Chapter 347 - 340: The Pirate King and His Friend Dory

Chapter 347: Chapter 340: The Pirate King and His Friend Dory

Peace Bay.

The once-bustling trading port was now unrecognizable.

Half of the stone bollards on the docks, once used to moor merchant ships, had been smashed. In their place were makeshift anchor points cobbled together from shipwrecked keels and thick iron chains.

The smooth stone slabs paving the streets had long since been pried up and scattered, leaving a mix of rubble and mud that was sticky and disgusting to walk on.

The walls of the shops and homes lining the streets were covered in crude graffiti and skull flags. Their windows were boarded shut, leaving only small cracks through which numb eyes peered out.

Most of the original inhabitants who hadn’t escaped in time had become the pirates’ property. The men were forced to haul cargo, and the slightest hesitation would earn them a lash from an overseer’s whip. The women and children were locked away in small huts, their eyes vacant as they awaited the fate of being sold.

Flanked by two pirates, Mia was half-dragged, half-walked down the street, stumbling with each step.

Her soaking clothes clung to her body, the curves they outlined drawing countless lustful whistles and jeers.

"The boss really hit the jackpot this time!"

"This chick is fucking gorgeous!"

Mia kept her head down, her eyes filled with calculation.

’Seriously, these guys are even cruder than Hector’s thugs. Still, this is good. The more these idiots are ruled by their desires, the easier they are to deal with.’

Their destination was the largest building at the deepest end of the bay—the "Sea Siren’s Song."

It had once been a magnificent merchant guildhall, but now a skull fashioned from whale ribs hung over its main entrance. The tavern was in an uproar, the deafening roars almost threatening to tear the roof off.

Inside the main hall, hundreds of pirates were crammed together, raising their cups and pouring cheap rum down their throats.

The tables were piled high with charred chunks of meat and half-eaten loaves of bread. A one-legged bard stood on a wooden barrel, strumming a battered lute and singing ballads of plunder and slaughter.

This was Barbossa’s banquet, a celebration of their latest "harvest" and a warm-up for the upcoming slave auction.

"Boss! Look what a prize we brought you!"

The pirate escorting Mia bellowed at the top of his lungs, forcing a path through the crowded room.

The boisterous hall fell silent for a moment.

All eyes focused on Mia as she was pushed to the front.

In the farthest corner of the banquet hall, behind a massive round table made from a ship’s helm, sat a large man. He had only one eye; the other socket was dominated by a hideous scar that ran from his forehead to the corner of his mouth, tearing across half his face.

’Black Sails’ Barbossa.

He set down his cup, his single eye scrutinizing Mia, as sharp as a falcon’s.

"Where’d she come from?" Barbossa asked, his voice coarse.

"Found her in the reef area, Boss!" one of the pirates said, eager to take credit. "She was clinging to a piece of a plank, and she was out cold when we fished her out!"

"Just her?"

"Yep, just her. Wasn’t even a dead fish around!"

Barbossa’s eye narrowed.

’She’s too clean. Though her clothes are soaked, the fabric isn’t something a commoner could afford. Her skin is fair, showing no signs of long-term exposure to the sun and sea. More importantly, she lacks the timidity of someone from the lower class.’

’That kind of aura... it’s like a finely crafted piece of art tossed into a trash heap.’

’It doesn’t add up.’

"You. What’s your name? Where are you from?" Barbossa questioned Mia, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the table.

Mia’s body trembled. She looked up, her purple eyes welling with tears, full of fear and helplessness—it was the expression she did best.

"I... My name is Lillian..." she said, her voice thin and choked with sobs. "Our ship... it was caught in a storm... It sank... I don’t know..."

She began to haltingly recount a fabricated story.

A minor noble family from the mainland. Her father had taken all their possessions and was trying to smuggle them by sea to the northern Empire to do business, but they were shipwrecked. She was the sole survivor.

The story was simple and full of holes.

But combined with her pitiful appearance and the alluring Spiritual Qi she was subtly emitting in her succubus form, the story itself hardly mattered. The pirates didn’t care about the truth; they only saw a top-quality female slave who could fetch an exorbitant price, or a plaything for their own pleasure.

Barbossa said nothing. He just stared at Mia.

His intuition told him something was fishy.

But he didn’t care about "fishy." People who made their living on the sea were never short on strange occurrences. He’d seen a fish that could tell the future, dredged up a bottle containing a cursed soul, and even shared a drink with an old drunk who claimed his shadow was alive.

More importantly, he had an ace up his sleeve. Hidden beneath his clothes was a Magic Sea Star he had taken from some ancient ruins. If anyone with lethal intent attacked him, the ornament would freeze them in place for a full five minutes—more than enough time for him to counter-kill them a hundred times over. It had saved him from countless overt and covert attacks, including a dagger from a bedmate.

Therefore, he couldn’t care less what secrets this little chick was hiding. The most important thing was to enjoy such a beauty for himself first, then sell her for a sky-high price at the upcoming auction.

"Heh, a noble lady?" Barbossa let out a cold, inscrutable laugh.

He reached out with a rough hand, grabbed Mia’s chin, and forced her head up.