"Nonsense."

Pacquiao glanced with disdain, not concealing his contempt: "What? Wasn't he always like this in previous years? Always opening his mouth wide, yet this time, he's not interested?"

"Ling Liu undoubtedly has his considerations, but Chen Xingzhou is not to be trifled with... Besides, there's a mad dog in Spring City." Ling Shuo sighed regretfully: "Last time, Ling Zhou acted recklessly on his own, causing Ling Liu to lose face, almost bringing an admonishment from the leader, naturally unwilling to repeat the mistake.

However, before coming here, Ling Liu gave instructions—if the General is interested, he's willing to help you contact various places and provide support.

As for the reward..."

He paused for a moment, raised two fingers, and smiled clumsily: "The share remains unchanged, two percent will do."

As soon as he spoke, the entire assembly hall fell completely silent.

Before Pacquiao Giddens could speak, countless captains and water ghosts stood up, angrily cursing—"Are you crazy? You're trying to take two percent from the profits just for fencing some goods, laundering money, contacting suppliers, and knocking on the side drum?"

"Why don't you just drop dead?!"

Ling Shuo was not to be outdone, retorting sharply.

In an instant, there were those stoking the fire, those provoking, and those watching the spectacle with a sneer, the entire assembly hall was once again in chaos, until a crisp tapping sound echoed from the top seat.

Pacquiao tapped his cane.

Instantly, all noise vanished without a trace, in the dead silence, a violent spiritual fluctuation spread. Those dim old eyes suddenly glowed scarlet, fierce and brutal, like a demon appearing, making everyone tremble with fear.

Just like that, in the silence, Pacquiao turned back, looking at Ling Shuo, his smile unchanged, still kind: "How could a child like you make such decisions?

If Ling Liu wants two percent, that's fine, but... he needs to personally come and tell me, you understand?"

For a moment, Ling Shuo was silent, under the gaze of those eyes, breaking into a cold sweat involuntarily.

He said nothing more.

The meeting continued, under Pacquiao's indifferent gaze, the intentions of various parties completed integration—'Harlot Town Pirate Group's Rainy Season Special Plundering Action Command Center' finally set up.

Just at the end of the meeting, someone hurriedly came in, bent down, whispered in Pacquiao's ear, Pacquiao nodded with a smile and tapped his cane again.

But this time, it was without the previous icy chill and fierceness, full of warmth.

"Just in time, Jonathan is coming back, let me introduce everyone."

He invited everyone to stay, slowly saying: "I don't have many children, Jonathan is the most promising, a few months ago, he just advanced to Rebirth. Maybe some don't know him, but this time I'm planning to have him replace me, to host this event.

Everyone as uncles and elders, when you meet at sea in the future, please give me face and take care of him."

"Hey, look at you saying that!"

"The waves of the long river push the waves forward."

"I watched that kid Jonathan grow up, knew he would be successful!"

"Maybe everyone will rely on him for care in the future."

In an instant, praises continued, drums and gongs blaring. Seeing the old man about to push his heir to the top, everyone naturally praised together, racking their brains for good words.

After all, a sedan chair carried by multiple people is easier, and speaking a nice word won't cost any meat.

Suddenly, Pacquiao's smile vanished without a trace.

His dry, elderly face, the shadowy fierceness in his eyes surpassed the past, causing the entire gathering hall to tremble, swaying.

And he had already looked out the window.

Anger barely contained!

Amidst the dense sea fog, a familiar ship gradually emerged.

As it was approaching, the radio channel was verifying port secret codes as usual, reporting status. But for some reason, this time the static was loud, continuous interference, difficult to hear clearly.

The dark-skinned supervisor at the control tower repeatedly confirmed, finally hearing a familiar voice.

"Everything is normal, about to dock."

But for some reason, the voice was trembling, distorted, difficult to clear.

Moreover, it was repeatedly repeating, repeating, repeating... until countless scrambled words piled together, turning into a chilling scream and cry: "Everything... Everything normal... nor-nor-normal... Help... dock... dock dock dock... help... report tower, everything normal, normal, help, help me... normal... ah ah ah ah!!!!!!"

At last, a sudden piercing scream burst forth.

The scream and howl kept roaring, crying and choking, cursing or praying, chaotic and unspeakable. Only the sinister cold echoed in the channel, soaked with resentment and despair.

And when the clouds dispersed, under the rising scorching sun, the mist cleared, everyone finally saw...

That ship full of holes, covered in cracks.

Like it had been brutally gutted, leaving only an empty shell scattered with cracks, relying on the last bit of fuel and remaining power, covered with rust marks, the ship spinning around, slowly drifting towards Harlot Town.

The hull, everywhere were dried blood stains.

On the deck, covered with remains long rotted and swollen under high temperature, empty black eye sockets facing the scorching sun, the fragmented face, curved cracks extending sideways, resembling an exaggerated laugh.

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