The System's Lottery-Seven Draws

After twenty days and nights sailing across the sea, the Hao Yin cut through more than sixty percent of the Narrow Sea's unexplored waters like a black blade, then sailed into the colder, more mysterious Shivering Sea.

When the colossal statue known as the Titan of Braavos, guardian of the city, emerged from the sea mist like a mountain, gazing down with its ageless, unchanging expression at every ship that passed, Yulon knew the first leg of the journey was over. He was about to reach Braavos.

A cold system prompt silently appeared deep in his consciousness:

[Exploration: You sailed across the Narrow Sea and earned 320 points.]

[Exploration: You discovered the Shivering Sea and earned 120 points.]

[Exploration: You discovered the Titan of Braavos and earned 60 points.]

[Exploration: You discovered Braavos and earned 120 points.]

That made 620 points in total. Adding the 30 points he had left over, he now had 650 points.

On the first day Yulon arrived in Braavos, he met the Red Viper and also met with Maleo.

Maleo had arranged lodgings for Yulon in the Purple Harbor district, a bustling, safe area with convenient transportation. But Yulon didn't immediately settle into the comfortable nest.

Late at night, Yulon moved like a ghost along the misty canals, quickly surveying the distinctive establishments around him: the Green Eel Inn, where sailors gathered amid the smell of fish and ale; the Black Ship Workshop, redolent of tung oil and rust, where the rough laughter of shipwrights rang out; the small temple of Morrogh, where incense curled before an exotic deity; the Refugee Inn, frequented by the desperate and the exiled; the House of Seven Lamps, alive with scholarly candlelight and debate; and the Cat House brothel, shrouded in warm lamplight and soft whispers...

An indescribable restlessness—or perhaps an obsession with making things "complete"—drove him into the lively streets at dusk.

He wasn't out for pleasure. This was a unique kind of "pilgrimage." Yulon wanted to round off his current points total before beginning his travels, so he could use the Pirate King System's lottery and give himself another bargaining chip.

At every place he visited, he paused briefly to take in its unique atmosphere. Soon after, faint prompts sounded in his consciousness as his points ticked upward—five, ten... These scattered gains were like the last puzzle pieces falling into place, pushing his enormous total precisely to the satisfying round number of 700. As if he had completed some necessary ritual, he finally returned to his lodgings, content.

Behind the tightly shut door, candlelight flickered. Yulon sent everyone away and sank his mind into the system's mysterious interface. All 700 points vanished in an instant, turning into seven dazzling streaks of light that tore through the veil of reality.

[Eternal Pointer] An old, battered bronze compass appeared in his hand. Its needle didn't point toward magnetic north but stubbornly quivered toward a distant, fixed direction, as if silently declaring an eternal coordinate.—There was no indication of where it pointed, so it was no use to him for now.

[Das Qi's Glasses] A pair of goggles with sleek lines and strangely deep-purple lenses. Once you put them on, your world was no different from when you weren't wearing them. "Lysa, come on, put these on." "..." "Put them in front of your eyes. Right, just like that. Hook them over your ears." "..." "Mm, they look good!" "Do they? I feel like I look silly." "What do you know? It's called cute. You look adorable... Ahem—after I gave you a gift, that's how you respond?" "Oh, thank you for the gift, Master. Lysa is very happy."

[Sky Island Pumpkin] A gigantic pumpkin with strange cloud patterns and a pale-blue hue to its skin. It gave off an unfamiliar, sweet scent, and seemed unlike any crop from the ordinary world.

[Stand-in Scarecrow] A palm-sized doll crudely bound together from withered black straw. It gave off a faint aura that mingled ill omen with protection. In a fatal crisis, it would activate automatically and take the place of its owner in suffering one inevitable death.

[Pirate King System: 9-Cubic-Meter Storage Space] A separate, empty space abruptly opened in his consciousness. With a thought, the items he had just obtained disappeared, then reappeared at his command, as easily as moving his own limbs.

[Sea Pig Hormone Broth] A sealed stone jar. When opened, it released an intensely rich aroma, blending the sweetness of the sea with a potent life force. This "resurrection-type" broth could dispel the cold and drive away fatigue, quickly restoring the strength and energy of a body worn out by the penetrating chill.

[Skill: Two-Sword Style—Lv. 1] This wasn't simply wielding a blade in each hand, but a combat philosophy rooted deep in blood and soul, elevating slaughter into a cruel art. As the ability became part of Yulon's will, the mysteries of balance, rhythm, and the symphony of killing burst open before him.

Yulon's consciousness seemed to tear apart and then reassemble. Countless visions of fighting with two weapons surged into him like a tide—not the wild chopping the Ironborn favored, but a different, exquisitely precise dance of death. He instantly understood how to make two blades—whether a longsword and a dagger or two completely different scimitars—extensions of his own will. One would attack, the other defend, yet in the blink of an eye they could switch roles, forming an unending storm of death.

Each weapon gained a separate "life" of its own, yet both were perfectly united beneath his single mind. His left hand drew circles while his right thrust straight; parries and slashes landed at the same time; the impact of one weapon created a perfect killing angle for the other... All these techniques felt like innate instincts, etched into his reflexes.

At the heart of this art was the creation of an undefendable "opening." When an opponent put everything into blocking the ferocious attack of one blade, the other would slide out like a viper from the blind spot in his vision and thoughts, striking straight at a fatal weakness. It demanded a near-split focus, absolute control of distance, and the mad courage to place oneself in danger for the sake of a killing blow.

For Yulon, this skill had arrived at just the right moment. It perfectly made up for his slight shortfall in raw strength, refining his fighting style from the wild abandon of a sea reaver into a deadly aesthetic better suited to Essos's complex world—one that combined power, guile, and ruthless efficiency. Wherever his twin blades danced, a road of blood opened before him.

Yulon Greyjoy strode steadily along the slick stone pavement. The Stand-in Scarecrow in his arms gave off a faint, reassuring chill, while the many subtle variations of the Two-Sword Style flowed silently through his mind, giving him the confidence to face the unknown.

Behind him, Lysa wore the oddly shaped, deep-purple-lensed Das Qi's Glasses on the bridge of her nose, silently observing subtle changes in the flow of energy around them. "Cracked Jaw" Daggmo was like a wary warhound, his rough hand always resting on his sword hilt, his eyes full of instinctive distrust for this heathen city.

"Get a good night's rest. Tomorrow, we'll go see the legendary Faceless Men!"