Chapter 62

Amid the chaos, Miguel felt like he was about to lose his grip at any second. Suddenly, a strong arm wrapped around his waist, and the rough breathing of the person behind him sprayed against his ear. The navigator was momentarily stunned—just as he was, the person behind him yanked him backward by the waist, pulling both of them up from the ship’s railing—

The four of them tumbled onto the deck. Miguel, clutching the wound on his waist, lay sprawled on the deck, howling in pain, tears streaming down his face—

“Fuck your uncle!!! It hurts!!!!!”

Accompanying the navigator’s roar were two gunshots fired at close range—

Warm, sticky liquid splattered onto the back of his neck. Panicking, he turned his head to see a towering, one-eyed pirate with a menacing expression looming over him. The bloodstained cutlass slipped from the pirate’s hand. If it weren’t for the two massive bullet holes in his chest, which clearly showed he was no longer a threat, Miguel was sure he would have pissed himself!

Damn it, I almost met the King of Hell.

Patting his chest, the naive navigator turned around and froze. The smoking barrel of a gun was right in front of his nose. Behind the sulfurous gun smoke, those sharp, furious amber eyes seemed even more piercing—

The King of Hell… had never left.

Miguel: “…I can explain.”

As if he hadn’t seen Miguel’s insincere, apologetic yet unrepentant expression, Caesar was currently narrowing his eyes, sizing up his reckless little slave—

Ah, let’s take a look… From the Wind Fury to here, there was no other way but to swing on the rope. Hmm, the rope swing, he had personally taught the little slave; the bandage around his waist was well wrapped, a skill he had personally taught; the clothes he was wearing, the ones he had casually placed on the sofa when they were delivered clean this morning; the belt, no doubt, was exactly the same as the one he was wearing, even with an extra dagger slot; the pants, loosely hanging on his body with the legs rolled up unevenly like a ruffian—

Caesar remembered very clearly that these were the new riding breeches he had bought in Paris two months ago, personally selected, costing twenty-nine gold coins, which he quite liked.

“You’re dead.”

With a dark expression, the captain briefly announced Miguel’s fate. With a long arm, he yanked the purely decorative gun from Miguel’s waist, the familiar, heavy weight in his hand making it unnecessary to even glance down to know its origin. While pondering whether to add locks to his wardrobe, desk drawers, and the captain’s quarters, the man even considered simply putting a dog collar on his little slave—

To keep him from wandering off on his own.

“Get back to the Wind Fury,” the captain said coldly, spinning the gun in his hand, loading it, and firing, taking down several of the Hornet’s gunners in an instant. His face was so dark it could drip ink, as if a storm was brewing at any moment. “Get lost,” he commanded indifferently, “Don’t distract me here—”

The man’s words were abruptly cut off as his eyes flickered, his pupils contracting. In the first second, he swiftly raised his gun and aimed at Miguel’s back, but at the moment he pulled the trigger, he hesitated for a brief moment—

For an ordinary person, this slight hesitation could be easily remedied with a clean follow-up shot.

But for Leoza, this one second was enough to do a lot!

Amid Rick’s ensuing roar, the red-haired youth leaped forward from behind. His movements were incredibly agile, swiftly dodging several brawling minions. His golden eyes flashed with a cold light as he reached out and grabbed Miguel from behind—

Bang!

The sound of the gun hitting the deck echoed, splinters of wood flying everywhere. The spot where the bullet hit was left with a large, charred hole—the exact spot where Miguel had been crouching just a second ago!

“Ah, that was close, you actually shot at me!”

A lazy, teasing voice rang out. Miguel felt a pair of freakishly strong arms tighten around his neck, dragging him up from the deck. Struggling to breathe, he felt a thin body press against him from behind, enveloping him in a strange yet not unpleasant scent of incense. He struggled, but it only resulted in a more brutal restraint!

“Don’t move,” a pale, delicate hand reached out from behind, tracing the edge of Miguel’s dirty, soot-covered face, “I really don’t want to break Xiao Miguel’s neck!” Leoza’s voice still sounded sweet and slightly coquettish, but the words he spoke were chilling.

Leoza? Miguel blinked, his brain struggling to process such a straightforward and slightly brutal betrayal after he had just saved the boy.

“Even if there was another way, I wouldn’t choose to use Xiao Miguel to threaten you, Caesar,” the boy said with a hint of grievance, starting to shift the blame with his twisted logic, “Because after this, he’ll definitely be mad at me and won’t play nice with me anymore. You’re really mad, right, Miguel?”

Miguel: “…”

From Leoza’s cheerful babbling, it at least indicated that Big Dog hadn’t stormed off in a rage… The navigator hung his head, not even daring to look up at his boss’s dark expression.

Amid the gunfire and chaos, the leaders of both sides finally faced off—in the midst of a bloody, time-sensitive boarding battle, they strangely fell into a silent standoff.

A pig teammate? Hah. Miguel lowered his head, wishing he could groan in pain, suddenly realizing he was experiencing the thrill of being a pig teammate with his life on the line.

“—What are you looking down for, you trash.”

Click. The sound of a gun being cocked rang out. The man’s voice was calm in this chaotic environment, betraying no emotion.

…Is this how the King of Hell usually talks?

Under Rick’s cover, the man raised his gun, the barrel pointed directly at Leoza’s forehead. His amber eyes showed no extra emotion, the corner of his lips curling into a cold, joyless smile… The hostage navigator, who had figured out his boss’s temper, knew full well that Caesar was currently in a towering rage.

Caesar: “Apologize now…”

Miguel: “I’m sorry, I’m an idiot.”

Caesar: “It’s too late.”

