All of a sudden, artillery roared!
Amid thunderous detonations rumbling from afar, shells howled through the air, descending like a torrential downpour.
When Renut's fleet was struck by the barrage, no one had even figured out which direction the enemy was coming from...
After Minkler arrived at the designated coordinates, the Seven Cities Joint Defense Fleet had entered full-frequency radio silence, cutting off all communication with the outside. At the same time, they shut down all onboard equipment, drifting with the swell upon the sea's surface to minimize any chance of detection.
With the enemy's shipboard radar actually in their own pocket, camping in the bushes had never felt so comfortable.
The moment Ji Jue gave the signal, the massive fleet roared back to life from the dead silence. Like a beast awakened from long slumber, it moved like a hare unleashed.
Equipment that used to malfunction and blow up at the drop of a hat seemed to regain its youth overnight. Systems that once clashed and interfered with one another now worked in seamless concert, operating at mind-boggling speed. With merely a gentle nudge, the entire chain unfolded smoothly and effortlessly—so slick it brought tears to the eyes of sailors long accustomed to their past inefficiency.
What was even more absurd was an effective artillery bombardment over fifty thousand yards—more than fifty kilometers away... This alone was fantastic enough to grind every conventional naval warfare theory and gunnery manual across the Endless Sea into scrap paper beneath their boots.
While ordinary sailors were merely marveling at how damned accurate their cannons were this time, the personnel in rangefinding, target acquisition, and radar were already seeing spots before their eyes. Stunned, they rose from their posts, opening and closing their mouths in speechlessness, suddenly tempted to open the door and check if absurdity had finally come home to roost.
I mean, come on—main guns lagging more than three generations behind the Federation and Empire, slapped together with a hodgepodge of international systems, would usually miss by a country mile at five kilometers even on a dead-calm sea. Yet right now, amid surging undercurrents and rising winds, they had landed dead center on the bullseye from fifty kilometers away...
It was like a bald old codger cradling a teacup suddenly telling you, "Grandpa was really strong in his youth, you know."
Strong? Sure, very strong.
Isn't this overdoing it just a bit?!
Renut and his crew weren't the only ones dazed—Minkler was just as dumbfounded. His face was blank, his mind unable to process it. All he could do was follow Ji Jue's instructions: maintain a deadpan expression, keep quiet, and pretend to be an inscrutable master.
What else could be said?
Why hesitate to shoot when the box is there? Allow me to fire up the cheats first!
Thunder crashed and cannons roared. Once the ammo reserves in the magazines were completely vented in glorious abandon, the fresh shells that had suddenly sprouted inside the storehouse were hauled up in an unending stream.
The entire Joint Defense Fleet had spent years choked on supplies, resources, logistics, and budget, long accustomed to scraping by on penny-pinching misery. When had they ever fought such a lavish battle?
Aimbot, headlock, infinite ammo, and one-tap whoever shows their face.
How could they lose? Tell me, with firepower this ferocious, how could they lose?!
Things were finally looking up.
Across the entire fleet, from commanders down to deckhands, the corners of everyone's mouths began curving upward... See? Once Clan Head Minkler took power, didn't life get better immediately?
And then, things took a turn for the worse for Renut.
Because while the Seven Cities Joint Defense Fleet was bombarding them, some idiot on one of the ships, too used to smuggling interdictions, reflexively pulled out the radio and started broadcasting over the comms:
"Vessel ahead, halt immediately. This is the Seven Cities Joint Defense. Stop your engines and prepare for inspection..."
For a moment, that stuttering hailing call in a thick local dialect echoed across Renut's Venom Fleet, leaving every panicked face frozen in utter stupefaction.
Wait, that sounded familiar... Didn't they just hear that somewhere?
Wait, what? Where did you say you were from?
The fucking Seven Cities Joint Defense?!
This time, none of them could keep their composure. In impotent fury, they raged: What class are you, and what class are we?! A mere decoration cobbled together from scrap metal discarded by the Seven Families, a pack of mongrels—you dare lay a finger on us?!
Treason! Pure treason! The live-in son-in-law is biting back!
"Never mind whether it's the Seven Cities Joint Defense! They won't dare come close!"
Renut glanced at the projections of those derelict ships on the water mirror, his gaze ultimately landing on the Prosperity, which had gone utterly berserk after swallowing an entire frigate. He recognized where the greatest threat lay right now.
"Deal with that damned monstrosity first!"
Enveloped in blood-red flames, he drew his sword and roared at the top of his lungs, "Raise the Veil! Release the Sacrificial Maidens!"
Boom—
At Renut's command, a cracking sound rang out. In the hold of the Ivory, an iron chest wrapped in layers of talismanic seals shattered with a crash. Immediately after, viscous mist surged out like a waterfall, rapidly spreading and sweeping outward in all directions. Pouring through pre-cut openings in the hull, it settled over the sea like a pale blanket, spreading outward at a breathtaking speed...
In the blink of an eye, it covered hundreds of kilometers. The white mist expanded rapidly, blurring everything in sight like a pale curtain draped between heaven and earth, veiling all things in haze.
Within the rising mist, bizarre silhouettes appeared and vanished. Soul-devouring illusions rose and fell in tandem with the vapor. What should have been ethereal, icy fog now took on an eerie, viscous texture, almost like liquid.
As incoming artillery shells plunged into it, they were ensnared by wisps of yielding mist, rapidly losing kinetic energy and velocity, veering off target, and even tumbling midair.
Even as alchemical creations, their power was heavily dampened, their accuracy and lethality plummeting drastically.
"Then close the distance!"
Without hesitation, Minkler barked out his order: "Notify the fleet! Full speed ahead! Maintain suppressive fire!"
