Pirate Kingship

At another corner of the vast island.

A team flying the flag of the Remit People was rapidly moving through the forest. Thanks to Sister Teresa's tea leaf divination, they had seized a favorable position in advance. They had arrived on the island only slightly later than the Barbary Pirates, and though their team was nearly two hundred strong, their progress was even faster than the latter's.

At that moment, the bushes and shrubs before them parted to the sides on their own, creating a wide clear path that closed back to its original state after they passed. As the adventure team walked through the jungle, it was as if they were on level ground.

Leading them was a Third Order Knight Commander, Marlin Bishop, who held in his hands a [Second-Class Relic: Universal Travelogue]. This book, as the world's first continent-spanning travelogue, possessed the power to overcome all obstacles and allow its bearer to move unhindered. To forge paths through mountains and build bridges over waters, it was the dream treasure of any Traveler or Adventurer.

The character of the Remit People might be debatable. Still, they were certainly not only rich but also possessed a long heritage, so it was hardly surprising for them to casually produce one or two treasures.

They had marched continuously to a river flowing with milk before they stopped to rest for the first time.

A Second Order [Treasure Hunter], who was supposed to be a Scout, was not carrying out his duties. Instead, he held his animal companion, a valuable Knight's King Charles Spaniel, and sat alone at the edge of the camp, deeply sorrowful.

"WOOF, WOOF... AWOOO~"

The slender-bodied hunting dog whimpered softly in its owner's arms, its once healthy limbs now reduced to three, with the right front leg severed at the elbow. Although the wound had healed under the treatment spell, the hunting dog's spirits were still very low, clearly traumatized by its earlier experience.

The Treasure Hunter, heartbroken and on the verge of tears, regretfully muttered, "I had no idea that even a dog would need a ticket to get on the island. I'm sorry, little Charlie."

Originally, he had indeed been the spearhead of the exploration. But when they encountered the Gold-devouring Ants, even though he knew the ticket cost two Gold Coins, he didn't realize that every creature with feet on the ground counted. By the time he realized it, his Knight's King Charles Spaniel's foreleg had already been easily bitten off by the Gold-devouring Ants. If it weren't for the Nun, who had received investment from a Banker and agreed to escort and protect this team, reacting swiftly and rescuing them in time, even the dog's bones would now be cold.

At that moment, a slender, fair hand that was nonetheless full of warmth rested on the head of the hound. The palm gleamed with Holy Light, gently caressing its neck, helping to gradually stabilize its emotions.

The Treasure Hunter looked up to see the compassionate Nun had come to his side. He couldn't help but express his gratitude, "Sister, thank you, you really are a good person. I have no wife or children, and little Charlie is my only family. When we return, please allow me to donate half of my assets to The Great Cathedral of the Holy Mother's Mercy."

Teresa's face was serene as she casually handed over a stick-shaped object wrapped in parchment paper into his hands. "Don't mention it, a Clergy member ought always to protect the Lord's lambs in His stead. I've seen too many disabled warriors, and I know the serious challenge it represents for the rest of one's life—or dog's life—whether it's physiological or psychological. Here, this is a gift I prepared for you; I hope it can help you both regain your spirit."

The Treasure Hunter, moved to tears, took the "gift" and began to unwrap it while inquiring subconsciously, "May I ask what this is...?"

Teresa, who had taken two steps away, waved her hand casually with the easy grace of someone who does good without seeking recognition. "It's nothing valuable. It's just that while performing the amputation surgery on your dog, I took the liberty of turning the severed leg into a specimen. In the future, when you're playing with it, you can throw this leg, and have the dog fetch it back. This way, even if your dog only has three legs, it can still have fun playing with its fourth leg. Isn't that a great idea?"

The Hunter, still unwrapping the parchment, froze in place. "I..."

Even the dog being held in his arms dared not continue whimpering. A complex emotion appeared across the dog's long face, one it had never experienced in its life. Instinctively, it burrowed further into its master's embrace, doing its utmost to keep further and even further away from the "kind" Nun.

All the while, there was a river flowing with milk at the edge of the temporary camp. The river seemed to be sweetened with sugar, too, emitting an alluringly sweet scent that was hard to resist. Especially since there was an unearthly beautiful girl bathing in the milk river. The milk flowed over her skin, fairer than the milk itself, with droplets meandering down the contours of her body. It appeared to make the milk in the river even sweeter and more tempting.

Her enchanting eyes hooked a valiant man who had come to the shore to fetch milk.

CLANG!

The bucket dropped to the ground abruptly.

