All of You, Die!

Two hundred and thirty paces beyond the bushes, Ponytail was swinging a chipped axe at a rotten stump on the ground. A campfire had only just been lit beneath the deep barrel-shaped pot beside it.

Supporting his waist, he looked up at the dying sun gradually sinking behind the western ridge, then glanced toward the southern slope. Waves of tension rose within Ponytail, and the sweat on his forehead ran hot and cold.

The sun had already set, and dinner was about to begin. He still did not know whether Young Master Roger had gathered enough men to come wipe out the bandits. The more he thought about it, the more nervous he became. Even the right hand holding the axe began to tremble faintly. He hurriedly patted it with his left hand, forcing it to calm down.

Thinking back carefully now, Young Master Roger's plan had far too many holes. A slip in any link could cause the entire plan to fail.

What worried him most was whether they could gather enough people to suppress the bandits. After all, Ponytail knew the islanders of Allen Island. The warriors who dared fight had long been forcibly conscripted by the lords to battle on the mainland. As for how many ruthless men still worth using remained on the island, he could count them on one hand.

With that thought, his movements unconsciously came to a stop.

"Ponytail, you bastard, slacking off again. If there isn't enough firewood for dinner, just wait to get beaten!" A vicious bandit passing by loudly cursed at the dazed Ponytail. This fellow was the Second Chief's confidant, nicknamed Stinky Clam, because he always reeked of the fishy stench of rotten clams.

Ponytail hurriedly bent down and continued chopping wood, cursing that vicious bandit several times over in his heart.

After chopping a huge pile of firewood, Ponytail carried it over to the deep pot and dumped it down in one go. He smiled at the old lackey preparing ingredients by the pot. "Yo, dinner's quite lavish."

"Yeah. The Second Chief ordered all the dried beef and smoked fish from the ship brought over. They also got quite a bit of beer from the village. Tonight, everyone can finally have a good meal." He had not made such a lavish meal in a long time, yet his face was full of sorrow.

That afternoon, the scouts keeping watch in Brodick had sent back word: hundreds of Allen Island islanders had gathered in Brodick, forcing the plan to storm Brodick and avenge the First Chief to come to a halt.

So the two chiefs had decided to take advantage of the island's strong men gathering in the town. Early tomorrow morning, they would sail out and raid Whiting Bay in the south. That manor was Baron John's directly governed territory, and it was quite prosperous—well worth the pirates giving it a savage plundering.

Then they would set a fire outside Milkhouse Manor, which would count as avenging the First Chief.

That was why the Second Chief had been so uncharacteristically generous, allowing the pirate lackeys to eat and drink their fill.

But the old lackey's cousin and his cousin's family lived in Whiting Bay. Given his lowly status among the pirates, he clearly could not persuade those vicious bandits to spare those two poor families of relatives.

"I hope you all went to Brodick." The old lackey sighed softly. He could barely protect himself; he truly had no strength left to worry about others.

Ponytail did not hear the old lackey's sigh. He suddenly clutched his stomach and whispered, "Damn it, something I ate at noon upset my stomach. I need to go shit."

With one hand over his stomach and the other plugging his ass, he ran toward the grass nearby.

After a bout of groaning and grunting, Ponytail emerged from the grass, flicking his right hand. He cursed at the old lackey by the iron pot, "Bastard leaves, shit got all over my hand."

The old lackey hurriedly raised his ladle, looking disgusted as he told Ponytail to get lost and scoop water from the bucket nearby to wash himself.

Flicking his hand, Ponytail went over. With his clean left hand, he picked up the dipper and scooped water, pouring it over the finger-sized ceramic vial in his right palm.

After washing it clean, he waited until the old lackey and the people around them were not paying attention, then pulled out the stopper and poured several drops of liquid medicine into the water bucket. After thinking it over, he added several more drops.

"You old fool, the pot's almost boiling dry." Ponytail lifted the bucket and poured most of the clear water into the iron pot, which was nearly glowing red from the heat. With a sharp hiss, a great cloud of white steam billowed up, and Ponytail hurriedly stepped back two paces.

"Old man, where's the liquor taken from the village? I'll help you carry it inside." Ponytail intended to make a move on the alcohol.

The old lackey merely assumed this lazy good-for-nothing wanted to sneak some liquor again. He cursed softly, "You lazy bastard, don't even think about getting any crooked ideas about the booze."

Ponytail's heart gave a violent jolt. He thought the old lackey had seen him poison the water.

"If you dare steal a drink, the Second Chief will cut out your tongue," the old lackey added.

Ponytail's raised heart finally settled. He lifted a hand to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead, only then noticing that a bit of shit had gotten on his cuff. He hurriedly pretended to arrange the cooking utensils and wiped it clean on a plate. "Hey, I was just asking. How would I dare steal liquor? Then I'll go help you lay out the tableware."

With that, Ponytail lifted a wicker basket and turned toward the mill.

"Stop!" the old lackey shouted.

Ponytail was startled again.

"You lazy breed, why are you suddenly so diligent? Tell me, are you up to something?" The old lackey lightly waved the dining knife in his hand.

Ponytail turned and stared blankly at the dining knife in the old lackey's hand for a moment. Then he steadied himself and gave a sheepish grin. "Isn't the little lackey gone? I'm just worried you old man can't handle everything and dinner will be delayed. Then maybe I'll get dragged into being beaten and cursed too."

