Chapter 610 Fear

Yorkshaw, thirty-nine years old, was an adventurer.

Well... strictly speaking, he only counted as half of one.

After all, it had been a long time since he had properly taken a quest at the Adventurers' Association.

Twelve years ago, he had suffered unimaginable hardships just to scrape together a Class Level. Since then, his age had climbed while his strength stagnated. The dreams and aspirations he once held for the adventurer's path had melted into gold coins on the gambling table and alcohol in his gut, completely cast aside.

Like most bottom-tier adventurers whose upward mobility had hit a dead end, he had completely devolved into a walking corpse driven solely by his desires. Still, Yorkshaw considered himself lucky. Before his professional bottleneck could restrict him to death, he had managed to use his years of accumulation to push his Class Level to Level 3. He had even built up a decent network of connections with the various factions operating around Salt Rock Port. Right now, he commanded a fleet centered around himself and two other Level 1 Class Holders—a crew that supposedly handled commercial trade and cargo transport, but actually ran pirate operations.

Between his legitimate and illicit income, he was making even more money than he had during his early days struggling at sea.

Yorkshaw was quite satisfied with this.

He planned to save up a solid nest egg before he turned fifty, then retire to his hometown to enjoy his old age. Considering he had hatched this plan at thirty and had barely any savings to show for nine years of work, retiring at fifty was clearly a bit unrealistic.

He knew this perfectly well.

It was just that sometimes, after returning from a voyage, he found it hard to convince himself to keep risking his life at sea if he didn't indulge in a little reward. Fortunately, things seemed to be taking a turn for the better.

"Boss, we tried feeding it some seaweed. That thing might not be big, but it can really eat. It polished off a large basket in no time," a crew member with wet sleeves reported, stepping forward.

"It's just seaweed. Let it eat as much as it wants, just make sure it doesn't starve to death."

Yorkshaw furrowed his brows, his expression serious as he instructed the crew member beside him. "Remind the brothers on board a few more times. We're about to return to Salt Rock Port. Don't leak the news and stir up trouble. When we sell this thing, everyone on the ship gets a cut!"

'Of course they would get a cut... even if it was only five percent of the total profit.'

Naturally, he couldn't say that last thought out loud. He waved his hand, dismissing the crew member to head down to the cabin and continue taking care of his treasure.

Yorkshaw gripped the railing with both hands, slightly lost in thought.

What he had just solemnly discussed with the crew member was the unexpected harvest he had acquired on this voyage.

A small monster with a blue metallic spiral shell and long, octopus-like tentacles.

Coincidentally, he had personally fished this monster out of a bay on a remote, deserted island. Although its cries were a bit shrill, it had practically no ability to fight back.

Yorkshaw had never seen a similar creature. At first, he had even assumed it was an ordinary wild beast with a bizarre appearance.

That was until a crew member suddenly recognized it, mentioning that he had seen an identical metal shell at a small auction in Barracuda Bay a few years ago.

The man had long forgotten the detailed introduction of the monster itself, but its selling price had left a deep impression on him.

It had only been slightly larger than the one they currently held, yet it had auctioned for nearly four figures in gold coins.

Even for a Class Holder like Yorkshaw, such an amount of gold coins was undoubtedly a huge sum.

With that kind of income, if he reined in his spending a bit, it could very well serve as the seed money for his retirement plan. To maximize their profits from this catch, he had immediately decided to bring the crew back to Salt Rock Port.

Once there, he would leverage the connections he had built over the years to ask around and see if he could find a channel to sell the monster.

If that failed, he could always make a trip to Barracuda Bay.

Between the round trip and time to rest, it would take two months at most. If it really brought in a four-figure sum of gold coins, the effort would more than pay off. Yorkshaw stood at the edge of the deck, pondering his next steps.

Suddenly, a warning shout from the lookout overhead snapped his attention back to reality.

"Northwest! Ship spotted!"

Taking a spyglass from a crew member, Yorkshaw carefully examined the medium-sized ship sailing in the distance.

A hesitant look flickered across his face.

One thing was certain: the ship that had suddenly appeared nearby was definitely not a merchant vessel.

He could tell just by looking at its low, dagger-like profile, which was completely unsuited for hauling cargo.

So, was it an adventurer like himself, or a pirate?

He evaluated it purely from the perspective of potential plunder.

