered settlement. During the current chaos, they were safe enough, but once the political situation stabilized, whether it was the local lord or the regular army, they would have both the right and the duty to come and suppress them. When that day arrived, all the peaceful and tranquil scenes before his eyes would be reduced to blood, fire, and ash.
Moreover, this pirate stronghold's location was not particularly well-hidden; many people outside knew of it, and the terrain was not defensible. It was simply situated near the coast—one, because it was remote, and two, because the hilly landscape made roads difficult to traverse. The ruling lord couldn't be bothered to turn his attention here; after all, the pirates never raided the villages in his domain.
This stretch of hills belonged to Count Shelaihe's territory on the maps. Count Shelaihe had originally been a regiment commander in the former empire, but during the civil war, he led his troops to follow Grand Duke Ruorm, helping to establish the Duchy of Ruorm. As a reward, he was promoted from Baron to Count and granted this territory.
Count Shelaihe's domain contained three villages and one town, all concentrated in the south. The north consisted of hills, wastelands, forests, and tidal flats. Two years ago, Sembawood had contacted this lord, hoping to gain his recognition and legalize the fishing village. To that end, he was willing to become the Count's knight and pay a large sum in taxes.
Unfortunately, Count Shelaihe held an important position within the Duchy of Ruorm and was rarely present in his territory. Sembawood's letter fell into the hands of the Steward managing the domain. This Steward cared nothing for Sembawood's pirate background or the fact that he was only a Silver Three-star—his own master was a Gold Knight, after all, so a Silver-tier pirate was hardly significant.
What the Steward focused on was how much revenue he could add for the Count. But for Sembawood, a tax rate as high as sixty-five percent was unbearable. Even more unacceptable was the Steward's demand to send people to station in the fishing village to more easily track everyone's income for tax collection.
Sembawood's bottom line was fifty percent, paid voluntarily by the village. The Steward refused and threatened to have the Count send troops to suppress them. Sembawood countered in kind, stating that if the Count sent soldiers, he would scatter his men and use guerrilla tactics among the hills, dragging out a prolonged conflict. He wanted to see what price the Count was willing to pay to eliminate them. As long as they survived, they would continue to raid villages, and turning the Count's domain into ruins was certainly within their power.
The two sides were thus at a stalemate, forced to tacitly acknowledge each other's capabilities. The Steward turned a blind eye to the trading caravans dispatched by the fishing village, allowing them the convenience to travel door-to-door and conduct business in towns. In return, Sembawood reciprocated; on holidays, he would send generous gifts to the Steward and Count Shelaihe, and for the time being, both parties coexisted peacefully.
Finally, two months ago, an opportunity arose. Because Sembawood had advanced to Gold One-star, Count Shelaihe, far away in the duchy's capital, heard the news and personally wrote a letter to Sembawood. In it, the Count promised to recruit Sembawood as his Family Knight and to designate the area around the fishing village as the estate and castle seat for Sembawood as a Gold Knight. Of course, the estate and castle would have to be built by Sembawood himself. The Count was quite frank, stating he had no money to help with the construction.
There were still benefits, however. By becoming a Gold Knight of the Shelaihe family, the fishing village's people would become residents of Sembawood's estate and castle, and henceforth only need to pay a thirty percent tax rate. However, Count Shelaihe required that Sembawood must travel to the capital and serve at his side. As soon as Sembawood arrived, the Count would immediately hold the ceremony to recruit his Family Knight and announce Sembawood's knightly status.
In the end, the world was one where martial strength reigned supreme. Just as Sembawood thought during his daily rigorous training, possessing great skill and mastering a higher level of battle energy was the foundation of survival in this chaotic era.
Sembawood thought about it for over a month before deciding to accept the Count's invitation to become a Family Knight of the Shelaihe family. However, he couldn't just leave on a whim. At the very least, he had to arrange his subordinates and choose a suitable location to build his own estate and castle. Of course, Sembawood only intended to mark out a perimeter, place a few stones, and casually dig a ditch to give the appearance of construction, since he simply didn't have the financial means to build an estate and castle entirely on his own.
