Volume 7 - Chapter 582: Massacre

Chapter 582: Massacre

Translator: Translation Nation Editor: Translation Nation

The sounds of violent coughing echoed out in succession.

Many clueless drunkards were staring flabbergasted at their rum bottles, because their rum had turned red. Their intoxicated and sluggish minds were still attempting to clarify the situation. Only until they realized their mouth, nose and ears were oozing out with blood, were they finally enlightened.

"Blimey! Why am I bleedin’?"

A nose bleed was a common occurrence to humans. Be it yellow people, white people or black people, this was a frequently neglected occurrence.

The drunkards only started realizing something was amiss when they had lost control of their body.

However, when that happened, the shinigami had already raised its death scythe above their heads with a sinister smirk.

In this manner, the obstructions before Little Lord Fokke were rapidly swept clean. Anyone who dared to block him were all infected with the black death.

Although Sheyan continued advancing through the human crowd, the gap between both parties were swiftly shortening.

Nevertheless, Sheyan who was already aware of this frightening aspect of Little Lord Fokke, had long thought of his response towards this pestilence outbreak.

RIght now, he directly scurried into what seemed like an exceedingly bustling tavern.

The taverns of this era had many functions. It was like the present era massage parlors, which included supplementary feet wash, tea brewing, cupping jars, acupuncture, tidying the male’s prostate and so on. One could choose to be massaged, or she massaged while one touched, or you do both massaging and touching her*.

(TN: This is a wordplay on the word massage (按摩), which includes the word 按 (pressing/massage) and 摩 (Touching).

Hence, various large taverns in Tortuga apart from being a bar, similarly provided lodging and other functionalities. Some taverns even had other businesses like establishing a gambling den within, while others provided erotic services.

The tavern Sheyan patronized was mainly a gambling den, while alcohol consumption was secondary. Regardless of day or night, the tavern was congested with gamblers; it could be described as an all out warfare of money.

Moreover, the tavern was located in an amazing location, coincidentally within the most prosperous district of Tortuga; analogous to the Jiefangbei CBD of Chongqing China, Wangfujing of Beijing, Central Hongkong or Chunxi Road of Chengdu. Many major characters backed this tavern as well.

This fatty piece of Tortuga meat couldn’t be monopolized by a single person. Apart from Mister Skrtel that Sheyan interacted with previously, there were several other influential backings as well. Of course, one of the largest stakeholder in this, was one of the seven Pirate Lords, the recently defeated Chevalle!

Yet because he suffered a crushing defeat which led to his influence greatly shrinking, he was in urgent need of guarding his personal interests. There weren’t really any other alternatives, Chevalle couldn’t afford yet another setback.

15-16 metres behind Sheyan, was the onrushing Little Lord Fokke. Behind him to his left and right, were a bunch of humans retching while being corroded by a disease. Sheyan’s lips curled into a sneer as he shoved his way into this gambling den.

By the door, two large chaps went to receive him. They were about to speak but were instantly silenced by a hefty pouch of coins that Sheyan hurled at them. Although their faces transmitted a sore because of the pounding pouch of guineas, they immediately offered apologetic smiles and allowed him in.

Sheyan was rather familiar with such environment. Several twists and turns later, he disappeared into the can of sardine packed gamblers.

Thump!

Seconds later, the tavern door was once again pushed over by brute force. A wave of unfathomable chill gusted in, prompting the two large chaps to shiver.

Following that, they met with a pair of frosty eyes, eyes that seemed to conceal thousand fathoms of snow.

"Scram."

The two large chaps were Chevalle’s pirates tampered by a hundred battles. When they scrutinized the full body armour of Little Lord Fokke, they immediately got a bad impression –

"This be a floggin’ place fer gamblin’, we welcome with open hands all who displays a bag of booty. But be stompin’ in with armour ready for battle, mayhaps this idiot wishes to gamble away his body armour?"

Little Lord Fokke’s action was essentially like a robber wearing black stockings and rushing into a bank with a kitchen knife. To them, he was definitely here with malicious desires like pillaging.

Hence, the two large chaps very bluntly revolted upon hearing the word ‘scram’. Both were pirates that would kill without batting an eyelid, and had already thoroughly suppressed themselves by standing here while offering smiles to others.

Thus, the first chap immediately swung a kick towards Little Lord Fokke. When facing an armoured head, he had utterly no interest in testing the hardness of steel with his fists.

Instead, Little lord Fokke bluntly received the kick, before swooping his hand to seize the calf of large chap. In a flash, that large chap could no longer feel his kicking leg. A layer of sky ice could be seen stretching along his calf.

