How Many Shillings for Last Night?

The firelight on the docks gradually receded behind them.

The cleanup efforts of the Seventh Agency were already in full swing.

The crisis at the port had temporarily drawn to a close.

Elias withdrew his gaze.

Without a word, he followed behind Old Crowley, walking along the docks toward where the supply ship was moored.

Walking at the very back was Bloodsong.

The Resurrectionist was walking incredibly slowly, his footsteps so heavy it felt as if lead had been poured into his soles.

Reluctance was written all over his face.

The three of them cut through the thick fog and reached the end of the pier.

Climbing up the swaying rope ladder, they boarded the dilapidated two-masted supply ship one after another.

The deck was quiet, with only the sound of waves lapping against the hull.

As soon as Elias found his footing, he spotted a tall figure.

It was a familiar face.

First Mate Malcolm.

Standing by the bulwark like an iron tower, Malcolm held a storm lantern, quietly waiting for them.

Looking at the taciturn first mate, Elias felt a slight stir in his heart.

He didn't hesitate.

Under the cover of the night and the brim of his hat, he quietly activated 【Moon Vision】.

Soon, Elias saw the spiritual state within Malcolm.

His pupils contracted slightly.

One, two, three.

A total of three stable, restrained, and glowing spiritual nodes!

He was actually a Scale Three as well.

Elias was hit with a wave of realization, clicking his tongue inwardly.

No wonder.

No wonder when he first saw him on the island, the guy carried things like a superhuman.

Elias compared him to himself.

He was currently a Scale Two.

He could already clearly feel that after stepping into Scale Two, his physical recovery, explosive muscle power, and internal organ pressure resistance had all far exceeded the limits of ordinary humans.

And Malcolm was a Scale Three.

For a melee-type transcendent who had stepped into the realm of Scale Three, their physical strength was absolutely a qualitative leap.

Just then.

Malcolm glanced at the bloodstains and disgusting fish-monster viscera covering Elias and Bloodsong.

He didn't show any unnecessary emotion.

He merely gave Elias a calm, slight nod.

It served as a greeting.

Then, Malcolm turned his head to look at his captain.

In a flat tone, he spoke.

“We knocked that woman out.”

“?”

Old Crowley paused in his action of cleaning his pipe.

A look of confusion appeared on his wrinkled old face, and he shot an inquiring glance at his first mate.

Knocked her out?

I asked you to watch over an ordinary woman with zero combat capability on the ship.

And you went ahead and put her to sleep physically?

Facing his captain's confusion, Malcolm raised his brow slightly.

“She was too noisy.”

“Ever since you went to help.”

“She kept clamoring to see you.”

“To calm her down.”

“We told her the truth, that you weren't on the ship.”

“But she refused to believe us.”

Malcolm spread his hands, showing his helplessness.

“She was convinced we were lying, and she even started screaming on the deck.”

“She was shouting for help.”

“And she kept saying that we were kidnapping her.”

Malcolm summarized.

“I had no choice but to use the most effective method to quiet her down.”

“...”

“Uh...”

Bloodsong, who had been trying his best to minimize his presence at the back, finally couldn't help but speak up weakly.

“Lord Crowley,” Bloodsong cautiously reminded him, “our Resurrection Society... doesn't do human trafficking, right?”

At those words, Old Crowley's face turned as black as the bottom of a pot.

What kind of nonsense was that?!

He fell silent for half a minute.

Feeling rather irritated, he stuffed his pipe into his mouth and took several deep puffs.

He roughly exhaled the thick smoke of cheap tobacco from his nostrils.

“The girl was too tense.”

“A little sleep will do her good.”

The old man squeezed out this incredibly unconvincing defense.

Elias let out a cold laugh from the side.

“Look at you, Whitebeard.”

“This is what you call your true colors showing after committing too many sins.”

Elias began to scold him without mercy.

“Anyone could tell with their eyes closed that our mission to the lighthouse is extremely dangerous.”

“Yet, for some unspeakable motive, you insisted on dragging along an ordinary person with absolutely no ability to protect herself.”

“And now look. Not only are you restricting her personal freedom, but you also condoned your subordinate using physical violence to knock her out.”

The more Elias spoke, the more he felt something was off.

Combined with the old man's shady behavior on the docks earlier, an absurd guess suddenly flashed across his mind.