To a certain extent, an adventurer's or pirate's ship held even more value than a standard merchant vessel.

If one could take down such a ship, it meant a large amount of Fine equipment available for salvage.

If he got a little lucky and bumped into fellow pirates who had just finished a raid, he could simply rob the robbers and walk away with a payout far beyond the norm. If Yorkshaw could just suppress his desires and think completely rationally right now, however...

He knew he shouldn't invite extra trouble.

After all, his ship wasn't just carrying loot plundered from the homes of nearby islanders; it was also holding that strange monster that was practically guaranteed to fetch a massive price.

But...

Although saying this might be a bit of a stereotype...

Adventurers were just like this.

Once they earned a single gold coin, they wanted ten; once they had ten, they gritted their teeth and aimed for a hundred.

As for the potential risks... who in the adventuring business didn't understand the unspoken rule that gold equated to danger? He had joined the trade at sixteen, and he was now thirty-nine.

He had worn the title of adventurer for twenty-three years.

Scraping by at the bottom, Yorkshaw had long been marinated in the twisted ethos of this industry.

"Bring the ship closer. Don't get too close just yet, let me see what's going on," he called out to the crew member beside him, licking his dry lips.

He still had enough reason left not to go all in right away.

Yorkshaw was confident in the outstanding performance of his pirate ship, a vessel he had exhausted half his life's savings to afford.

He planned to close in first and take a look at the situation on the opposite deck.

If it was a fully armed Adventurer Squad, they would immediately turn the rudder and flee; under normal circumstances, the other party wouldn't be able to catch them.

But if it turned out to be an easy mark, then as a Professional Warrior who posed as an adventurer while running pirate jobs, he certainly wouldn't mind speeding up his retirement plans.

They were all veteran crew members who had worked together for years.

With a single command, the entire ship sped rapidly toward the unfamiliar vessel in the distance.

It was a bit strange.

At first, Yorkshaw's ship seemed to hold a speed advantage, rapidly closing the distance between the two vessels.

But once the gap narrowed to a rather ambiguous distance, no matter how they adjusted the sails to accelerate, they couldn't draw any closer. It gave Yorkshaw the creeping, bizarre sensation that the other party was actually intentionally maintaining the distance, using this time to observe them across the water.

Fortunately, it was most likely just an illusion.

As the sea breeze gradually shifted, the sails billowed outward, instantly boosting their ship's speed by a large margin. The gap between them rapidly closed.

And Yorkshaw finally got his wish to observe the situation on the opposite ship.

First, the most eye-catching thing was naturally the figurehead at the bow, shaped like a roaring, pouncing wolf.

Obviously, it was no ordinary item.

That delicate, unique material texture, as well as the lifelike carving technique... if it had a couple of attached special abilities, this single figurehead alone would probably be more expensive than another crew's entire ship.

A hint of unease surfaced in his mind.

Then, there was the black-haired young man standing at the very front, wearing reddish metal armor.

Actually, if Yorkshaw were swapped out right now for any adventurer in Barracuda Bay with even a slight habit of gathering intelligence...

Seeing that wolf figurehead and pairing it with traits like "young," "black-haired," and "dual swords," they would likely have recognized Xia Nan's identity as "Sea Fang" on the spot.

But Salt Rock Port and Barracuda Bay were far apart after all; one was located in the south of the continent, and the other was on the eastern coast of the kingdom.

With a one-way voyage of nearly twenty days, even though both were port cities, news barely circulated between them.

For the adventurers of Salt Rock Port, they probably only knew the name "Sea Fang" and had heard some exceptionally outrageous tales that had grown distorted after being passed around so many times.

As for Xia Nan's physical appearance, very few people knew about it.

Yorkshaw naturally couldn't recognize that the "Sea Fang" currently in the limelight across the Southern Archipelagos was standing right before him.

But having struggled at sea for so many years, he still had some ability to judge people.

Yorkshaw could tell that on the deck of the ship in front of him, there was only one adventurer; in terms of numbers, it was far inferior to his side. Yet, with just a few hasty glances, he almost instantly perceived the dark sense of danger radiating from this young adventurer, judging by his full set of custom-forged equipment and the steady, condensed aura he exuded.

His heart suddenly skipped a beat.

Yorkshaw immediately roared at the crew members behind him manning the helm and sails. "Retreat! Retreat!"

