Chapter 466: The Counterstrike

The wind howled like a living beast, blades clashed with a metallic shriek, and anguished screams tore through the air. On the deck, the sea was awash with blood, the collision of lives palpable, as if heaven and earth themselves had been shredded by the chaos.

Thanks to Zhu Ping’an’s warning, the fleet had at least prepared some defenses, and the pirates suffered considerable losses as they tried to board. Yet, despite the careful precautions, the overwhelming numbers and the pirates’ reckless audacity meant that many of them still managed to climb aboard.

The ship that Zhu Ping’an was on seemed to have drawn the pirates’ main focus. Two large pirate ships and several smaller ones swarmed this vessel, a ship whose obvious luxury made it a prime target. The sailors fought desperately, and though their weapons outmatched the pirates’, the sheer disparity in numbers, combined with the pirates’ fearless assaults, left the ship trembling on the brink of collapse.

Blades danced in the sunlight, guns roared like thunder—the battle escalated into a fevered frenzy. The pirates surged forward with wild abandon, thriving in close-quarters combat where sheer audacity often outweighed technique. Among them, the one-eyed pirate and the black-striped warrior wielding a massive katana moved as if no one stood in their way, slicing through the deck like ghosts of death incarnate.

A hook attached to a chain arced through the air, latching onto the ship. Bare-chested and sinewy, a pirate swung himself aboard with the agility of a monkey, flipping over and landing squarely at the prow.

Right. In. Front. Of. Zhu Ping’an.

Zhu Ping’an had sensed something was off the moment the hook arced toward the ship, but he hadn’t expected the pirate to climb so fast. Before he could fully react, the intruder had already flipped onto the deck right in front of him.

Gritting his teeth, Zhu Ping’an slashed with his blade, aiming for a decisive strike—strike first while the enemy is still vulnerable.

But this pirate had lived by the edge of a blade for years. Though Zhu Ping’an’s strike came from nowhere, honed reflexes born from blood and death guided the pirate’s body. He twisted, ducked, and let the short blade glance past harmlessly.

And then—he gave Zhu Ping’an no second chance.

The pirate’s body spun aside and his boot slammed into Zhu Ping’an’s stomach.

The impact was like being struck by a cannonball; the sensation of ribs and gut compressing in an instant made Zhu Ping’an’s stomach churn. Pain radiated through him as his body skidded across the deck, sliding several meters back.

This was the difference in strength. Zhu Ping’an cursed his own neglect of physical training amidst years of bookish study, realizing that even a scholar could be utterly powerless against a fighter. Without training, even a learned man could be beaten senseless—just like him, right now.

“Failing the rape and getting beaten instead…” Zhu Ping’an wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, forced a wry smile, and muttered to himself softly.

“Ahhh—”

Sliding helplessly, Zhu Ping’an found himself at the very edge of the cabinet where Li Shu and the little maid, Baozi, were hiding. A high-pitched scream erupted from behind the cabinet, trembling and raw, unmistakably feminine.

Listening closely, Zhu Ping’an recognized Baozi’s voice.

“Zhu Ping’an! Are you okay?” Li Shu peeked out from her hiding place, worry etched into every line of her face, tears welling in her eyes.

At the doorway, the bare-chested pirate caught the scream and glimpsed Li Shu’s delicate, radiant face. His legs went weak for a moment.

A foreign accent cut through the air, unmistakably that of a Japanese pirate—a “guizi” pirate.

He looked like a boy with no strength at all. Just a single kick had already made him cough up blood. And now, two delicate young women were here. His pulse raced; his mind burned with desire. The pirate captain had said: “Whoever seizes them first, it’s theirs.”

Fueled by greed and lust, the pirate raised his blade, stepping toward Zhu Ping’an. First, he’d crush the “weakling,” then indulge himself with the girls. Killing and pillaging came naturally to him—no hesitation, no mercy.

“Don’t—” Li Shu’s tears fell as she raised her small crossbow, aiming at the pirate, but her shot went wildly astray, missing by miles. Panic and frustration froze her fingers; the second bolt wouldn’t load.

“Ha ha ha…” The pirate laughed, confident and unrestrained, advancing on Zhu Ping’an.

Zhu Ping’an lay against the cabinet, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, utterly immobilized by the pirate’s brutal kick. One finger refused to move.

The pirate’s eyes burned with scorn. A Ming man so weak, so helpless… yet somehow entitled to two such beautiful women? Outrageous. Such a wretch didn’t deserve to live, let alone enjoy such pleasures. He raised his knife, intending to behead Zhu Ping’an.

Li Shu and Baozi squeezed their eyes shut, screaming, “No, no, no!” Their terror only fueled the pirate’s bloodlust further. He reveled in the thought of killing this weakling and claiming the women for himself.

Just as Zhu Ping’an’s life teetered on the edge, he spoke, calm and deliberate:

“私は内奸，私を连れて行って见頭首，私は知っていて気安く場所を決めている。”

(I am a traitor. Take me to your leader. I know the location of the treasure.)

Raising his head, Zhu Ping’an met the pirate’s gaze, speaking fluent Japanese, serene and fearless, as if no harm could touch him. Slowly, he reached into his chest and produced a white silk handkerchief, folded like a treasure map.

The words were from a school play he had once participated in—he’d joined a drama club because of a girl he secretly liked. Sadly, he never even got her number afterward… but the lines now served him perfectly.

Li Shu and Baozi were frozen. They couldn’t understand Japanese and thought Zhu Ping’an had lost his mind, babbling nonsense.

Even the Japanese pirate paused, stunned. In the vastness of the ocean, a familiar voice struck like lightning. Though still wary, his hand hesitated.

And the mention of a “treasure map” hit him in the heart. Why else risk everything as a pirate if not for wealth? This map—the treasure of this very ship—was the prize he had been dreaming of.

His eyes gleamed with desire, but he had no intention of sparing Zhu Ping’an. The map was his alone; the scholar could die once it was obtained.

Zhu Ping’an, lying weak and defenseless, was nothing more than a fish on a chopping block in the pirate’s eyes. The pirate expected nothing more than to snatch the map and behead him.

But as Zhu Ping’an produced the handkerchief, feigning submission, his moment of cunning struck. In a flash, he spread the cloth open, a powdery white cloud erupting across the pirate’s face.

“Ahhh—!” the pirate screamed, clutching his burning eyes in agony.

Zhu Ping’an smirked, leapt to his feet, and drove his short blade into the pirate’s chest, piercing through to his back. Blood sprayed across Zhu Ping’an’s face, red and hot.

The pirate only managed a single, guttural scream, shock etched across his features, before collapsing in a lifeless heap.