That afternoon, the Third Chief had suddenly called away the young pirate who assisted the old kitchen lackey, saying he was being sent to Brodick to scout the enemy. Thus, only the old lackey remained by the iron pot, and the newly surrendered useless Ponytail had been assigned to help him with odd jobs.

"I don't even want to help you, sir." Ponytail made as if to throw down the wicker basket.

"Enough, you lazy breed. You just want to steal some food, don't you? Later, I'll hide a few pieces of stewed beef in the water bucket. When you're done, take the bucket to the river to fetch water and secretly eat them."

At the end, the old lackey softly reminded him, "Don't forget to leave two pieces for me."

"No problem."

With a broad smile, Ponytail lifted the wicker basket and headed toward the mill. Under the vicious glare of a burly man holding a spiked mace at the mill entrance, he swayed and stumbled his way inside.

More than half the first floor of the mill was occupied by equipment such as millstones, wooden gears, axles, and chutes. Four thick wooden pillars supported the entire mill, and farther inside stood a small room for storing grain sacks. It had originally been the First Chief's private "bedroom."

A long table stood between the four wooden pillars. This was normally where the three chiefs and five or six vicious bandits enjoyed their food. Ordinary pirates like the old and young lackeys had no right to sit here. They could only hug their battered wooden bowls and squat somewhere in a corner to eat off the ground.

In one corner of the mill, seven or eight young pirate lackeys were polishing the weapons and armor for tomorrow's "battle." By a campfire on the other side, the Second Chief and several vicious bandits were enthusiastically gambling with beans. Those who lost cursed as they tossed their silver coins to the winners, while several people nearby loudly cheered.

Ponytail had suffered plenty of bullying from those vicious bandits in the past, so he kept his head bowed extremely low, terrified of catching their attention and bringing down more beatings and curses.

He took wooden bowls, cups, and spoons from the wicker basket and placed them one by one on the long table.

Each time he set down a wooden cup, he would sweep his eyes to either side, then swiftly pour a tiny drop from the ceramic vial in his right hand and casually smear it around.

After successfully laying out seven or eight sets of tableware in a row, layer upon layer of thin sweat seeped across Ponytail's forehead.

Just as Ponytail was secretly rejoicing that the poisoning plan was nearly complete, a disturbance broke out among the people gambling with beans nearby. Two vicious bandits cursed as they pushed their way out of the crowd. Clearly, they had lost every last coin in their hands.

Ponytail glanced up and saw that they were precisely the two lackeys who had followed the pirate First Chief yesterday.

The two men also saw Ponytail arranging tableware by the long table. Seeing that he had tied up his braid again, old grudges and fresh hatred surged up once more.

The vicious bandit who had lost money rushed over and viciously kicked him. Ponytail crashed to the ground together with the wooden cup in his hand, which had not yet been poisoned. "No wonder I kept losing today. So it was because this rotten bastard showed up around me again."

The other vicious bandit had also been having terrible luck. He stepped forward and kicked and punched Ponytail repeatedly to vent his anger. "Still daring to tie a ponytail? You never learn, do you? Let you tie it! Let you tie it again!"

While hugging his head and enduring the beating from the two vicious bandits, Ponytail searched all around for the ceramic vial that had fallen. At last, he spotted several tiny fragments near the wall and a small patch of ground soaked through with green liquid.

The sounds of the beating alerted everyone. The old lackey, who had been preparing dinner outside, hurriedly ran in and humbly pleaded with the two vicious bandits.

The Third Chief, who had been patrolling and standing guard outside the mill, also walked in. Seeing those two men beating Ponytail again, he loudly cursed at them twice before leaving the mill.

The two vicious bandits did not dare disobey the Third Chief's command. They cursed at Ponytail for a long while before angrily flinging their sleeves and leaving.

Only after the two vicious bandits had gone did the old lackey dare step forward and help up Ponytail, who was curled on the ground with a broken head and blood streaming down his face. "Hey, how did you provoke those two again?"

"Go outside and watch the meat stewing in the pot. I'll lay out the rest."

Ponytail collected himself and shot a venomous glance at the two vicious bandits who had slammed the door and left. Then he concealed the savagery in his eyes, pretended to pick up the wooden cup that had fallen by the wall, and casually scooped up the dirt soaked in green liquid.

He put down the cracked wooden cup, wiped away his nosebleed, and limped out of the mill. Reaching the iron pot, he threw the dirt clenched tightly in his hand into the pot full of meat broth.

"Bastards, all of you go die!"

From the bushes on the slope, Roger had been unable to see what happened after Ponytail entered the mill, but he had already confirmed that Ponytail had infiltrated the pirates. The poisoning plan should not be a problem.

The sky was now a hazy gray. Looking up, he could already see stars scattered beside the waning moon.

The pirate standing watch atop the small hill beside the mill had also returned to the mill. With their extensive experience, they were certain no one would raid the camp at night, because almost nobody could see clearly in the dark. If they carried torches, they would be spotted from far away.

Taking advantage of the last bit of light before night fully fell, Roger confirmed the route from here to the mill once more and committed it to memory.

"Let's go back and bring the men over."

Roger led Gray Rat back to the tree line and returned to the hidden camp by the same route.

The two places were not far apart. In less than ten minutes, they could vaguely see Baldhead and Blackhide Dog guarding the mouth of the cave in the hollow.

The two men were already extremely excited. When they met Roger, they immediately whispered questions about the pirates' situation.

Roger gestured for them to discuss it inside. The two men waved the weapons in their hands and followed him in...