Everything Fears Imagining

Facing the pirates with menacing glares all around, the warrior remained remarkably calm, not showing the slightest hint of panic.

He walked directly towards the campfire and stopped less than three meters from Harlett. With unhurried grace, he bent over and bowed, saying, "Greetings, Captain Bloodhand. I am here on behalf of my master to negotiate with you."

It was clear that this was none other than the soldier Zuo Si had summoned.

At this very moment, this summoned creature, possessing the intelligence and thoughts of a normal person, had retrieved his weapons and chainmail. He exuded an intense confidence that was difficult to describe in words.

This confidence did not stem from his personal strength, but from his summoner, the Planeswalker manipulating everything from the shadows—Zuo Si.

"Negotiate? Who is your master? And what makes him think he's qualified to negotiate with me?" Harlett retorted with a cold laugh.

If it weren't for the unsettling disappearance of twenty-five of his men hours ago, he would have already ordered this overconfident fool to be chopped into meat paste.

The soldier sensed the coldness and cruelty in the pirate captain's eyes. He responded with a smile, "Since my master dared to send me alone to negotiate, he has prepared sufficient leverage. For example, the sea stew you ate a few hours ago has been laced with a potent poison called ricin. And this poison is about to take effect."

Before he finished speaking!

Several human pirates, with relatively weaker constitutions, clutched their stomachs and collapsed to the ground.

The intense pain caused them to curl up into balls, like boiled shrimp.

The half-orcs and goblins followed suit, all falling to the ground and vomiting uncontrollably.

In almost all of their vomit, dark red blood clots could be clearly seen.

As for the ogres, who had the strongest constitutions.

Having eaten the most, they had also ingested the most poison.

When the effects kicked in, they instantly experienced convulsions and severe shock. They lay on their backs, defecating and urinating uncontrollably, their vomit quickly blocking their esophagus and trachea.

Before their organs could even fail, they suffocated to death.

In just a few minutes, over two hundred pirates succumbed to the poison one after another. Only the small squad of eight goblins and two ogres who had just returned were unharmed.

This was because they hadn't had a chance to eat the soup laced with high-purity ricin before being sent out on their mission.

At this moment, the entire beach was filled with wails.

The stench of the poisoned pirates' excrement mixed with the sour smell of their vomit, creating a scene from hell.

Witnessing the agonizing state of the poisoned pirates around him, Bernard, the captive, recoiled in fear.

He couldn't believe he had been just one step away from death moments ago.

If he had accidentally taken a sip of the cold soup, he would have likely died in extreme agony like the pirates within a few hours.

May Wealth Goddess Aurum bless me!

The young merchant silently prayed to his deity in his heart.

Meanwhile, Harlett, "Captain Bloodhand," who had witnessed all of this firsthand, had a face ashen with rage and his eyes filled with murderous intent.

He had always been the one to toy with others, and this was the first time he had been ambushed.

He didn't even know who had ambushed him.

The soldier completely ignored the pirate captain's boiling rage and continued his coercion, "Exactly four hours! Not a minute off from my master's prediction of the poison's onset. Now, it's your turn to make a choice, Captain Bloodhand. Will it be negotiation, or will you watch your subordinates die slowly under the torment of poison?"

Instantly!

The pirates who had not yet lost consciousness from the pain cast pleading glances at their captain.

Clearly, they didn't want to die and wanted Harlett to agree to the other party's demands in exchange for an antidote that would save their lives.

"Aren't you afraid I'll kill you?" Harlett suddenly drew his scimitar and held it to the soldier's neck.

The sharp blade even cut through the soldier's skin, and dark red blood flowed down his neck, staining his chainmail.

Yet, the soldier showed no fear whatsoever. He merely questioned with a blank expression, "Is this your choice? If so, then please kill me immediately. My master will consider it a declaration of war."

"You're not afraid of death?"

Harlett finally realized something was amiss.

He had seen countless people in his life. Even paladins with unwavering resolve, willing to sacrifice themselves for justice and the innocent, would show some fear of death before they died.

This was because it was the instinct of all intelligent beings, and overcoming it was almost impossible.

But this human warrior, who looked no older than twenty-six or twenty-seven, truly had no trace of fear in his eyes, as if death were as commonplace as breathing.

"It is my honor and the meaning of my existence to die for my master."

As he spoke these words, the soldier's face displayed an expression of utmost seriousness, piety, and sanctity.

He was not lying or deceiving the other party; he was speaking his true thoughts.

But it was this spirit of selfless devotion, completely fearless of death, that made Harlett's scalp tingle for the first time.

On the Faerun Continent, organizations that could make their subordinates willing to die for them were typically the paladins or clerics of good-aligned deities, or brainwashed demon worshippers.

Of course, it was also possible that magic or mind control was involved.

Regardless, this implied something truly terrifying.

That the "master" mentioned by the soldier was likely a powerful, cunning, and sinister spellcaster.

In an instant, the notorious "Captain Bloodhand" conjured an image of an evil mage, around forty or fifty years old, tall and thin, with cold, sharp eyes.

He even suspected that this mage had been hired by his enemies to cause trouble for him.

After all, Harlett's unrestrained plundering of passing merchant ships over the years, exploiting human greed and weaknesses to constantly expand his intelligence network and influence, had long since drawn the ire of many.

Setting aside organizations and temples of the good alignment, the merchants of Amn alone had repeatedly tried to hire adventurers to eliminate him.

If it weren't for some "business" dealings with the Shadow Thieves Guild, allowing him to receive advance warning before each crackdown, he probably would have died countless times already.

Furthermore, other pirate captains viewed Harlett as a thorn in their side, eager to get rid of him.

As the saying goes, there's no hatred quite as fierce as that between rivals.

No one wanted to see a Pirate King emerge on the Sea of Swords.

Unless...

That person was themselves.

"What does your master want from me?"

After a long silence, Harlett finally sheathed his scimitar, deciding to deal with the immediate crisis first.

Even though he cared not one bit about the lives of his own pirates.

But if all these two hundred-plus men were wiped out at once, upon their return voyage, other pirate ships from the Nylanthian Islands would likely discover them and immediately launch a concerted attack.

In these waters filled with chaos, violence, and blood, only superior strength could force those vicious rivals to remain calm and rational.

Pirates had always communicated through strength.

One pirate crew robbing another was nothing new; it had always been this way, from ancient times to the present.