Pirate Kingship

Even in a Supernatural World, one must follow basic rules.

Alfred 'Blood-Red Whiskey', after downing a large quantity of high-proof whiskey and achieving a power burst, found his energy consumption naturally skyrocketed.

Heart racing, breath quickening.

As he cleaved a Storm Battle Axe in one swing, his vigorous inhalation immediately drew a significant amount of white powder into his body.

The alcoholic fumes around him gradually dissipated, and the blood that had coursed like high-velocity steam was abruptly brought to a screeching halt.

His eyes unfocused, he struggled to fix his gaze on Byron, one shaking finger raised.

"As an upright and honorable swordsman, you actually... you actually resorted to such trickery?

You're just as unscrupulous as those scoundrels who seized Tayman Brak Island.

You bastard! Without the selfless focus that comes from an unwavering belief in your own success, you... you'll never reach the state of Flow State!"

With that, he collapsed to the ground with a THUD, completely drained of strength.

Byron advanced with his two companions, kicked the Fischer Slash Sword from Alfred's hand, and kindly corrected him, "Wrong. Though you've successfully mastered Flow State, your understanding of swordsmanship is far too shallow.

How could swordsmanship be so restrictive?

After all these years practicing the sword, haven't you ever heard the principle that 'anything can be a sword'?

If anything can be a sword, then why can't firearms, chili powder, lime powder, and sleeping drugs also be swords?

This is discrimination! Blatant discrimination against us 'Firearm Swordsmen' and 'Sleeping Drug Swordsmen'!"

Byron then turned to Catherine and Bruh, who had fought alongside him, and earnestly asked, "Actually, I think that besides the Gun Drawing Technique as an opening move, using quicklime with a Storm Battle Axe in a swordsmanship duel is quite cost-effective. Don't you agree?"

Clearly, he had experienced a moment of enlightenment, significantly advancing his understanding of swordsmanship.

Apart from the Gun Drawing Technique, a skill that could compete for the title of the fastest gunslinger, he had grasped another set of sophisticated sword techniques.

"Hmm, quicklime is cheap and effective, much better than chili powder or loess soil," Catherine first commended, then her lips curled into a dangerous smile as she said, "However, little brother, can you explain to your big sister just where you got this potent sleeping drug? And what exactly were you planning to do with it?"

Byron's smile gradually faded from his face.

"That, uh... ah, hahaha..."

He only managed to smooth things over by promising to share half of his spoils with her.

Looking at Alfred 'Blood-Red Whiskey' on the ground, he had already fallen into a deep slumber.

Yet his mouth kept mumbling, "Anything can be a sword, anything can be a sword..."

According to the Sailing Logbook's assessment, the potent sleeping drug prepared by the old Priest could knock out even a massive bear, let alone a human.

Byron turned his gaze to the harbor, where the Musketeer Corps had successfully landed, along with his own pirates and sailors.

He also saw the attacking pirates who, upon witnessing their captain's defeat, had thrown down their weapons and surrendered, huddling together like frightened quails.

His smile slowly faded, replaced by a somber expression. "As my role shifts from pirate captain to colonial Governor, the endless stream of pirates has become one of the most troublesome issues for the Grenville territory.

But in these waters, only we are permitted to 'collect taxes,' whether by violent or non-violent means.

Let's set a small goal first: to become... the largest pirate force in the surrounding seas!"

「Subsequently.」

The welcome banquet held by the island's inhabitants was somewhat lackluster. Byron searched carefully but found no individuals of remarkable talent.

It was to be expected, really. If there truly had been any extraordinary individuals, they most likely would have found a way to flee the island within the past two months.

Moreover, the earth-shattering battle among four Transcendents had thoroughly intimidated the islanders; no foolhardy troublemaker dared to step forward and cause problems.

Countess Catherine, the new Lady of the territory, and Governor Byron offered a few words of encouragement to the Pioneers, and then life returned to normal.

Those who felled trees continued to do so; those who fished carried on.

They would wait until they had a clearer understanding of the situation before implementing any sweeping reforms.

Byron reassembled his core armed forces, which were currently his greatest asset for establishing a firm foothold overseas.

A Bloodthirsty Dragon Pirate Flag was planted beside him, fluttering in the wind.

"Report, Captain! The Golden Deer, fully crewed with 102 men, all present and accounted for!"

"Report, Governor! The Osprey, fully crewed with 51 men, all present and accounted for!"

"Report, Governor! The Sparrow, fully crewed with 49 men, all present and accounted for!"

Gathered around him were not only the crew of the Golden Deer but also the sailors from the Grenville family's ships.

To maximize cargo capacity, merchant ships typically had far fewer sailors than pirate ships.

The crews of the Osprey and the Sparrow combined numbered as many as that of the Golden Deer, but in terms of personnel quality, they were by no means inferior.

This was largely thanks to the Lancaster Family.

To catch the wave of the Great Nautical Age and secure enough deep-sea sailors, the Kings of Lancaster had enacted the "Fish Act."

The act stipulated that during Lent and every Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, meat consumption was forbidden; fish had to be eaten instead, under penalty of a 3-pound fine or three months' imprisonment.

By instituting the Fish Act, the populace ate fish, which expanded the Fishing Industry and cultivated a large number of sailors. The prosperity of the fish trade, in turn, drove the development of shipbuilding.

The strength of the shipbuilding industry then boosted the shipping industry, consequently multiplying naval power.

The foundation of a maritime nation's strength lay with these very ordinary sailors.

