Chapter 277: 270, The New mber of the Pirates
Charles had received modern education and always believed that it was not certain specific groups of people that were evil, but certain morally degenerate actions. Humans had erged from a primitive state of raw at consumption and blood-drinking, having gone through nature’s cruel selection, and gradually developed feelings of sha, morality, dignity, love, compassion, and more.
This was civilization, and it was also shackles.
Slave traders did not possess any noble sentints. They trafficked Beastn as well as humans, could trade natives as well as nobles from the New Continent, and it was even possible that so slave traders dealt in the citizens of Fars or Inglima—it was just that he had not encountered any yet.
It was a sinful industry.
It should be abolished with violence.
Charles tried to put aside all distractions. After all, in such an environnt, his transford Hunchback Red Bear self, though considered “slender” in bear terms, was still tall by human standards and very uncomfortable.
In such a state, he could only practice the Bloodthirsty Fighting Spirit for a while and empty his mind.
When in the state of cultivation, he could ignore the harsh environnt outside, which made him feel a little better.
The cultivation of Bloodthirsty Fighting Spirit, like the human Fighting Spirit, required the condensation of a power seed, which is the concentration of vitality.
Back in his days at Behemoth National College, Charles had practiced the Lamia Breathing Technique, also known as the Siren Breathing Technique, for a while. This breathing technique could replace sleep and allowed mastery over water, but he did not succeed in its cultivation.
Charles didn’t think that cultivating Bloodthirsty Fighting Spirit would be very different from his past experiences, but as he delved into cultivation, he felt a lively vitality stirring all over his body, constantly gathering towards his lower abdon.
His lower abdon gradually heated up, as if a small lump of charcoal had been lit, warming his entire body. Even in the damp and dark ship’s hold, his bear fur was not so wet anymore.
In his Beastman state, due to the different body structure, Bloody Glory was in a sealed state, but the power seed condensed through the Lamia Breathing Technique during his early years at the National Academy—having never broken out of its cocoon and long ignored by Charles—suddenly erged and then shattered the next second, rging into his lower abdon.
Initially, Charles thought that after years of “hard work,” he had finally witnessed the ergence of the power seed.
But the reality was that the power seed, condensed through the Lamia Breathing Technique, had been completely shattered.
Reflecting on “his” past, Charles couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. This was like a final farewell to “the past,” as even the last trace of the forr Charles klen disappeared from this world.
This essence of life, although not very strong, was still the result of several years of arduous cultivation by Charles klen. After it entered his lower abdon and combined with the vitality concentrated by the Bloodthirsty Fighting Spirit, a small “seed” was quietly born.
With the formation of this seed, it was like having an “on/off switch” inside his body, allowing him to control the concentration or release of vitality.
While Charles was experiencing this entirely new sensation of cultivation, he heard soone shout loudly, “Wretched slaves, co out! Those who don’t will die down there forever.”
Charles gathered his spirits and was the first to climb out of the ship’s hold. The dazzling sunlight made him squint involuntarily, and after a while, he gradually adapted to the brightness outside.
One after another, Beastman slaves crawled out of the ship’s hold. The crew of the slave ship continued to count. After a while, so went down, dragged out a dozen corpses, and cast them into the sea without a second glance.
Charles noticed that the horizon before him was an island of imnse allure. It was so elevated that it could be considered a miniature mountain at sea, with the entire expanse transford into a fortress. Alchemical Cannons pointed in every direction from their gaping mouths.
Surrounding the island, nearly a hundred rchant ships were anchored, half of which were slave ships. Apart from Beastn, most of the slaves were natives from the three Inglima islands, and a very few were from the New Continent, where natives usually fetched a high price.
These slaves would be sold off in various directions, for instance, those from the New Continent would definitely be shipped to the Five Great Empires. Only Empires like Fars and Inglima, with their affluent citizens, could afford such luxury commodities.
The natives of the three Inglima islands would generally not be sold back there but rather transported to the Old Continent to be sold to Fars, Byron, and the like, with a minor portion also sent to the New Continent.
The sale destination for Beastn was exclusively the New Continent; why would the great empires of the Old Continent bother to purchase such beings when they already considered them too nurous?
Charles was born in another world, and the education he received was also from another world; he could not accept such a blatant trade in sin.
But at the mont, he was powerless to do anything about it.
The slave ship summoned the Beastn to the deck simply to throw the dead ones overboard. The sailors fetched several Beastn and buckets of seawater to clean the lower deck and then cramd the slaves back in.
Soon enough, the slave ship entered Saint Michael Island.
Charles and the others were transferred from the ship to a make-shift warehouse where they stayed for half a day. Then a man arrived, donned in the vividly colored shirts and dyed shorts that pirates favored, to select slaves.
Charles, tall and young-looking, was quickly chosen.
He was initially worried that he had been selected by another slave trader, but that concern soon dissipated. Charles, along with the few hundred selected slaves—part Beastman but mostly regular humans—were forcefully taken to the walls of Saint Michael Island and assigned to heavy labor, moving various materials under supervision.
With his robust physique, Charles was tasked with carrying stones to nd the walls.
Having lived two lifetis, Charles had never undertaken such nial work. But now, with his current status, he had to bear the indignity and slowly operate the seed of his strength, carrying the stones and deliberately dragging out the labor.
It wasn’t until evening that soone brought a bucket of murky slop, made from who knows what, with a foul sll to feed the working group. Hungry, the slaves clambered over one another chaotically to eat.
Charles, however, seized the chance to look around. When he spotted a pirate sound asleep in a corner of the battlent, he thought, “Opportunity knocks!”
He quietly crept up and gave a determined push, sending the pirate tumbling over the edge. Just as the pirate was about to fall from the battlent, Charles suddenly reached out, grabbed the man’s wrist, and shouted, “Quick, save him! Soone’s falling!”
The unfortunate pirate, having been abruptly awakened as Charles pushed him off, was already shouting frantically with a horrified expression, crying out, “Don’t let go!”
Several pirates nearby, noticing the commotion, rushed over and, all hands on deck, managed to pull the fallen pirate back up.
With a ek expression, Charles pretended to join the rush to eat but was stopped by a subordinate pirate leader who eyed him up and down before saying, “I just happen to need people in my team, co with .”
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