Chapter 4335 — Bound for the Xianpeng Isle

The black-robed man at their head was struck dumb by the sight. He stood rooted to the spot, speechless for a long moment. The third and fourth might have been a notch below him, but they were still masters at the peak of the late Golden Core stage—and yet, right before his eyes, they had been swatted down as easily as one might brush away a fly.

The docks had only just reopened, and the shore was still close at hand, so many other vessels were putting out to sea in company. Seeing the two men plunge into the water, crews came out onto their decks to gawk, yet not a soul lifted a finger. They merely gathered, wagged their tongues a while, then steered a wide berth around the spot.

Having swept both the third and the fourth away, Wei Zhao turned his gaze upon the black-robed leader. The man gave a violent start; his first reflex was neither to resist nor to flee—it was to drop to his knees with a heavy thud.

"Brother—no, Senior! You must be a Nascent Soul master, sir! Forgive me, I was wrong, we were blind and ignorant and offended you. Be magnanimous, great one, and spare this worthless life of mine, I beg you! Your boundless grace I shall never forget so long as I have teeth in my head!" The black-robed man babbled his pleas without pause, not sparing a thought for the dignity that befitted a Golden Core expert.

To knock two late-Golden-Core masters flying with a casual flick, right in front of his eyes—in the black-robed man's mind, Wei Zhao was now unquestionably a Nascent Soul master!

Looking back now, the fact that they had dared to rob this man's convoy could only be put down to the fearlessness of the ignorant—and to truly monstrous luck. Had this man not deliberately concealed his strength and held back from striking, the lot of them would have died long ago, their corpses torn to pieces. There was no way they would have lived to this day.

Even as he groveled shamelessly for his life, the black-robed man was silently counting his blessings, thanking heaven that he had held back a moment ago and not joined the attack. Otherwise he would by now be lying on the seabed beside the third and the fourth.

He watched Wei Zhao's expression with the utmost care, knowing his life or death hung on the man's every whim. It was not that he did not want to run; the power Wei Zhao had displayed in that single instant was simply too terrifying. Even if he tried to flee, he would never get away.

Wei Zhao looked him up and down, his face blank the whole while, saying not a word. The black-robed man's heart pitched and tossed like a boat in a storm. To have one's life held in another's hand, to wait at the edge of death for the verdict—such pressure was more than an ordinary man could bear.

For all that the black-robed man fancied himself a veteran who had weathered countless storms, he could hold out no longer and scarcely dared to draw a full breath. From half-kneeling he sank into a half-prostrate sprawl, so frightened he nearly wet himself on the spot.

"Little Black," Wei Zhao said suddenly, his tone mild, "what do you think I ought to do with you?"

"Little Black?" The black-robed man blinked, utterly bewildered, and raised his head to look at Wei Zhao.

"What, are you not Little Black? Then why the black robe and black trousers, and that black band tied round your head?" Wei Zhao said with a sidelong glance.

"Eh? Oh—yes, yes, Senior is right, I am Little Black!" The black-robed man nodded hurriedly, the corner of his mouth twitching all the while. I dressed like this to look fierce, to look imposing, so that anyone with eyes would know I'm not to be trifled with—how in the world did I turn into Little Black? What kind of name is that for a man…

"Tell me yourself," Wei Zhao said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Do you want to die, or do you want to live?"

"Live, of course I want to live!" the black-robed man answered without hesitation. Who would choose to die if there were any way out? He still wanted to live well, to enjoy a few hundred more years.

"You want to live? Very well. I have little taste for killing in any case, so I'll grant your wish." Wei Zhao gave a slight nod.

"Truly… truly?" The black-robed man was overjoyed and hastily kowtowed in thanks. "Thank you, Senior! Thank you, Senior! Your great kindness I shall never forget so long as I have teeth in my head. We shall meet again, we shall surely meet again!"

As he spoke, the black-robed man scrambled to his feet and turned to leap into the sea. Compared with staying aboard, he would rather jump—even if he drowned for want of swimming skill, he dared not remain on this ship a moment longer. What if this murderous fiend had a change of heart and decided killing him was, after all, the better choice?

"Come back!" Wei Zhao's voice went cold at once, and the black-robed man gave such a start that he froze mid-step, trembling as he waited to learn his fate.

"D-does Senior have further orders?" the black-robed man asked, forcing down the shudder in his heart.

"Did I ever say you could leave?" Wei Zhao sneered, his expression unfriendly.

"B-but…" The black-robed man's heart sank to the pit of his stomach. He stammered for a long while without producing a word, one thought alone filling his mind: Damn it all, this is the end—the murderous fiend has gone back on his word after all!

"Sail this ship for me!" Wei Zhao ordered coldly. The whole reason he had kept this man alive was to have him steer the vessel.

After all, he had never sailed alone in his life. Even if he could learn to handle a boat—and with his abilities that would come easily enough—handling a boat and navigating the sea were two different matters. Should some mishap arise along the way, he might not be able to cope on his own; he needed an old hand at his side. This black-robed man, a pirate by trade, was surely an expert, and thus exactly the right choice.

"Eh? Sail?" The black-robed man had thought his end had come, and at Wei Zhao's words he was overjoyed. So it was not to be a killing after all! So long as he could keep his miserable life, never mind sailing—he would eat dung if he were told to. He nodded again and again and asked hastily, "Yes, yes—where does Senior wish to go?"

"The Xianpeng Isle," Wei Zhao said, then sat himself down to one side. The Fang Family Estate on Xianpeng Isle had been the destination of that ill-fated convoy. Wei Zhao had now seized the cargo ship back from the pirates, but he had no intention of keeping it for himself, so he might as well see the good deed through to the end.

"The Xianpeng Isle?" The black-robed man was slightly taken aback, but he dared not ask more, lest Wei Zhao take offense and change his mind again. He bobbed and scraped and hastened to do as he was told.

Of all the islands in the Weihu Sea, the Xianpeng Isle lay closest to the Southern Isle. It was shrouded in miasmal fog the year round, and few people lived there; there was no profit to be had. Not only ordinary traders but even pirates shunned the place—after all, it was easy prey to attacks from the Southern Isle's spirit beasts, and dangers lurked on every side.

But now that the word had come from Wei Zhao, the black-robed man could only grit his teeth and obey. Going to the Xianpeng Isle merely meant running some risk; defying Wei Zhao meant being killed on the spot. Which to choose was plain enough.