Miguel: “…”

With one hand holding the gun, the other slowly took a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and placed it between his lips. Throughout the entire process, the man’s focus remained razor-sharp, his hawk-like gaze never leaving the red-haired boy’s hand on Miguel’s throat.

“You can try, see if you’re faster than my bullet, you midget,” the captain said with a sneer, “If he dies, your entire fleet will go to hell with him.”

Miguel: “…”

Why does this kind of declaration, which should sound full of affection, feel so unappealing? TV shows are all lies, damn it! Captain, don’t be rash! If I’m dead, I won’t care what you bury with me—and even if it’s your entire fleet, it’s still not worth my life, right, right?!

“Don’t say that, brother~”

The red-haired boy dragged out his words, rubbing his cheek against Miguel’s. Seeing his boss’s hand holding the gun tremble at this action, Miguel immediately reacted with the strongest resistance he could muster—

Only to have Leoza’s fingers tighten around his neck, the freakish force almost cutting off what little air he had left… Coughing violently, snot and tears threatening to spill from every orifice, Miguel finally realized that the boy behind him wasn’t joking…

If things went south, Leoza would really kill him.

“That look on your face, like you just realized ‘he’s really not a good person,’ makes me want to just let you die, you trash,” Caesar said in a low, dangerous voice.

D-Don’t say it out loud. The boy’s soft, amused chuckle from behind made Miguel feel a bit awkward.

The man pursed his lips, the cigarette in his mouth making his words slightly muffled. His gaze shifted, his eyes filled with disgust as he glanced at Leoza: “State your terms.”

“I want my compass, and for your men to stand down,” Leoza said, “I’ll have my men stand down too—but you go first.”

Faced with the boy’s audacious demand, the man’s eyebrows didn’t even twitch. He simply spat out two words from his tightly pursed lips: “No way.”

Leoza: “Then it’s fine if Xiao Miguel dies, right?”

Caesar: “…”

Miguel: “…Don’t do this, kid! You’re really going to get me killed by the boss.”

Leoza: “But I really want my compass back!”

Miguel: “Stop flirting with me, I’ve turned over a new leaf and I’m not falling for that anymore!”

Leoza: “I’m not flirting, I’m being serious with Xiao Miguel!”

Miguel: “Ahhhhhh—”

Caesar: “All of you, shut up.”

A man of his word.

The small negotiation area on the deck fell into silence once more.

About half a minute later, the man took the cigarette from his lips, tossed it to the ground, and crushed it under his foot. Without looking up, he said expressionlessly, “Your men stand down first, I’ll give you the compass, then get lost.”

The compass pointed to the key clue leading to the mermaids’ lair in the Mediterranean. Without it, no one could find that sea. Without a mermaid’s guidance, the Fountain of Youth would remain undiscovered… Without the Fountain of Youth, Margarita’s curse couldn’t be lifted… Big Dog had been sailing the seas for so many years, wasn’t that his ultimate goal?

I’m just a time-traveling outsider, what am I meddling in this for?

“…Uh, boss,” in the silence, it was surprisingly the dejected navigator who broke it. He looked up and suddenly said with sincerity, “The compass, you shouldn’t give it… cough… you bastard! If I hadn’t pulled you up from the railing just now, you’d be dead meat!”

“I know,” the boy blinked, happily saying, “If you die, I’ll freeze you with a lot of ice. When I find the Fountain of Youth, you’ll come back to life.”

Bullshit!!!

Just thinking about lying in ice, his body gray and covered in corpse spots, being thrown into the ship’s hold waiting for an unreliable legend to bring him back to life, Miguel would rather just die cleanly!!!

“Enough nonsense, you don’t get a say here.”

Caesar’s voice was low and magnetic. He reached into his pocket and actually pulled out the delicate wooden box. With a casual toss, the compass flew in a perfect arc, landing accurately in Leoza’s hands.

“It’s the real thing. I’m not as despicable as you. Have your men stand down first,” the man said as Leoza fumbled to catch the compass and check its authenticity, “Or you can spend the rest of your life at the bottom of the sea with the compass.”

With a snap, Leoza closed the compass, a bright smile returning to his pretty face—he stretched his neck and planted a loud kiss on Miguel’s cheek, then casually pushed the navigator back to his captain.

Grabbing the black-haired young man and tucking him under his arm, Caesar took hold of the rope swing.

“The bill for the ship’s repairs will be sent to you.”

“Huh?!”

The boy’s smile froze.

The man’s expression remained unchanged, as steady as ever: “Or should I ask Margarita for it?”

“Huh?! N-No! That’s not fair! I’ll pay! I’ll pay!!!”

With a cold laugh, the captain of the Wind Fury tightened his grip on the rope swing, tucked his navigator under his arm, and made a grand exit.

A sea battle that had seemed on the verge of escalating into a larger conflict ended with a… well, relatively peaceful parting.

…

Half an hour later, the Wind Fury was reorganized and set sail once more.

Inside the captain’s quarters.

The first mate walked into the captain’s quarters, looking around: “Where’s Miguel?”

Behind the desk, the captain rested his chin on his hand, disinterestedly saying, “He’s reflecting on his mistakes.”

Rick: “…So, where are we heading now?”

Slightly surprised, the captain raised an eyebrow and gave the first mate a look that said ‘are you an idiot?’: “Have you gone senile? We’re going to find those stinking mermaids’ lair.”

Rick: “…But the compass is already…”

Caesar: “…”

Rick: “?”

Caesar: “…”

Rick suddenly understood: “Ah!”

A hint of discomfort flashed across the captain’s face.

Rick: “Where?! Where’s the backup?”

Leaning back comfortably in the soft captain’s armchair, his hands crossed over his stomach, the man revealed a wicked smile—

“…Go next door, strip the pants off that guy reflecting on his mistakes, and you’ll probably find it.”