The surface of the sea, following an earth-shattering collision, returned to a terrifying, deathly stillness. Only the soft lapping of waves against the hulls and the whistling of the sea breeze remained.
The thousand-plus pirates aboard the thirty warships—men who just moments ago were ferocious and arrogant—now stood dumbfounded, petrified in place. They stared at the largest warship, where a deep crater marred the deck. They stared at the broadsword that had been snapped in two. And they stared at the Black Flood Dragon King, their Island Master, the overlord of this entire sea, who now lay gasping for breath in a pool of his own blood, his eyes overflowing with dread and utter disbelief.
All of this, because of a single slash. A single slash from a nameless youth.
Suspended in mid-air, Tran Kien stood unmoving. The chaotic aura of lightning and fire had been restrained, yet the profound majesty it left in its wake still enveloped the entire fleet. The matte-black saber in his hand bore not a single scratch; it pointed downward in silence, a solitary drop of the Black Flood Dragon King's blood still clinging to its tip.
"The treasure is right here," he spoke. His voice was not loud, yet it boomed like thunder in the ears of every pirate. "Is there anyone else among you who wishes to take it?"
Not a single person dared to answer. Not a single person dared to move.
Faced with absolute power—a power capable of defeating a peak Foundation Establishment expert with a single slash—all their ferocity, all their greed, had been utterly snuffed out. All that remained was a primal fear originating from the very depths of their souls.
Tran Kien paid them no further heed. He slowly descended, landing gently upon his tiny wooden boat. Old Kinh still stood there in a stupor, his mind unable to process the colossal shock he had just witnessed.
"Elder, let us go," Tran Kien said, his voice returning to its usual placidity.
"Go... go?" Old Kinh stammered. "Just... just like that?"
He looked at the fleet of warships encircling them. Although the Black Flood Dragon King had been defeated, the pirates still numbered over a thousand. If they were to attack en masse, the two of them would undoubtedly be ground to dust.
Tran Kien offered no explanation. He simply channeled his Primordial Chaos Qi to activate the "Four-Directional Tailwind Array" inscribed upon the boat. A gentle breeze swelled, slowly, slowly... pushing the small wooden boat forward, gliding right through the gap between two colossal warships.
Not a single person dared to stop them. As the tiny boat passed by, every pirate subconsciously took a step back, their eyes brimming with profound awe and reverence.
It was a bizarre spectacle. A tiny wooden boat, leisurely gliding through a formidable fleet of warships, akin to a sovereign patrolling his own dominion.
But just as Tran Kien's boat reached the halfway point, from the largest warship, a hoarse, feeble voice—overflowing with deep unwillingness—abruptly rang out.
"Halt... halt!"
The Black Flood Dragon King, supported by a few trusted subordinates, had painfully struggled to sit up. He clutched his chest, fresh blood continuously bubbling from the corners of his mouth, yet his gaze was fixed intently upon Tran Kien's back.
"Who... exactly are you?" he ground out the words. "That saber strike... that is not a saber art of this world! You are no ordinary cultivator!"
Tran Kien halted the boat. He did not turn his head.
"Who I am matters not," he replied. "What matters is that you have lost."
"Lost?" The Black Flood Dragon King sneered, a manic, deranged smile spreading across his face.
"Yes, today I have lost! A total, justifiable defeat! But my Flood Dragon Island operates by the rules of Flood Dragon Island! The victor becomes king; the loser becomes the bandit! You have defeated me. From this day forward, you are the new master of these waters!"
He suddenly mustered the very last dregs of his strength, unleashing a heaven-shaking roar.
"ALL HANDS, HEAR MY COMMAND! FROM THIS DAY FORTH, THIS LITTLE BROTHER HERE IS THE NEW KING OF FLOOD DRAGON ISLAND! ANYONE WHO DARES TO DISRESPECT HIM SHALL BE KILLED WITHOUT MERCY!"
With those words, not waiting for Tran Kien to react, he abruptly drew a dagger and plunged it straight into his own heart.
Pff.
Fresh blood sprayed into the air. The pirate overlord, having spoken his final decree, chose to end his own life, preserving the last shred of dignity afforded to a defeated man.
The entire fleet plunged into a deathly silence.
Then, one second later.
THUD!
Every single pirate, from the ship captains down to the lowest foot soldiers, simultaneously dropped to one knee upon the decks. They bowed their heads deeply toward Tran Kien's tiny boat.
A unified, thunderous voice, carrying absolute, unquestioning submission, echoed across the sea.
"PAYING RESPECTS TO THE NEW KING!!!"
Tran Kien stood there, stunned. Old Kinh was equally dumbfounded.
Neither of them could have ever anticipated events developing in such a direction. He only wished to pass through, yet unintentionally... he had become the king of the entire sea.
Tran Kien looked at the kneeling pirates, then at the corpse of the Black Flood Dragon King. He let out a soft sigh. He knew this submission was not directed at him personally. It was submission to power. In a place like this, only absolute strength could force others to bow their heads.
He could not refuse. If he refused, these pirates would lose their leader, and the entire sea would descend into a bloodbath of slaughter and conquest even more horrific than before. He had inadvertently shouldered a brand-new responsibility.
He turned the boat around.
He spoke no words. He simply took flight in silence, alighting upon the largest warship. He walked up to the corpse of the Black Flood Dragon King. He displayed not a shred of contempt. He merely bowed his head—a gesture of respect for a formidable opponent.
"From this day forth," he projected his voice. It was not loud, but it echoed clearly in the ears of every single man. "The rules of Flood Dragon Island shall be dictated by me."
The journey back from Flame Mountain had seemingly birthed the most unforeseeable variable of all.