Piank!!! Little Lord Fokke suddenly clenched his left hand, causing the flesh and bones of the chap’s calf to shatter into millions of bloodied ice shards!

That large chap instantly released a blood-curdling scream; but it wasn’t due to pain as all his leg nerves had already experienced necrosis, and numbed completely due to the freezing ice. His scream was the instinctive reaction of personally witnessing the grotesque scene of his own leg shattering.

Soon after, patrons of the tavern nearby started slapping the gambling tables, while violent coughing started to erupt. Blood oozed out from nostrils, as humans began bending over or tumbling to the ground in groans; losing control of their bowels.

After Chevalle’s pirate fleet had suffered defeat, they had started taking precautions against other villains plotting to pillage them; scums who would throw stones at them, after they had fell into a well.

Therefore, this gambling den was stationed with numerous pirates in strict deterrence against sneak assaults from other pirates. Thus, when a commotion arose in this very place, those pirates immediately started swarming out.

Within seconds, pistol gunshots, furious curses and sounds of brawling filled the gambling tavern.

The pirates of Chevalle’s fleet was truly outstanding, being direct subordinates of one of the seven pirate lords. Although they fell short to those pirates of the three legendary pirate ships, they were only inferior by a sliver!

At this moment, Little Lord Fokke was observing the not too distant Sheyan, who was kneeling on the ground and seemingly experiencing incomparable agony; violently coughing as though he was about to faint. The pandemic disease had probably caught up to him as well.

Instantly, Little Lord Fokke’s heart flushed with elated vengeance!

As he was about to approach and apprehend that gutless thief, a torrent of bullets suddenly struck his body; creating pockmarks of sparks against his armour. Right now, the Chevalle pirates were tightly hindering him.

Ye....insect abominations! Ye dare obstruct my path!

A belly of flames boiled within Little Lord Fokke’s heart! All of a sudden, an ice shield emerged from his hands and shielded him from a good portion of barrage. Moreover, one could observe loads of black gas seeping out from his body, slithering towards the surrounding pirates like parasitic serpents.

Still caught up in their assault, some pirates started to experience violent coughing after a short while. Either that, or they clutched their faces with anguished expressions, before falling paralyzed in a pool of blood.

Little Lord Fokke proceeded forward after coughing twice, while conveniently stomping onto the frozen head of the other large chap; shattering it into ice shards!

Yet at this very moment, a human figure leapt down from the second floor of the tavern.

This figure had been hiding within the shadows of a pillar. When he finally appeared, his silhouette was exceedingly lofty but his hands appeared somewhat withered. He was like a bulky and vigorous bag of bones.

His hand was gripping onto an extremely unique chakram weapon.

(TN: A Chakram is a circular weapon with sharp external edges, where one can grip it in the middle.)

The chakram was pitch black with razor sharp exterior. When it was hurled towards Little Fokke, it strangely emitted not a single sound nor form. Yet everywhere it past, it appeared like a broad beheading shadow of death like a rippling darkness carrying a flash of scarlet!

A shimmering blade ray!

Yet for unknown reasons, when that human hurled out the chakram, he couldn’t refrain from coughing as his chest undulated violently.

This offered a buffering opportunity for Little Lord Fokke.

Little Lord Fokke casually grabbed a nearby pirate to cover the incoming chakram. The chakram bluntly ripped the meatshield into two, as blood gushed out wildly from the corpse.

Though that was so, the spinning chakram also grazed against Little Lord Fokke’s right shoulder plate. Inches long sparks sprayed out through the piercing chafing of the chakram blade and armour, resulting in a terrifying gash on the armour!

Evidently, it had also lacerated the flesh within. Except, the flesh couldn't be seen through the gash of the armour, but merely the sight of black gaseous floating out.

Meanwhile, the chakram borrowed the recoiling impact to ingeniously swerve back, before twirling gently around that figure’s finger as it once again shot towards the Little Fokke’s helmet.

By now, Little Lord Fokke had drawn his Symbolic Ice sword as it clashed against the chakram!

Instantly, the chakram ricocheted backwards after having a layer of thin ice condensed over it.

While that human couldn’t contain his incessant coughing, blood didn’t leak out of Little Lord Fokke’s shoulder wound but Instead an oily black liquid flowed out; like fleshy pus of a rotten corpse mixed with formalin. Furthermore, one could distinctly notice the illusory image of that chakram still whirling against that wound, tearing it asunder with rampant frenzy!

"Retreat!" Still clutching his mouth, that human shouted a word, with blood already pouring out through the gaps of his hand,

It could be described that he had exhausted an enormous amount of strength to proclaim that word.

When that command echoed out, every pirate cleanly retreated away like a retiring tide! They even hauled along their dead comrades and weapons.