He leaned in closer.

“Hey.”

“Tell me on the down-low.”

Elias stared intently at the old man's weathered face, lowering his voice.

“You're getting up there in years. Do you have some kind of special hobby?”

“For example, do you have a habit of adopting godsons or goddaughters wherever you go?”

Elias's original intention was to disgust the old man with this highly venomous sarcasm.

But he never expected that upon hearing this question, Old Crowley didn't get angry, nor did he refute it.

Instead, he leaned in toward Elias with a highly shady grin.

The old man winked and nudged at Elias, the wrinkles on his face blooming with joy.

“I do!”

The old man answered righteously, even carrying a hint of bizarre pride.

Well then.

This old geezer was beyond saving.

The image of a grand master he had managed to establish back at the port was completely ruined by his own mouth in just a few sentences.

However, this scene was heard loud and clear by Bloodsong, who was standing behind them.

The Resurrectionist's eyes widened in disbelief.

Waves of shock crashed through his mind!

What was going on?!

A high-ranking boss of the Resurrection Society, a grand Storm Judge, actually had a special hobby of playing daddy to people everywhere?!

This was absolutely mind-blowing!

Bloodsong felt that if he made it back to the tavern alive, he would have endless gossip to make his companions' jaws drop!

“Oh?”

Elias dragged out his tone.

His gaze began to drift back and forth between Old Crowley and Malcolm.

Malcolm felt his skin crawl under this look, a shiver running down his spine.

He had absolutely no idea what kind of nonsense this old-and-young duo was talking about.

But a first mate's intuition told him that this was definitely not a normal conversation.

To stop these two from continuing to babble together, Malcolm decisively spoke up, breaking the bizarre atmosphere.

“Captain.”

“Mr. Rockland.”

Malcolm pointed toward the sea, reminding them.

“The tide has already risen. Shouldn't we prepare to depart?”

Having said that, he turned to look at Elias and Bloodsong, offering a reasonable suggestion.

“As for Mr. Rockland and Bloodsong, why don't you rest in the captain's cabin for a bit?”

Bloodsong, standing at the back, was clearly taken aback.

Rockland?

Who was Rockland?!

Bloodsong's mind raced.

Only then did he suddenly recall the scene he had witnessed upstairs earlier.

It turned out to be the guy standing right next to him.

“Wait.”

Just as Malcolm was about to lead the way, Old Crowley suddenly spoke up in objection.

His wrinkled old face scrunched up instantly.

“Why send them to my cabin?”

The old man waved his hands repeatedly.

“No!”

“Malcolm, absolutely not!”

“Don't forget Polly is still in there!”

Old Crowley glared and shouted.

“Don't let them in! The smell of blood on them will scare my Polly!”

“Who's Polly?”

Elias and Bloodsong froze at the same time.

They were completely bewildered.

Was there some important person hiding on this dilapidated ship?

“The captain's parrot,” Malcolm sighed helplessly and answered.

“But, Captain,” Malcolm pointed out a fatal logical flaw. “When you ordered me to have that female reporter stay in your cabin earlier, she was screaming and shouting in there. Didn't that already scare Polly?”

Old Crowley let out an embarrassed cough.

Taking off his worn captain's hat, he reached up to scratch his white hair.

“Hiss...”

The old man sucked in a breath.

“I completely forgot about that!”

Knowing he was in the wrong, Old Crowley waved his hand dismissively and compromised.

“Fine.”

“Malcolm, lead the way.”

“Take our two gentlemen here to the captain's cabin to rest.”

Under Old Crowley's orders, Elias and Bloodsong made their way to the captain's cabin.

As soon as they entered, they saw Ophelia lying unceremoniously on the wool carpet in the center of the cabin.

She was sprawled out with her eyes tightly shut, breathing steadily.

Clearly, Malcolm had put her into a deep sleep using a highly professional technique.

Next to her, on a wooden desk, sat a brass birdcage.

Inside the cage, a parrot with colorful plumage was hopping around, gripping the bars.

Seeing someone push open the door, the parrot tilted its head and cleared its throat with mock seriousness.

“Girl!”

“Girl!”

The parrot paced back and forth in its cage with excitement.

“Wake up!”

“How many Shillings for last night?”

Elias froze.