The man subconsciously lifted his feet, step by step approaching the milk river, covering his wildly beating heart as he recited a verse of poetry, "Ah, beautiful maid, you are the Sun in my heart! In my eyes, forever embedded is your sunlight, no more darkness accompanies my life. In my heart's core, forever embedded is your sunlight, together in warmth and coolness, unparalleled in the world..."

This Third Order Doppler Swordsman, Herman Schwartz, never spoke human language, but this time poetry seemed perfectly fitting in the scenario of courtship.

The beauty bathing in the river appeared to be particularly generous, warmly smiling as she eagerly stepped forward, taking his hand and inviting him into the river. Her soft, boneless hand caressed his chest, as sturdy as a tower. Sweet lips met his with fervor, while her able hands began to strip off his clothes, one piece at a time...

However, nearly every fairy tale told to children likely has an original, darker version. The story from Xilaralavia was certainly no exception. The land was filled with delicious food, fine wine, and treasure, and of course, there were beautiful women. But this beauty had to be taken with a hefty set of quotation marks.

At the bottom of the zero-visibility milk river, the "beauty's" lower half stretched out like a fleshy pillar, extending five to six meters down into the mouth of a gargantuan river clam. The clamshell was ghastly pale, resembling bone, with a pockmarked surface as if constructed from the skeletons of countless Humans. And the so-called beauty was merely a lure growing on the tip of its tongue—no different in essence from the glowing 'lantern' of a Lanternfish. This bizarre and special species trait easily shielded it from the Spirit Vision of a Third Order Transcendent.

Herman from the Empire, clearly a seasoned man when it came to women, was locking lips with the beauty while his hands naturally slid into the water, seeking to go further. But upon reaching out, he immediately sensed something was amiss.

Nothing! There's nothing!

In shock, when he tried to let go, he found his tongue already trapped. The skin they touched was also glued together by a sticky liquid. A powerful force suddenly surged from the river bottom, about to ruthlessly drag him under.

In the midst of the astonishing transformation, what came from his throat was still an indistinct poem, "We long for precious freedom, determined to fight for it!"

His arms trembled.

SNAP!

His muscles bulged, clothes bursting off on the spot, his attire shattered into dust. Revealed were the dense tattoos all over his body, which upon closer inspection, appeared to be hundreds of poems. And this was the source of why he never spoke in plain language.

[Second-Class Relic: Sword Saint Johannes Lichtenauer's Original Poetry Manuscript]:

"Johannes Lichtenauer was a master of the great sword from The Holy Silver Empire, also a Sword Saint who founded an extensive swordsmanship school. 'Johannes swordsmanship' was unbeatable throughout the world in heavy sword play. This Sword Saint turned all his life's learning into hundreds of obscure poems, the ones that comprise the *Original Poetry Manuscript of Sword Saint Johannes Lichtenauer*. However, they were not a tangible manuscript but tattoos. Upon being acknowledged by the Sacred Relic, it autonomously covered this Doppler Swordsman from head to toe, dubbed 'the walking manuscript.'

Effects:

The bearer learns swordsmanship twice as fast in daily practice.

In a duel, one must fully expose the poems on their body and shout out the poetic lines of the Sword Moves being used, increasing the skill's critical strike by 100%!

The catch is that while carrying this object, any form of communication must be conveyed through poetry or riddles. If the bearer explains things directly, their mouth will disappear for a week."

At the same time, the 185 cm long Miracle two-handed sword [Horse Leg Collector] had already fallen into Herman's hands.

He shouted the severing inscription of the two-handed sword, "Horses mourn in unison!"

Amidst the high-pitched neighing of horses, the blade exploded with a blast, sending the "beauty" flying violently away.

Continuing to recite poetry, "Skilled in wrestling, moving spear as knife. Practicing art with measure, vanquishing foes, seizing life!"

The corresponding tattoos on his body quietly lit up. Like a fierce Dragon entering the river, he plunged naked into the milky stream, waves of milky columns exploding, splashing everywhere along with the mournful cries of the river clam spirit.

A macaw flew to the riverbank, perching on a tree branch. "In this country, birch and willow trees have fresh bread growing on them, rivers flow with milk, and when the bread falls into the river, it becomes milk bread, a treat beloved by children and women."

The macaw's beak described another aspect of Xilaralavia. Only, the "women" here seemed to fancy not just the milk bread that fell into the river, but also the people who fell in!

After finishing the fairy tale, it shielded its eyes with its broad wings, yet it couldn't help but sneak a peek at the "fierce battle" in the river. "A fierce man, a beauty, milk, and piercing screams— Oh my creator, is this something Mr. Thomas would see without paying? I thought I had finally found a poetic soul with artistic flair and elegance, but it turns out... This is just terrible, worse than the moldy Captain's hat of that Andrew next door. Perhaps I should seek the next one."