Isis nibbled on the cream puff dessert, stunned and speechless as she watched the commotion unfold between two groups nearby, "Your big brother Liszt is sitting right here, hey."
"Aren’t you going to help? Those burly guys even called out your na."
After a reunion of eight years.
Isis was no longer the timorous and well-mannered noble girl. There were attendants guarding her side, not afraid of any trouble, but she puzzled over why Liszt had co to Aran without any formidable followers, even though his influence radiated to the inland, the center of the world in Aran.
Duguli, known for its arts and culture, was a place with excellent public order. Whenever there was a disturbance, there was no intention to join the turmoil; upon seeing hogrown Aran forces clash with those from the East Sea, everyone would avoid them and quickly pay their bills to leave.
And you couldn’t expect a restaurant to have much in the way of security. At most, the chopping block had so heft, but the other servers and attendants could only stand by and watch.
"Damn, have it your way, I’m heading back to my hotown in Beima anyway."
The East Sea guy, nicknad "Edge Three," felt his blood boiling, ready to draw his sword and chop soone, set to decapitate the suit-wearing man in front of him.
And these tattooed pirates were also eager to fight, so with their eyes already showing veins of blood, intent on killing, hands already on the firearms tucked in their pockets.
The hogrown Aran powers had never seen such a display before.
"You son of a bitch, you want to start trouble, huh!"
The lead man in a suit also pulled out a firearm. Didn’t everyone have a gun on them?
It looked like blood and gunfire were about to erupt.
Liszt couldn’t hold back any longer.
Business was all about supply and demand.
The core problem now was that Duguli had a large local interest group monopolizing the art market, which could be described as a gang.
And for the artifacts unearthed from Iron Soul Island in the New Continent to be dumped in Duguli, they had to give the interest group a thirty percent cut.
The people Fen sent to sell the goods were so naive; resorting to murder, how could they do good business?
What Liszt didn’t know was that Fen, acting carefully, had employed two groups to sell Iron Soul Island artifacts: one was his own friends who were Magicians, and naturally, the other was the East Sea Pirates.
Without even thinking, it was obvious that the forr was more reliable.
anwhile, the Black Sail Trading Company’s board of directors identified the problem with this sales chain. The East Sea barbarians couldn’t do business, so Fen simply let his friends step in to sell.
Thus, more logically within the already colossal organization of Black Sail, he ford his own faction that he orchestrated, not to stand as a separate power necessarily, but to hold significant authority and not be pushed around by the other board mbers in the future, affecting his own decisions.
"Miss, you should leave now, beware of stray bullets."
The accompanying guard wanted to forcibly take Isis away.
"No need, I will handle it."
Liszt spoke calmly while wearing his toad sunglasses; he had even shaved his beard, making him look completely different from the man on the Warrant, and with the trendy clothes that old pal Isis had picked out for him in Duguli, he didn’t quite fit the pirate image.
As the Heavenly Mother of the Atomic Heart Church, Mo Yutong was about to receive the lathe parts sent from Pedan, and they were nearly at Heaven Port. It wouldn’t be long before they could produce industrial goods from a bygone era.
And Iron Soul Island artifacts were going to be the key, to build a sales chain from Heaven Port to the inland. The first East Sea products must not fail.
"Everyone stop arguing. I have a better solution."
Liszt positioned himself between the two groups.
Iron Soul Island artifacts were indeed impressive and of cultural value. They could make a lot of money.
But when compared to practical value, cultural value could hardly be considered profitable—just modest earnings compared to the direct rush of sensation through mouth, nose, and brain provided by everyday consumables.
The thirty percent cut was not as harsh as the old East Sea’s sixty-forty split, but it wasn’t insignificant either.
In Liszt’s mind, these artifacts could be sold with reduced profits just to generate a reputation for future sales.
Before the local Duguli power, the Heavenly Eye Society, could speak up,
the East Sea’s scar-faced guy grew impatient, "Who do you think you are? Believe , I’ll chop you right now if you don’t roll out of here before I slice you."
Liszt was speechless—threatened by the underling of an underling’s underling. Having his old friend nearby was quite embarrassing, hey.
The restaurant emptied quickly, and the mbers of the Heavenly Eye Society, who couldn’t afford to be seen, watched as Liszt removed his sunglasses while addressing the East Sea folks, only to promptly put them back on.
"Boss... Boss..." the scar-faced man stamred, slapping himself. Wasn’t the boss in the Narrow Sea Mulong Duchy handling important matters? What was he doing here?
Standing before you is the East Sea Sovereign, the big boss of Black Sail Trading Company, the Great Sage and Master of train robbery, the OG of the Northern Prison.
