Chapter 9: Spend Freely as You Wish When You Have Money

Somewhere in the sewers of Tortuga Port, a one-eyed black boss watched Liu Zhi with a hint of resignation.

“We agreed—this is the last batch.”

“Don’t worry, I keep my word. If I say this is the last batch, it’s the last batch. But you have to guarantee the quality. Don’t drag out a bunch of dying old fishmen like last time,” Liu Zhi replied, waving his hand.

Liu Zhi had changed considerably since his arrival at Tortuga Port. He now sported some muscle, evidence of the progress in strength he’d made over this period.

All of it was thanks to money and connections.

After arriving at Tortuga, Liu Zhi relied on Dobby’s contacts to meet Black One-Eye, the underground slave dealer.

For ten days, Liu Zhi bought at least a hundred robust fishmen daily from Black One-Eye, using them as sparring material—almost exterminating every fishman captured in Tortuga Port.

Today’s batch was the last Black One-Eye could produce. If Liu Zhi continued, the underground gladiatorial arena would have no fishman fighters left for opening exhibitions.

As usual, Liu Zhi drew his sailor’s curved blade and stood before Black One-Eye. There was a new aura about him, as if he were standing atop a rolling deck, his body moving naturally with its undulations.

Black One-Eye’s men pushed a group of ten ordinary fishmen from a nearby waterway. They were already accustomed to Liu Zhi’s ways; one man holding a fish spear called out loudly.

“Same as always?”

“Of course. The wine is already outside, as usual. I bought a whole barrel this time, so the rest is up to you.”

“Don’t worry, nothing goes wrong with us here,” replied the spear-bearer, and the others chimed in as well.

With their hands, the ten fishmen were separated, each handed an ordinary wooden stick, and driven toward Liu Zhi.

The fishmen knew their fate. Holding their sticks, they charged at Liu Zhi.

But Liu Zhi was nothing like he’d been fighting fishmen aboard the ship days ago. His steps rose and fell like the sea, easily dodging their attacks.

At the same time, Liu Zhi’s blade no longer merely targeted the fishmen’s tentacles; he focused more on their scales, searching beneath them and their slime for weaknesses.

This made killing fishmen much harder. Even after days of constant combat, it took Liu Zhi some time to finish off all ten.

As Black One-Eye’s men dragged the corpses aside, Liu Zhi steadied his breath and glanced at the numbers that had flashed before his eyes.

“It’s dropped again.”

Seeing each kill grant only +11 or +12 experience, Liu Zhi sighed.

Killing fishmen yielded less and less experience now. He missed that first day here, when every ordinary fishman gave fifty experience points. Now, each one barely gave any at all.

Black One-Eye approached, saying, “What’s wrong, my friend? Why so gloomy today? You’re doing quite well. With your skill, you could easily defeat Tide Hunters and Sea Warriors in the future.”

“Nothing,” Liu Zhi steadied himself. “It’s just that progress these past two days isn’t like before.”

“Haha, you’re overthinking it. Your swordsmanship has reached a bottleneck. More effort won’t help now.”

Liu Zhi’s right hand twitched, spinning the blade in a flourish before sheathing it.

“Yes, it’s a bottleneck. Killing fishmen won’t break through anymore. All that’s left is daily practice.”

He glanced at his attributes—some minor changes had appeared in the Sailor’s Basic Swordsmanship.

[Sailor’s Basic Swordsmanship Lv4 (21+0/9000): Mastery of basic swordplay for sea combat. You have stepped beyond the ordinary, a true virtuoso of this art. Strength +0.4, Agility +0.4.]

[Extraordinary Ability: Wavewalking Combat—by maintaining balance, you can fight fiercely atop the water’s surface. Duration depends on agility.]

Looking at the nine thousand experience required for the next upgrade, Liu Zhi took a deep breath, drew his blade once more, and prepared for battle.

Black One-Eye’s men drove out another batch of ten fishmen, handing over still-bloody sticks.

Suddenly, one fishman, not particularly young, began to gurgle loudly.

Black One-Eye’s men didn’t understand, but Liu Zhi did.

“I’ll fight you. I am a Tide Pilgrim. I’ll make a wager: if you lose, you must let us go.”

Liu Zhi tilted his head, then turned to Black One-Eye, “What kind of profession is a Tide Pilgrim?”

“Oh, it’s what fishmen call their champions. If a fishman becomes a Tide Warrior or Tide Champion, he can venture out alone to challenge other clans. If he defeats ten clans and returns undefeated, he becomes a Tide Pilgrim of the nearby sea. How do you know this? Hardly anyone knows this legend.”

“That fishman challenged me, claiming he’s a Tide Pilgrim,” Liu Zhi said, pointing to the one shouting.

“You understand fishman speech? Impossible—they’re always gurgling. Where did you learn it? Don’t tell me you picked it up dissecting them after every victory?”

“Of course not. I have a knack for languages, and fishman speech is pretty simple. He repeats certain things, and I’ve picked up some.”

Black One-Eye grunted, “So what now? Will you accept his challenge?”

“No way. He’s a strange fellow—only said what he’d gain if I lost, not what happens if he loses. I don’t want to bet with him.”

As he spoke, Liu Zhi signaled Black One-Eye’s men to drive out the ten fishmen.

The shouting fishman hadn’t reacted yet, thinking Liu Zhi was afraid to accept. He lunged forward, snatching a fish spear from one of Black One-Eye’s men, and charged at Liu Zhi.

Black One-Eye was stunned, too slow to call his men to stop the fishman. Liu Zhi raised his blade to meet the challenge, its edge flashing toward the fishman’s face.