The corpse of the pirate Ronan had slain hadn't even settled before every pirate in the vicinity snapped their gaze toward him.
It wasn't anger they felt, but panic. They had just witnessed a comrade—one they considered "quite strong"—killed in a single strike by a complete stranger. The man hadn't even had time to react. This level of lethality was far beyond the petty bullying they practiced on the townspeople.
The pirates took a collective half-step back, their grips tightening on their weapons. Not a single soul dared to rush forward. They were pirates, but they weren't fools. They were experts at terrorizing civilians, but facing a genuine killer? That was a different story. After all, you only have one life.
Soon, their eyes shifted in unison toward a specific direction—toward their Captain.
He was a man built like a steel tower, over two meters tall, with muscles coiled around his limbs like heavy cables. He was a human beast. In his hand, he gripped a broad-backed cleaver, its polished edge glinting with a cold, murderous light. His eyes were frigid and violent, filled with bloodthirsty animosity.
The moment he spotted Ronan, his lips curled into a savage grin, like a predator locking onto its prey. He raised his massive cleaver, pointing it at Ronan from a distance.
"Hey, kid—give me a name."
In that instant, the other pirates fell silent. This wasn't out of politeness; it was a ritual performed before they moved in for the kill.
Ronan looked at them calmly, his gaze indifferent. His eyes swept past the grunts and settled on the Captain. His voice was hard as flint.
"Ronan."
The Pirate Captain blinked, then looked at his first mate. "Hey, is there anyone named Ronan among the bounty hunters?"
The mate squinted, sizing Ronan up with the cunning typical of a pirate. "No, Boss. He's not one of the hunters we need to worry about. Looks like... just an ordinary guy who thinks he's a hero because he has a bit of skill."
Hearing this, the Captain's tense expression relaxed by half. His shoulders loosened, and a sneer spread across his face. His eyes, like a venomous snake's, began to burn with excitement.
A stray dog isn't dangerous. A stray dog can be played with until it dies.
He licked his lips, his voice raspy and brutal. "Listen, kid—meddling in other people's business gets you killed."
He swung his cleaver violently, as if pronouncing a sentence. "Men! Let him hear the name of the Split-Sail Pirates!"
The pirates immediately broke into a roar: "Our Captain is a great pirate with a bounty of 3.2 Million Berries!" "Three million! Do you understand that, brat?!" "You dared to kill a member of the Split-Sail crew! You're dead!" "It's not too late to get on your knees and beg!"
Their clamor echoed through the town, but Ronan simply stood his ground. The wind ruffled his clothes, carrying the scent of blood and scorched earth. His eyes remained unruffled, as if the arrogant roars and threats couldn't cause even a ripple in the stillness of his heart.
The power granted by the triple cultivation multiplier surged through Ronan's body like a tide. His bones vibrated, his blood ran hot, and his muscles felt as though they were being reforged. The sensation was vivid and real.
Ronan's breathing grew steadier, yet the light in his eyes grew fiercer. He was impatient. He wanted to see exactly what kind of devastation this perfect body could unleash in this new world.
To these bloodthirsty pirates, Ronan was nothing more than a wolf amongst sheep. They were the perfect test subjects.
As for the danger? Ronan didn't give it a second thought. A martial artist's path is paved with life-and-death struggles. Furthermore, through his honed sixth sense, he could feel their presence—it was as weak and flimsy as tattered rags. The only one who drew even a shred of his attention was the Captain.
"Then I'll start with you."
Ronan exhaled softly and stepped forward—CRACK!
Stones sprayed as he launched himself like a bolt from a crossbow. He trailed his wooden stick behind him, moving so fast he was little more than a blur. One pirate stared wide-eyed, sheer terror washing over his face as he saw Ronan charging. Before he could even raise his blade, Ronan flicked his wrist. Power snaked up from his spine, surging through his arm and into the stick.
The tip of the wood broke the sound barrier with a sharp POP!
PLUCK!
The stick acted like a steel spear, impaling the pirate's heart in an instant. The force was so violent it lifted the man off his toes. Ronan snapped his wrist again.
HUM—!
As the stick was pulled back, a crimson line of blood sprayed into the air. The pirate collapsed, unable to even utter a gasp. Before the body could hit the ground, Ronan's stick was already dancing like a soaring dragon. Infused with internal force, the stick-work blossomed like a violent storm!
"Hah!"
The shadows of the stick moved like whips, like blades, like lightning rending the air. The surrounding pirates saw nothing but a kaleidoscopic blur of wood. Then—a cold sensation at their throats.
SPLAT! SPLAT!
Bloody flowers bloomed in the air. Several pirates clutched their necks, eyes wide with disbelief as they slumped to the dirt. Ronan dropped his center of gravity, tapped his toe, and leaped again. In mid-air, his aura was that of a tiger pouncing on its prey!
He tore into the crowd. Flicking, thrusting, stabbing, parrying—every strike was brutal, precise, and despairingly fast. Amidst the crisscrossing shadows of the stick, screams rose and fell like a battlefield orchestrated by the Reaper itself. In just a few breaths:
THUD! "AAAAARGH!"
Half the pirates were down. If they weren't heavily mangled, they were dead on the spot. Under the firelight, blood began to pool into a thin stream on the ground. Holding his blood-dripping stick, Ronan stood amidst the carnage like a newly awakened beast.
Just as he was about to finish off the remaining lackeys, the violent aura he had been wary of finally moved.
The Captain of the Split-Sail Pirates could no longer restrain himself. Watching his men being mowed down like grass—over half killed in an instant—the two-meter-tall giant exploded in rage. He stopped hoping his men would tire Ronan out. He took a massive step forward, his feet slamming into the earth like a titan.
"You brat—DIE!!"
He roared, veins bulging like pythons on his arms. He swung his massive cleaver, carving a terrifying black arc through the air. In the next heartbeat, he leaped high, the blade's edge gleaming with a piercing chill. With the momentum of a thunderbolt, he descended from the sky, aiming straight for the crown of Ronan's head!
The killing intent was suffocating. Ronan's eyes flashed.
Xingyi Beng-Jin (Crumpling Power) erupted!
The wooden stick vibrated violently in his hands as his internal force saturated the wood. He met that unstoppable blade head-on with a vicious, explosive strike!
"—CRACK!!"
A sharp snap tore through the air. Two-thirds of Ronan's wooden stick was sheared off by the sheer force. However, the massive cleaver also let out a resonant hum, vibrating so violently from the impact that it nearly flew out of the Captain's hand.
The Captain's face twisted. His palm went numb, and he almost lost his grip on the hilt. "Wh-What kind of freaky move was that?!"
The sudden, jarring counter-force fueled his rage, but a seed of dread began to sprout. Ronan was also sent reeling back five or six steps by the impact, gravel crunching under his feet. His palm bled, and his arm felt slightly numb.