The other East Sea Pirates were dumbstruck as well.
The suit-clad leader of the Heavenly Eye Society let out a sigh of relief—who doesn’t fear death? These country bumpkins had the nerve to get aggressive just monts before. Now that a civilized person open to dialogue had appeared, it was truly a blessing from the Holy Spirit.
"Is the rchandise in Aran yet?"
Liszt was straight to the point.
"Not yet, but Mr. Wolman has already opened up a route through the Great Wetland. We can transport it to the inland anyti; we’re just waiting to settle the terms here."
Scarface answered earnestly.
Liszt nodded in affirmation. The supply line through the Great Wetland to Heaven should not be disrupted; he had to make a significant investnt in that black big fellow to ensure the supply chain was robust, which was the foundation of a business empire.
"Heavenly Eye Society, is it? Here’s the deal, you want a thirty percent cut—that’s no small amount. Verbal agreents hold no weight. If we pay you protection fees and then soone else cos knocking for their share, wouldn’t that make us look like idiots? Your boss wants thirty percent? Fine, once our first shipnt has arrived and we’ve sold so, you need to show us that the Heavenly Eye Society truly dominates the art trade in Duguli. We have plenty of ti to talk, so relay this ssage word for word to your superiors. We only negotiate with the decision-makers, understand?"
Business can’t be settled in one or two etings.
The people from the Heavenly Eye Society registered the scene of unwelcoming pirates, realizing that no deal would be struck today.
"Our lord is not convenient to show up in person, you know they are soone from the political realm."
"So, an anti-imperialist, huh? We at Black Sail have so misunderstandings with the Alan Royal Court; maybe we can even earn redemption through ritorious deeds. Haha, just kidding. Even if it’s inconvenient, you’ve got to send soone with real authority to talk. All right?"
Liszt’s statent shocked everyone present.
Inside Aran Country, no one dared to discuss national affairs, and the phrase "anti-imperialist" carried heavy implications.
Isis’s attendants drew a sharp breath—these East Sea folks were truly gutsy.
"Damn, you’re tough, let’s go."
The man from the Heavenly Eye Society rounded up his underlings and left the restaurant.
The restaurant’s owner also breathed a sigh of relief; the solid wooden furniture and decorations were worth a significant amount of money.
"In the East Sea anything goes, but when you’re out and about, you need to show so manners," Liszt muttered gravely to the scar-faced man.
"Boss, how co you’re here?"
The East Sea group imdiately beca exceedingly deferential, standing to attention one by one.
Liszt held the sa status as Doringger once did. Apart from the nurous nobles, he was part of the crowd whose words carried the most weight in today’s world.
"That’s a long story. Damn, why did Heaven Port send such a bunch of rookies to handle this?"
Liszt was resigned; he had to send soone reliable who wasn’t one of the Netherworld People to oversee the dealings here in Aran.
After considering his options, there weren’t many. Damn it, all of Black Sail were Netherworld People talking in their opaque language. It was ti to look for soone with a cleaner background among those they’d recruited later.
It seed they only had the Seven Martial Seas to choose from. Weber didn’t have the Intelligence for it, and Gawain had his blood brother left in Black Sail to keep him in check, sadly he’d been involved in the train robbery as well.
"Here’s what we’ll do, I’ll write a letter, and you’ll send it back to Heaven Port. I want Nishi and Violet to co here to temporarily manage the business. Once those two won arrive, let them seek out my friends here—those filthy rich tycoons dealing in iron mine railways—and get a distribution network up and running. Stop resorting to killing people at the drop of a hat, damn it; things are different inland."
Liszt asked the scar-faced man for an inexpensive cigarette and the restaurant owner for paper and a quill pen. He then began writing the letter with fervor, wondering what sort of sche Fen was pulling, leaving such important matters to these clueless fools.
Nishi was a Heroic Level adventurer and a Magician who had graduated from a high-level institution. She had fought alongside him against Doringger, riding the fast track to success. It wasn’t that a Heroic Level adventurer was ever lacking, but battling through winds and rain could hardly compare to daily indulgence in international tropolises. Which upright person would fight to the death for money?
Isis watched as Liszt wrote the letter with earnestness, feeling a ripple in her heart. Eight years ago, she had spent ti with him in Lostra on their way to the Southern Continent. Since then, from Chenxi Port to Duguli, she had abstained, but the timing was now right. Even if she couldn’t escape a political marriage, with the Stargazing Festival in September, marrying her fiancé would an her child would also be Liszt’s. A discrepancy of a month or two in the timing didn’t matter much; preterm births were common anyway.
After Liszt finished writing the letter and stood up, he felt a chill down his spine. What was that about?
Reviews
All reviews (0)