After a momentary hesitation, the officers on the bridge blinked, then relayed the command without further delay. Gone were the usual factional bickering, foot-dragging, and second-guessing.
Instead, it was the deckhands down below—previously brimming with optimism—who suddenly panicked.
"The Sacrificial Maidens!"
As the ships surged forward, the lookouts on deck looked down at the dark strands surfacing in the seawater—countless dense clusters of hair spreading out like thick sea tangle—and threw themselves into a frenzy.
The Veil and the Sacrificial Maidens?!
No, this isn't bandit suppression!
The enemy across from us is the private naval force Luocheng keeps in secret... the Venom Fleet!!!
There was no helping it; those two weapons were simply too infamous, practically the trademark calling cards of the Venom Fleet. In a place like the Thousand Islands, where ghost stories were told to children as bedtime tales, they were household names throughout the Seven Cities!
The Veil that devoured souls and the Sacrificial Maidens that dragged the living into hell—there were far too many horror stories about them. The earlier fervor and joy evaporated in an instant, replaced by sheer panic and bewilderment.
Why had they suddenly picked a fight with the Sukarno family?
Us? Fighting the Venom Fleet?!
The situation flipped on its head in an instant—not just the morale between friend and foe, but the attitudes of the upper and lower ranks compared to when they set out.
Just as the common enlisted men, previously cheering, spiraled into panic, the petty officers and captains who had earlier worn sour, funeral faces and dragged their feet now plunged into a desperate, sink-or-swim frenzy.
Things had already reached this point; there was no turning back. They might as well gamble on Minkler winning!
Otherwise, not a single soul in the Joint Defense Fleet would survive!
Backed by orders from superiors and the cores of the various factions, mid-level officers began enforcing military discipline. They drew sidearms and pressed them against soldiers' foreheads, or made lavish promises of rewards, employing every form of threat and enticement imaginable.
Make your choice: make a name for yourself, or die a nobody?!
You used to spout big words after two beers—now the chance is right in front of you! Do you have the guts to take a swing at it?
Do you want to ride the coattails of a rising dragon to glory, wallowing in luxury cars, gorgeous women, mansions, and yachts, or do you want to lie on a half-meter bunk in a sealed hold for the rest of your life, sniffing other people's sweat and shit as a worthless nobody?!
Faint blood-red flames spread silently.
At key stations on every ship, from the confidants planted by Minkler, an almost imperceptible crimson glow pulsed and flowed from their Sundial wristwatches.
For money, for fame, for status, for the future, or for the desires lurking in their hearts, to survive... As living beings tread the line between peril and temptation, their instinctual thirst for struggle was quietly ignited.
This was the Swarm!
However tiny each spark and wisp of flame might be, as the atmosphere of fanaticism and greed spread, solidifying their resolve to fight and slaughter, scorching blood-flames erupted from the depths of everyone's soul.
Burn away fear; fight unto madness!
Panic and wavering vanished. Driven by the transmission of this fierce resolve, morale surged anew like a miracle!
Full assault!
"The Mycelium's Heritage Burnt Offering is really handy," Ji Jue murmured, caressing Pan Ying on his knees.
Along the vermilion spine of the blade, the Mycelium's brand blazed with fiery light. Even without fungal strains offered as tribute, the Sacrificial Lord had already bestowed its boons with immense generosity, charging no sacrifice whatsoever and letting Ji Jue overdraft like swiping a credit card.
The Swarm never fussed over bureaucratic nonsense. To the Sacrificial Lords, anyone who dared fight was a brave soul, and whoever could win was a good kid—rewards and blessings were handed out in abundance.
Besides, the Mycelium itself had been Pan Ying's angel investor, continually following through on every investment round right up to now; its favorability toward him was already maxed out!
While such a wide-area blessing was subtle on an individual level, the greater the number of individuals, the more terrifying the resulting boost became.
The burnt offering had commenced long before the battle even began. Mediated through the modified Sundial wristwatches, everyone wearing one counted as a member of the Mycelium. Their fighting will and desire to win served as firewood thrown into the flames, unceasingly bolstering morale and stoking bloodlust.
Even small fry like the Seven Cities Joint Defense, demoralized and indolent for so long, had the guts to clash head-on with pirates like the Venom Fleet once the blood rushed to their heads!
At this moment, Ji Jue was far more intrigued by what the enemy had unleashed...
The Veil and the Sacrificial Maidens?
No wonder his master always told him that lurking in Yacheng would never amount to anything and urged him to venture out into the world. He had barely arrived in the Thousand Islands, and his eyes were already being opened.
"The stench of a Tyrant."
Perceiving the shifts outside through the quicksilver mist, Ji Jue gradually pieced it together. "Are these corrupted disorder objects forged through the spiritual pact of the Tower?"
Both were manifestations and embodiments of twisted rules.
The Veil obscured vision, weaving illusions through mist, while the Sacrificial Maidens were living entities composed entirely of countless strands of hair, ensnaring everything in their path... In all fairness, neither was particularly difficult to deal with, but they were remarkably targeted.
Such creations capable of large-scale interference with their surroundings were weapons of war forged specifically for naval combat, designed to restrain enemies to the greatest possible extent.
The Veil disrupted long-range weapons and firepower, while the Sacrificial Maidens pinned down maneuverability and dragged targets in. The longer the battle dragged on, the more exhausting it became, until the enemy ran out of ammunition and supplies—at which point a boarding action would deliver the final blow.
It was engineered to maximize their own safety and even... the preservation of the spoils.
Truly meticulous planning!
As for how psychopathic the process of creating these two monstrosities was, or how many souls and lives had been fed into them as sacrifices and fuel, that was an entirely different matter.
Chapter 695