After Carlos's fleet passed, the alert Pirates who had been lucky enough to escape disaster broke into heated discussion.
"Whew... What pirate crew was that? They were way too overbearing. How come I've never seen them before?"
Heh, Pirates were ruthless toward others. Don't call the kettle black; they were all the same.
"No idea."
"Never seen them."
"Don't ask me."
"That... probably wasn't Pirates. I noticed their flag just now. It wasn't a pirate flag."
"Not every pirate flag has a skull on it, does it?"
"There are exceptions, but I think I heard one of my pirate brothers mention that flag before."
"He was from another pirate crew. It seemed his crew had once joined forces with several other crews to attack Maglin Island, but they ultimately failed."
"Smack! I remember now. That flag belongs to the Lucifer Family, one of the Five Mafia Families of the West Sea that replaced the John Family!"
At those words, all the Pirates understood. No wonder they carried such imposing force. As natives of the West Sea, no one was unaware of the Mafia's power... But judging by their aggressive momentum, something major was probably about to happen.
At the center of the fleet, Carlos lay in a deck chair near the bow beneath a sunshade. The table beside him was piled with chilled drinks, alcohol, fruit, and snacks. He enjoyed himself in peace, as though he were traveling rather than heading off to war.
He paid little attention to the Pirates of the West Sea. Unless they formed a combined fleet, any pirate crew in the West Sea would only be torn apart by his thirty-ship fleet, into which he had poured ample wealth, supplies, and manpower. He would not even need to act personally.
He could run rampant