The reaction of this adventurer moonlighting as a pirate could be said to be quite swift.

Unfortunately, it was too late.

Xia Nan possessed a higher Perception attribute and far superior eyesight.

Long before Yorkshaw drew close enough to size up the Wave-Chasing Sea Fang, Xia Nan had already finished evaluating the overall strength of the enemy crew. As for speed, the Wave-Chasing Sea Fang had originally been retrofitted from the Flying Fish Oil Barrel Ship, making it a sleek vessel built for mobility. Following its recent modifications and repairs, it had also been outfitted with the parting gift from the Blade of Vengeance—the [Wave-Chasing Sea Fang] figurehead—granting it a 15% boost to sailing speed.

This was exactly why Yorkshaw had felt unable to catch up earlier.

And now, as the predatory hunter transformed into panicking, fleeing prey, the [Wave-Chasing Sea Fang] triggered its pursuit effect: an escalating speed bonus that capped at 20% when chasing down enemies.

Crash!

The surging waves were violently shattered by the hull of the rapidly advancing ship, bursting into a shower of crystalline spray.

Also originating from the [Wave-Chasing Sea Fang] figurehead, the fierce winds squeezing through the gaps of the Wolf's Maw were compressed into a long, haunting wail resembling a wolf's howl, invisibly sapping the enemy's morale.

"It's no use, Boss!"

"They... they're too fast! We can't pull away at all!"

An indescribably suffocating pressure seemed to make the air on the deck freeze.

Under the mental strain of the howling sound, the morale of the weaker-willed crew members plummeted to rock bottom, and their voices even began to carry a sobbing tone.

Knowing that they had probably provoked huge trouble, Yorkshaw was under immense psychological pressure.

Hearing such demoralizing words, he glared, ready to shout a reprimand.

But his mouth had only just opened.

Accompanied by a sudden, twisting blur of pitch-black shadows, the tall figure standing on the opposite deck—whom he had been staring directly at—suddenly vanished.

"What was that?"

"Where is he!?"

In the next second, a mournful, drawn-out wolf's howl that was far deeper than the wind noise emitted by the figurehead, as if coming from hell, exploded on the deck, wrapped in a biting gale filled with killing intent.

They were still quite a distance apart, nowhere near boarding range.

But the adventurer, incarnated as a black wolf phantom, had already landed on the enemy ship.

His Class Level having reached Level 4, his actual physical attributes, under various bonuses, had reached a level far surpassing ordinary adventurers.

Even though Yorkshaw was seemingly only one level lower than Xia Nan, the actual gap in power was far more massive than the divide between an ordinary person and a Class Holder.

Facing Xia Nan's charge, Yorkshaw was completely unable to react. He couldn't even track the man's movements, catching only a fleeting glimpse of a pitch-black afterimage in the air.

When he subconsciously turned his head to look back, prompted by the panicked cries, shouts of pain, and shrill wails coming from behind him...

The crew members, who had originally been lined up in formation and holding their weapons ready for battle, had already been completely routed.

The area-of-effect intimidation from the [Night Mother's Gaze], amplified by the [Wave-Chasing Sea Fang] figurehead, was unleashed to its maximum potential. On the entire pirate ship, aside from the three Class Holders including Yorkshaw, the mental defenses of all the remaining pirates instantly collapsed.

"Ah!!!"

"Gah!"

Mangled flesh, internal organs, and severed limbs—shredded by the astral winds accompanying [Fang Hunt]—scattered across the blood-soaked deck.

The sailors threw down their weapons, their throats letting out comical shrieks like chickens.

Some abandoned all reason, vaulting straight over the deck's railing to jump into the sea; others acted like frightened animals, instinctively seeking out narrow, dark corners for a sense of security as they crowded and scrambled into the cabin.

And right in the center of the deck, the black-haired man clad in reddish metal armor hadn't even unsheathed the two longswords on his back.

Those terrifying, pitch-black eyes, freezing cold and utterly devoid of emotion, shifted slightly, sweeping darkly over the three Class Holders around him. Wanting to test his newly acquired abilities in actual combat, his sharp Perception allowed him to make a final check and confirm there was no real threat.

Then, his right hand lifted slightly, brushing past his waist.

Named [Honey Tangerine], the pink crystalline Short Dagger was slowly drawn from its leather sheath.