Some say he's a black glove secretly cultivated by the Tong family, loyal and reliable, daring to fight and kill.

Some say this person is the successor quietly groomed by Chen Xingzhou, personally steering Chen Xingzhou's rise to power, even sitting in Lei Wuye's mourning hall, forcing the last heir of Lei Wuye to his death! Others say this person is scheming and deceitful, closely associating with the Lou family, even risking his life to sneak into Jian Yuan's workshop to rescue Lou Yanyue from captivity.

And his teacher, some say, is an unknown nobody that they've never heard of, while other craftsmen… upon seeing Ye Xian's photo, fled without a word, carrying a boat overnight!

After hearing about this incident, the people at Illusion Village Workshop locked their doors, refusing to open no matter how they were called.

The depths of the water behind this are enough to make one's scalp tingle at the thought.

The mix of truths and falsehoods, so chaotic and overwhelming, leaves only one thing that cannot be faked… the rise of Sea Tide Military Industry, in which he undoubtedly played an indispensable role.

Not only did he resurrect the empty shell of the Coastal Automobile Factory, but he also slaughtered four teams in the Desert Sea Rally, and even after the race, personally presided over the reckoning of all participants!

Everyone who had offended him, everyone who attempted to plot against him, from top to bottom, all perished.

Not a single one could escape!

To ascend to the current tier in the Federation's superficially peaceful but secretly deadly competition area, setting aside his abilities and skills, his backing cannot be small either. It's said that even the current governor of Hai Province Town, Lv Yingyue, has to consider his opinions and ideas!

...Who the hell is this person?!

Previously, amidst various rumors, it was said that Ji Jue was hard to deal with, but upon thorough investigation, it turned out to be even goddamn harder.

Halfway through his reading, Pacquiao started feeling suicidal—scratching his head, racking his brains, managing to scratch his bald head layer by layer—unable to understand!

If Ji Jue were in front of him, he would just want to grab this bastard's neck and question him—brother, what's your motive here?!

What's the need for this?!

You rule over Xinquan, look down on us Water Ghosts, thinking we're dirty… why not say so earlier!

You could have said so earlier!

If you had just called me and cursed me out, made me so angry that my blood pressure shot up a time or two… it wouldn't have had to come to this extent today!

Even if I had chosen another path?!

There are countless solutions to this matter, each more convenient, simpler, and easier to resolve than the current head-to-head clash.

Yet, now there's only the path of life or death left.

Pacquiao genuinely has no options left.

Socializing for so many years, everyone focused on tactics, and yet they unexpectedly encountered a man-eating tree!

As a result, he lost a son, lost face, and even lost dignity.

In the end, forced into an untenable position!

Thinking about being driven to such an extent and dangerous situation by some unknown youngster made him furious beyond measure.

Yet, at the same time, thinking about being forced into such a situation with no other options instinctively sent chills down his spine!

At this point, seeking peace is futile, procrastination is merely a slow death; if he wishes to maintain his position and retaliate, then there's only this path available.

Only this path, arranged by the opponent, can be walked!

It feels like being pulled by invisible hands, becoming a puppet, after having roles assigned, unconsciously walking step by step onto the stage.

Within the opponent's control…

Why is he doing this? What's his aim? What exactly does he want… no matter what, it remains unfathomable.

The more he thinks about it, the more he feels an uncontrollable dread seeping through his body.

In the dead silence, he sighed silently.

Outside the cabin, the vague sound of sailors from distant ship groups complaining and chattering could be heard, like tides, silently spreading, entwining, and engulfing him with unending restlessness.

"What's he waiting for?"

A mocking voice arose in the void of the captain's cabin, "And what are you waiting for, 'General sir'?"

Pacquiao remained silent, unspoken.

Only the sound of laughter imbued with regret reverberated.

"You had no choice long ago, did you?"

Pacquiao lowered his eyes expressionlessly, staring at the ornate wine glass that had appeared abruptly on the table, and the sworn wine within, and after a long time, reached out to lift it.

Tilted his head back, drank it down in one go.

"Then it's settled!"

He said to the person on the other side of the glass.

"Of course."

As the wine glass dissipated, transforming into a stream of light, it merged into his chest, entwining his heart, with a promise from the other end resonating within his soul:

"You and we, hereby make this pact."

.

Half an hour later, a high-pitched horn suddenly rose from Pacquiao's flagship, resounding solemnly, unceasing through the thick sea fog and storm.

Within ten minutes, all the ship owners and pirate leaders gathered in the warship's conference room, staring dumbfounded at Pacquiao as he pushed open the door and entered.

Under the scarlet Blood Flames, his hunched figure straightened, iron-gray muscles resurfacing from his frame, no longer old.

Like a giant among midgets, he righteously sat at the foremost position.

Looking down with disdain!

"Issue the order to everyone, immediately weigh anchor and set sail."

Pacquiao wiped the scimitar recently stained with execution blood, issuing a cold command: "From now on, complete silence for all personnel, cut off all communication."

"—In three days, raze Xinquan!"

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