Flood Dragon Island, following its internal purge and the reestablishment of ironclad rules, had completely metamorphosed. It no longer bore the chaotic, lawless facade of a pirate's lair. Instead, it was replaced by a terrifying silence and absolute discipline. Every pirate, no matter how ferocious, would unconsciously restrain their arrogance upon seeing the silent back of the New King seated atop the highest crag.
And the first trial by fire for the Sea Dragon Guard was akin to a massive boulder cast into a rippling lake—a test to see exactly what kind of power these new rules could forge.
Three days later, just as dawn broke over the horizon, dyeing a corner of the sea a rosy hue...
"REPORT!!!"
A long, sonorous blast from a conch horn echoed from the watchtower at the entrance of Flood Dragon Island.
The Sea Dragon Guard had returned!
The entire island instantly erupted into a clamor. Everyone, from the newly joined pirates to the old Vice Island Masters who had submitted, swarmed toward the docks. They wanted to see. They wanted to see if this first elite army under the New King, having been "tempered" anew, was truly as formidable as the rumors claimed.
Ten small, agile warships rode the waves into port. They no longer appeared hurried or disheveled; instead, they sailed in a neat line, maintaining an even distance, like a regular army on patrol.
Suspended from the mast of the leading ship was a human head. The head of Black Wolf, the Chieftain of the Wolf Fang Pirates—a notoriously cruel man whose cultivation base was at the Early Foundation Establishment stage. His blood had dried, but his face still bore an expression of terror and bitter unwillingness.
As the ten ships docked, the one hundred members of the Sea Dragon Guard, clad in light black armor, disembarked in absolute silence. Among them, some were injured, their armor bearing slash marks, yet not a single one showed signs of exhaustion or disarray. They stood in immaculate formation, silent as stone statues. Their killing intent was deeply restrained, yet their gazes were as sharp as blades, carrying the unyielding pride of victors.
Man Nguu stepped out from the ranks, striding toward Tran Kien, who was already waiting. He was no longer a ferocious Vice Island Master. He was a general reporting on the state of battle.
Dropping to one knee, he offered up a wooden box with both hands.
"Reporting to the Exalted Lord!" his sonorous voice rang out. "The mission is complete! The lair of the Wolf Fang pirates has been razed to the ground! Chieftain Black Wolf has been beheaded! Of his three hundred subordinates, those who resisted were slain without exception. Those who surrendered are being escorted back here."
"And what of our losses?" Tran Kien asked, his voice placid.
"Reporting to the Lord, three brothers fell in battle, and seventeen sustained minor injuries. Not a single man took a step back!"
Tran Kien nodded. A minuscule price for an overwhelming victory. He looked at the one hundred soldiers before him. He saw their transformation. The feral wildness was gone, replaced by ironclad discipline and an unshakeable faith. This trial by fire had not merely brought back victory; it had forged the very soul of this army.
"Well done," he said. "All of you are the most valiant warriors of Flood Dragon Island."
He opened the wooden box. Inside was not the head of Black Wolf, but the ledgers and the entirety of the wealth seized from Wolf Fang Island.
"These things," he projected his voice so that all could hear clearly. "In accordance with the new rules, seven parts shall enter the public treasury to rebuild Flood Dragon Island, treat the wounded, and provide generous pensions to the families of the three fallen brothers. The remaining three parts shall be divided equally among the one hundred of you who bled in this battle."
Unprecedented fairness and transparency! The surrounding pirates looking on no longer held mere apprehension in their eyes; a gleam of envy and intense yearning began to shine within. They began to understand that following this New King brought not just strict rules, but true glory and tangible benefits.
"There is one more matter," Tran Kien continued. He pointed to three bound Sea Dragon Guards kneeling at the end of the formation. "Man Nguu, what crime have they committed?"
Man Nguu's expression turned frigid. "Reporting to the Lord, these three, after subduing the enemy, disobeyed military orders. They took it upon themselves to torture and humiliate the corpses of the women within the stronghold."
The entire dock instantly plunged into a dead silence. All eyes focused on the three men. They trembled violently, their faces ashen.
Tran Kien said nothing. He merely, in silence, drew his matte-black saber and stepped forward.
"Lord, spare our lives! Lord, spare our lives!" The three kowtowed frantically.
"I have said it before," Tran Kien spoke, his voice as cold as the ice of the netherworld. "The rules of Flood Dragon Island strictly forbid anyone from bullying the weak, especially women and children. You have violated them."
"You are no longer men of Flood Dragon Island."
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Three arcs of freezing saber light flashed. Three heads, bearing expressions of terror and bitter unwillingness, tumbled to the ground.
Fresh blood dyed the docks red.
Tran Kien sheathed his saber. He turned around, facing everyone present.
"I will say this one last time," his voice rang out, every single word carving itself into the hearts of the onlookers. "On my Flood Dragon Island, merit shall be rewarded generously. But a crime, no matter how small, must be punished with blood."
"Those who wish to stay must obey the rules. Those who do not are free to leave right now. I absolutely will not force you to stay."
Not a single person dared to speak. Not a single person dared to leave.
Under the rule of this New King, they saw more than just power and profit. They saw something far more terrifying. They saw ironclad discipline.
From that day forward, Flood Dragon Island was truly reborn. It was no longer a pirate's lair. It had become a maritime kingdom, a war machine slowly being tempered and honed, awaiting the day it would truly set sail and shake the vast seas.
And its King, Tran Kien, did not drown himself in the pleasures of power. Every night, he still stood upon the highest crag, cultivating in silence, his gaze cast toward the distant south, where the mysterious misty sea lay.
The blade had been tested in blood. It was time to go and seek the final legacy.