Chapter 330: Silverport and the Rule of Money With the outstanding speed of the energy stone engines under the ship’s bottom, the sea journey

that originally required twelve days’ travel was shortened down to exactly five days.

On the morning of the fifth day, as the thick fog on the Eastern sea surface just dissipated under the dawn light, a giant and most bustling port city of the Great World appeared before everyone’s eyes on the ship’s deck.

That was Silverport, the capital of the Seven Autonomous Cities alliance.

Completely unlike the gloomy, stifling, and lighting oil-deprived appearance of the Cathalan Royal Capital, the entire Silverport was built consecutively on pure white granite steps along the mountain slope facing the bay.

Hundreds of large and small merchant ships from all countries were moored tightly packed at twelve endlessly long docks. On the vast wide stone-paved streets, the luxurious castles of the merchant bosses, casinos, brothels, and trading floors were brightly lit with magic lights even in the middle of the day.

However, hidden beneath that glamorous prosperous shell was an atmosphere reeking of blood and copper coin smells.

Right at the giant stone archway leading into dock number one, people cast a huge pure gold sign suspended in mid-air with two text lines striking straight into the eyes of any newcomer:

[In Silverport, as long as you have enough gold, even a Deity’s life can be bought outright.]

[If you have no gold, even the breath in your chest is a borrowed item!]

Along both sides of dock number three not far away, dozens of large iron cages were currently being hoisted from the ship holds up to the shore by the porter crowd using cranes.

Inside those cramped iron cages were packed full of people belonging to the Beastman, Dwarf, and Goblin clans, and even human girls currently being locked tightly at the wrists and ankles by iron chains. The prison guards holding salt-soaked leather whips lashed straight onto the bodies of anyone walking slowly. The sound of whips cracking in the wind mixed with the noisy laughing and bargaining sounds of the merchants standing on the shore, exactly like buying and selling piglets and calves at the market.

The girl Ivy stood by the ship’s rail watching that scene, her small hands gripping the wooden railing tightly to the point of turning completely pale white, her eyes bloodshot with hatred.

Meanwhile, the leopard cub Finnick sitting on Kaelen’s shoulder had stood up straight on four legs since when, his soft fur bristling up, his dark green eyes staring intently toward Auction Island isolated in the middle of the bay.

[Papa, Daddy.]

Finnick used mental voice transmission speaking softly into Kaelen’s and Sane’s ears: [Underground of that island over there, I sense very clearly there are at least over one thousand eight hundred Elf clan members currently being imprisoned. Their life auras are very weak, especially there are thirty-two people on the top floor having just had their blood drawn within the past day!]

Kaelen reached up stroking lightly his son’s bristling fur to calm him, his gaze when looking toward that island had also become sharp like a razor: "These beasts are truly preparing goods for the Blood Moon Auction session the day after tomorrow."

Right at this moment, the Lyra delegation’s black merchant ship docked into dock number one, the area reserved exclusively for grand caravans.

Just dropping the anchor down into the water, a short fat man wearing a gaudy gold thread embroidered silk outfit, all ten fingers wearing fully gemstone rings, led a mercenary squad carrying large broadswords swaggering stepping over before the gangplank.

This guy was named Vargas, the tax collection manager of dock number one, also a nephew of one of the Twelve Merchants heading Silverport.

Vargas looked up with his beady eyes at the huge glossy black merchant ship he had never seen before, then again saw Kaelen and Sane in luxurious outfits stepping down from the ship’s stairs. His two eyes immediately lit up brightly with greed.

Especially when seeing Kaelen’s extraordinarily handsome, transcendent appearance along with the leopard cub having a beautiful spotted fur coat currently lounging on his shoulder, the fat guy’s saliva almost spilled out from his mouth corners.

"Halt!" Vargas jerked his chin up, using the jewel-studded short cane in his hand pointing straight into Kaelen’s group’s faces: "Which caravan’s ship is this? Not yet having the membership card of the Seven Cities Merchant Council yet daring to arbitrarily dock into dock number one huh? Wanting to park the ship here then immediately hand over one thousand gold coins for port entry fee, simultaneously leave that small pet leopard on your shoulder behind as a tribute gift for this manager!"