Two days ago, Sembawood received a letter from the Steward. It said that in about twenty days, it would be Count Shelaihe's fiftieth birthday, and the Count hoped to have Sembawood become his Family Knight on that day, adding a celebratory note to his own birthday. The Steward also casually reminded him of the Count's usual hobbies, implying that Sembawood needed to prepare a generous gift.
Sembawood wasn't exactly flush with cash, and more importantly, he didn't have a suitable gift. So he turned his gaze back to the sea, planning to make a big score out on the water before he left for the capital to become Count Shelaihe's Family Knight. That way, his wife and children would be able to live more comfortably after his departure...
"Boss, there are two ships tangled up ahead. One is a medium-sized, two-masted fast-sailing merchant ship, and the other looks strange. It seems to be a medium-sized ship too, but it's in bad shape, like one of its masts got burned off. Now they're tied together and moving really slow. Should we chase them down and have a go?" The speaker was Tocck, a big, burly man at Silver Two-star. He looked much more like a pirate than his father, Uncle Tolin.
Sembawood nodded. It was obvious those two ships had just finished a fight or a robbery. Such things weren't uncommon in the Sorrowful Sea. From the looks of it, the victor had tied the loser's ship together, intending to tow it back. He might as well play the mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.
Boarding the strange ship went incredibly smoothly. There was no resistance, not a single shout. They didn't even see a soul. The only ones present were a few people on the deckhouse of that weird ship. They paid no attention to the swarm of pirates boarding the vessel, minding their own business. One young man, who looked very young, even put a finger to his lips and shushed them, signaling for the pirates to be quiet...
Sembawood had brought two medium-sized, two-masted square-rigged armed merchant ships. These ships were quite fast downwind, capable of reaching speeds of eight to nine knots, but sailing against the wind was more challenging and tested the helmsman's skill. However, they were powerfully armed, could carry a large crew, and were perfect for boarding actions to seize other vessels.
The two armed merchant ships carried nearly three hundred and thirty pirates. At this moment, close to a hundred had jumped onto the strange ship, packing its deck full.
On the deckhouse of the strange ship was a small table, covered with all kinds of animal-hide parchment and pens. A young man with long black hair tied in a ponytail was lecturing a middle-aged man whose face was etched with the hardships of life: "...Why did I have you write down the formulas and production processes for green glass and oil glass and throw them out as bait? Because in my eyes, those two things are mass-market goods, nothing interesting. Look here—this is a telescope, and this is a glass silver mirror. These are the real money-makers. And these magnifying lenses, glass instruments, large flat glass panes, thickened window panes... you can even etch patterns into glass. This is the future direction of glass development...
Mr. Manchenie, you now have a general understanding of my various designs and ideas for glass. Once we get your family to our clan's territory, you will be fully in charge of the clan's glass production and manufacturing. You'll get whatever personnel you need, whatever funds you require. We will provide you with everything necessary. You can freely verify and experiment with any improvements you wish to make. Don't worry about the cost. I believe this investment will yield a hundredfold return to our clan in the future..."
Sembawood was dizzy listening from beneath the gangway. What on earth was all this? Glass production, technical improvements — it all sounded far too sophisticated and grand, leaving him simultaneously confused and vaguely impressed. And something about the situation in front of him felt terribly off, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what…
He was just about to order his men to exercise more caution, to check whether there might be an ambush or something of the sort, when the young man with long black hair on the gangway turned around, flashed a set of perfectly white teeth, and grinned cheerfully at them.
"You took far too long — the waiting was really starting to get to me," the black-haired young man said with a smile. "I drifted across the Sorrowing Sea for two days before I managed to hook a single little shrimp."
The black-haired young man jerked his chin toward a mid-sized, two-masted fast-sailing merchant ship moored nearby. "But this batch of yours is decent — plenty of people, ships in good shape. I'm quite pleased."
The black-haired young man rose to his feet. "I am Count
Then he pointed casually, his finger landing squarely on Sembawood. "You look promising. From this moment on, you are my sea assault captain…"
…(To be continued.)