Chapter Fifty-Two: Feng Xiong, the Master of the Longship

On the vast sea, a wiry martial artist sat suspended atop a mast, holding a cylindrical object, ceaselessly scanning the direction of the wooden rafts dozens of nautical miles away. Amid the boundless waters, the handful of rafts drifted like leaves caught in the wind, easily overlooked.

The wiry man possessed keen eyesight. After a few glances, he shouted loudly to the group of martial artists below, "Captain, there are four rafts in total, with about twenty or thirty people. From their tattered clothing, each carrying swords, spears, and shields, they're all martial artists!"

At the bow, along the deck and railings, stood a row of dozens of martial artists clad in fine armor, gripping solid bows. At the prow, a heavy bronze cannon was mounted. Beside it, a burly, scar-faced martial artist stood with arms crossed, gazing intently toward the distant rafts.

To his left stood a sly, yellow-toothed elder; to his right, a woman of seductive charm, her waist graceful as jade, lips painted a vivid red.

This scar-faced giant was the captain, Feng Xionglang, master of the sea vessel, commanding more than a hundred well-equipped martial artists.

"Captain, we're in luck—we've found dozens of slaves adrift in the sea. They're obviously martial artists; to survive drifting here, they must possess some skill. Selling them to the mines of the Donglai Immortal Village will fetch a fine price. This is a juicy piece of meat—don't let it slip away," the yellow-toothed elder exclaimed in delight.

"We're in the deep sea, far from any islands or ports. How did these rafts drift here? Something's odd... Could there be cultivators among them? If so, they're not to be trifled with!" Feng the captain's face darkened with suspicion.

He had traversed these waters dozens of times, intimately familiar with their perils. The nearest deserted island was more than ten days' journey away—even longer by raft, likely twenty to thirty days at best.

"Exactly. For these twenty or thirty martial artists to survive on mere rafts in waters teeming with razorfish, their physical cultivation must be formidable. To capture them all alive, our hundred-odd martial artists would suffer heavy casualties—not worth it," the seductive woman arched her brows, scoffing at the elder.

The yellow-toothed accountant hurriedly said, "No need for bloodshed, Captain! I'll go personally and persuade them to surrender their arms with nothing but my silver tongue."

"Ha! Since when have you become so clever and brave? Fine, go convince them to disarm. If you succeed, I'll reward you with five hundred taels of silver," Feng Xionglang laughed, surprised at the elder's volunteering.

"Oh, it's just the fox borrowing the tiger's might. I'll use your reputation to make them submit! If they refuse, then Captain, please show them your true colors," the elder chuckled.

The sea vessel drew within two or three miles of the four rafts and gradually halted. A small boat, twenty feet long, was lowered, and the yellow-toothed elder began rowing toward the rafts.

...

"Hurry! That sea vessel has spotted us!"

"They've launched a small boat toward us—probably coming to inquire about our situation, maybe to help!"

"Let's row toward the ship. Once we're aboard, we'll be saved!"

The martial artists atop the four big rafts were unaware of the conversation aboard the sea vessel. They were already in an uproar, cheering and waving their arms and cloth strips frantically toward the ship.

After more than a month adrift, they'd endured enough of despair and terror. Now, hope for rescue appeared suddenly—how could they not be excited?

Mo Ling, however, remained strangely silent, showing none of the joy of salvation.

"What's wrong?" Ye Mo noticed her troubled expression and asked.

"I don't know why, but I have a bad feeling... As far as I know, besides regular merchant ships, the Eastern Sea is also prowled by pirate vessels and ships trafficking slaves."

"In the coastal villages of Donglai, pirate raids are common. Slave ships often masquerade as merchant vessels, luring martial artists and ordinary people out to sea in search of immortals, then selling them at high prices to mines for profit! Who knows what kind of ship this is?" Mo Ling shook her head.

"Could it be a pirate or slave ship?" Ye Mo was startled, anxiety rising in his heart.

He glanced at the excited crowd, silently shaking his head. No matter what kind of ship it was, with only these four rafts, escape was impossible.

Moreover, after a month of hardship, the martial artists were desperate to abandon the flimsy rafts for the safety of a proper sea vessel. At this point, persuading them otherwise was futile.

After a while, the small boat drew near, stopping dozens of yards from the rafts.

The yellow-toothed elder called out loudly to the martial artists, "Everyone, our captain has seen you stranded at sea and decided to rescue you. However, since your origins are unknown, the captain fears you might cause trouble. You must first surrender your weapons; only then will you be allowed aboard. What do you say?"

"What, surrender our weapons?"

"Why? If we hand them over, wouldn't we be at their mercy?"

The cheers on the rafts abruptly ceased; everyone was stunned.

They weren't fools. When they first took a merchant ship to seek immortals at sea, they weren't required to surrender weapons. Why should they do so now?

"Martial artists never part with their swords, even generals in court carry blades. Unless we're prisoners, surrendering our arms is not customary! What's your captain's intent—does he want us as captives?" Gao Jian stood at the front, sharply questioning the elder.

"That's right! There are at least hundreds aboard that sea vessel—why would they fear a few dozen martial artists causing trouble?"

"Could it be, as Mo Ling said, that this is a pirate ship?"

"Yellow-toothed old man, tell your captain—if he dares come over, we'll fight him and see who prevails!"

Many among the martial artists had been captured and disarmed by Zheng Yiqing before; the wound reopened, fury erupted. Having slain a sea monster, their confidence in their own strength was high.

The elder was cursed roundly, but he remained unfazed, laughing, "I'm offering you a way to live—don't refuse the wine and take the penalty instead! Do you think your four little rafts can outrun a sea ship? Don't dream of defying our captain!"

Seeing their anger, the elder ceased speaking, rowed his boat back several dozen yards, and waved to the sea vessel.

At the bow, the bronze cannon slowly swiveled, aiming at the four rafts two hundred yards away.

"These fools won't cry until they see the coffin," Feng Xionglang said, holding a torch, his smile sinister. He ignited the fuse at the cannon's breech.

The fuse hissed, burning swiftly into the barrel.

With a deafening roar, the bronze cannon spat fire and smoke, launching an iron ball that howled toward one of the rafts.

The sea vessel shuddered violently from the blast.