They had not deserted when Catherine was under house arrest for a month, remaining steadfastly loyal to their lady throughout the long-distance voyage.

Undoubtedly, they were reliable men.

During their time together, Byron had also gotten to know each of them.

The oldest was not even thirty-five, and all possessed potential worth cultivating.

Byron now had money, Spices, and Blood Brew. Gathering their strength to form a core team was definitely not an issue.

He also had enough ships: the Golden Deer, two merchant ships, a brigantine seized from Tayman Brak Island, and two pirate vessels formerly under Blood-Red Whiskey, totaling six sailboats.

It was gradually beginning to resemble a Privateer Fleet.

Byron produced the hefty, hundred-page volume of the Pirate's Ten Commandments and had every merchant sailor sign and press their handprint on it.

As usual, he employed his silver tongue, painting a grand and enticing picture for the new crew members.

He particularly pointed to the ninth commandment, "Merit Shall Be Rewarded," and declared with impassioned fervor, "Many of you may doubt whether we can grow strong and prosper while surrounded by old Nobility, established powers, colonial companies... these packs of wolves.

"But you must understand that between the bones and prime beef, there are still hides, meat scraps, sinew, and lesser cuts—parts that these major powers disdain. These are more than enough for us to build our strength in the initial stages.

"Many among us don't realize that in this turbulent Great Nautical Age, there are unprecedented opportunities for the lower classes. Its favor doesn't lie in being gentle to the common folk, but in being equally ruthless to the descendants of Nobility!

"You should have all heard, during your month-long voyage with the Long-range Fleet, about the batch of noble youths who attempted to conquer Banta'an ten years ago..."

In Hightins' royal colony of Jamestown, 92 descendants of Hightins' Nobility, accompanied by their servants, had arrived at once.

All were younger sons or others without inheritance rights.

Dressed in silk stockings, gold-trimmed hats, and sashes embroidered with their crests, they stepped into this vast world full of ambition.

However, although noble education rarely produced absolute incompetents, what they had learned in their lifetime seemed ill-suited to the changes of the times. Whether it was lumbering, farming, or robbing, they weren't adept at any of it.

Soon, some were so destitute they resorted to boiling the starch from the stiff, elaborate collars of their formal attire to make porridge.

Less than five years later, the grass on the graves of these noble descendants stood three meters tall.

After Lighthouse Weekly reported on their plight, a public outcry ensued.

"Yes, we are in no way inferior to the descendants of those noble lords!"

With such real-life examples before them, the sailors' eyes lit up one after another.

"Many people hear rumors and think the lives of noble descendants are easy, but that's not the case.

Noble heirs enjoy high-quality material and educational resources for the first half of their lives, but all this serves a purpose.

One day, they must be able to manage everything their forebears left behind: reputation, status, domains, Wealth, Miracles, Sacred Relics...

These are things everyone covets.

They appear glamorous, but are fraught with peril, eyed by countless predatory beasts that would devour one whole.

And that includes us, the Evil Dragons of the sea!"

Byron raised the Bloodthirsty Dragon Pirate Flag, his voice growing more impassioned, "Nature's law is fair. For the Nobility and powerful clans, each succession often marks a decline.

"Look at the nobles on the Old Continent. After their ancestors established their legacies, how many descendants managed to surpass their forebears' achievements?

"Every major upheaval means a reshuffling of the deck.

"The Nobility and the powerful are destined to weaken with each generation, until finally the Crown falls, only to be picked up by the next trailblazer, starting a new cycle.

"Their noble fathers had great renown; we will forge our own empire with our own hands!

"Wealth, Power, knowledge, honor, fame... it's all out there on the vast sea.

"This is the worst of times, but it is also the best of times!

"The torrent of the era surges forward, and we are the ones riding its crest. So tell me, why can't it be us who wins this time?"

Of course, the words above were intended for the like-minded individuals in the crowd, those who could be molded.

What truly won over ordinary pirates was cold, hard cash.

As he finished speaking, Byron kicked over a treasure chest beside him.

Countless Gold Coins poured out with a CLATTERING RUSH.

"Now, let's divide the spoils! We'll follow the tenth commandment, with the first mate presiding."

Commandment Ten stated: All loot must not be hoarded privately. The captain takes 15%. Pirate officers, assault teams, carpenters, doctors, and cooks get 25%. Regular crew members get 40%. The remaining 20% serves as a maintenance fund and communal savings.

Byron's principles were: results define outcomes, individual accountability, process checks, and immediate incentives.

If spoils could be divided on the spot, it would never be delayed until the next day.

"HURRAY! HURRAY!..."

"Sea Hunters!"

"Evil Dragon! Evil Dragon!"

A feasible vision combined with the allure of readily attainable riches had whipped the crew into such a frenzy that they seemed ready to offer him their very hearts.

Others only made empty promises, but he delivered.

From now on, this warship is my home! Don't even treat me as human anymore!

Amidst the deafening cheers, Byron leaped down from the platform and walked towards the newly filled dungeons within his territory.

There was another group of people who required his personal attention.

More importantly, the Sailing Logbook clearly documented the origins of Alfred 'Blood-Red Whiskey'—the Bloodthirsty Cult!

He recalled the Transcendent theory from the Crystal Skull, one that could touch the 'realm of God.' The 'Divinity' representing the Ladder of Glory, the 'Beastliness' representing forbidden knowledge, and the 'Flow State' that unified everything—all served as evidence for this theory's correctness.

His heart burned with renewed intensity.