The mercenary crowd standing behind Vargas simultaneously burst into obnoxious laughter:

"Hey there young master, if you regret that pet then you can personally enter the office room drinking tea with our manager Vargas for one night is also fine you know, ha ha ha!"

The complexions of the fifty Crimson tribe warriors following behind immediately darkened completely, their hands already placed ready on their weapon hilts.

On Kaelen’s shoulder, the leopard cub Finnick hearing that fat pig dare to call him a "pet leopard," and even dare to drop dirty words to his Papa, his green eyes immediately flashed a blood-red killing intent streak. Chloe’s vine on his ankle was already restless wanting to shoot out piercing through the throats of the crowd in front of them.

Sane standing beside Kaelen also had raised his eyebrows. An extremely tiny Purple Lightning streak flashed at his fingertip, preparing to detonate the fat guy’s pig head in front of him into fireworks.

However, Kaelen lightly held his husband’s and son’s hands back, smiling gesturing for Godfrey standing in the back to step up.

Killing a gate-guarding hound at this moment was as easy as crushing an ant, but it was easy to alert the merchant boss crowd currently holding the self-destruct array switch on Auction Island. Using exactly Silverport’s unwritten rules to crush them was the fastest and neatest way!

Sword Saint Godfrey with a cold face stepped forward one step, blocking between the fat guy Vargas and Kaelen’s group.

He did not speak a single superfluous word, only silently pulled his hood down, exposing a rugged, weather-beaten face along with a long scar running along his left temple, then swung his hand throwing an old black iron-cast command token stabbing "thwack" down onto the wooden table right in front of Vargas’s belly!

Thwack!

The command token embedded half a decimeter into the ironwood surface, engraved on it an image of a heavy sword slashing in half a deep-sea monster, the unique symbol of the Sea King Godfrey, the only Sword Saint having ever single-handedly with one sword slashed away the three largest pirate fleets in the Eastern sea region nineteen years ago!

The obnoxious laughter of the mercenary crowd immediately died out completely like choked chickens.

Vargas looked down at the black iron command token, then again looked up at the scar on the temple of the man in front of him. His plump fat face in the blink of an eye was cut without a drop of blood, turning from red to pale white then purplish like pig liver!

"Sea... Sea King... Sir Godfrey?!"

Vargas’s two knees went weak, his whole round fat body collapsed dropping down onto the dock surface hitting a heavy "thud" sound. He no longer had any bit of majestic aura of a port manager, his two hands automatically slapping his own face "smack smack" to the point both cheeks swelled up, his voice stammering begging like about to cry:

"Sir Godfrey! It was this lowly one having eyes like blind not recognizing you returning! This lowly one deserves death! This lowly one did not know these two Sirs are your masters, begging you to spare this lowly one’s dog life!"

Godfrey looked coldly at the fat guy currently kneeling flat under his shoe toe, his sharp cold voice ringing out:

"Nineteen years not returning, I see this Silverport is increasingly more rotten than in the past indeed. Your uncle, that old man Marcos, inside the Council of Twelve Merchants where is he? Tell that old man to personally bring a diamond-class invitation card of the Blood Moon Auction session out to this dock welcoming my masters within one quarter of an hour. If late by one breath, I will personally hold my sword going all the way up to his mansion to inquire about his health!"

As for Kaelen, Sane, and Finnick, all three people didn’t even bother looking down at the manager currently kowtowing bleeding his forehead on the ground for a single glance.

Kaelen both scratched the chin for the leopard cub currently snorting disdainfully on his shoulder, and looked up at the gold sign engraving the text line "As long as you have enough gold, even a Deity’s life can be bought outright" suspended over the port gate, his mouth corners curving up into a cold smile:

"Since being proud that everything can be bought and sold with money... Then two days from now on Auction Island, let me see if your entire Council of Twelve Merchants has enough money to buy back your own dog lives before the face of Deities or not!"