Chapter 341: Lined Up to Welcome

The bald giant, dragged in by Tom and David, was none other than the leader of the Laen Guild.

Though he had suffered no injuries during the morning’s capture, after being escorted back to port and subjected to Vali Knight’s interrogation, his demeanor was utterly broken, his body crisscrossed with bloody lash marks—clearly the work of the whip.

Ronin stepped forward and sat in the chair, sizing the man up from head to toe.

This bald giant, though a Bronze Knight and among the top few strongest on Flowing Island, possessed a courage that left much to be desired.

Now, faced with Ronin, a noble of such stature, Laen’s knees buckled instantly, and he collapsed onto the ground.

“Mercy, my lord! Mercy, my lord!”

“It was Marcelo who incited me! He said we were too numerous to fear Vali Knight and his men. I—I foolishly believed his lies, and kept demanding more supplies from Vali Knight!”

Imagine the visceral impact of a bald, burly man weeping uncontrollably before you, snot and tears streaming down his face.

“I know Marcelo’s crimes. He may well face the gallows.”

Ronin spoke calmly. “As for you…”

“Mercy, my lord! Mercy, my lord!”

Laen panicked.

“I only asked for a little more grain and tools from Vali Knight. I never intended to kill him, nor did I ever smuggle with outsiders. And—and nearly all the timber from the Laen Guild has been handed over! I never deliberately withheld it!”

“My lord, please don’t send me to the gallows! Please, save me!”

Life on Flowing Island was harsh for most, but as its leader, Laen had lived in ease—clothes handed to him, meals served on a platter.

Such men clung fiercely to life. He did not wish to die.

Ronin smiled faintly.

Laen was a troublemaker, yes—but merely greedy. He had not conspired with outsiders or smuggled timber.

Guilty, yes—but not deserving of death.

In Ronin’s eyes, men like this, terrified of death, were easier to control.

All he needed to do was demonstrate absolute power—show he held the power of life and death—and Laen would remain obedient, silent, and subservient for a long, long time.

“I can indeed save you,” Ronin said.

As commander of this operation, he held some authority over who to capture, who to release.

Bruno had merely tasked him with resolving the troubles on Flowing Island, without prescribing specific methods.

Calming these troublemakers, coaxing them back into service for the kingdom—this too was a way to resolve the chaos.

At those words, Laen trembled violently.

He looked up at the young noble before him, his face alight with desperate hope, as if clutching the last straw in a drowning sea.

“My lord, if you save me, my wretched life is yours! You tell me to climb the mountain, I won’t set foot on the sea. You tell me to go east, I won’t dare turn west!”

Ronin nodded.

His manpower was critically scarce—he had no one to spare to govern Flowing Island.

Laen, a native of this land, understood its ways intimately. He was perfect for the task.

As for his character, his morals…

The priority now was managing and profiting from this place, generating value for the Ubei Domain.

So long as Laen delivered results and didn’t overstep too far, that was enough.

Ronin gave him a few more instructions, then ordered Tom and David to take him away again.

After all, he was not yet master of Flowing Island. To avoid criticism, he would leave its governance to Vali Knight for now.

Thus, Laen remained confined in the harbor’s dungeon.

With that, the journey to Flowing Island was complete.

For Ronin, beyond a few battle accolades, the most pleasing gain was the potato—a crop he had already stowed in his space ring, ready to plant in Ubei.

In just one year, this high-yield grain would spread across his lands.

Over the next two days, Ronin coordinated with Vali Knight to secure the territories of the Laen Guild and the White Flower Guild, while also compiling a concise account of the operation and sending it via Flowing Island’s messenger birds to the Golden Feather Palace.

Two days later, as order slowly returned to Flowing Island, Ronin set sail with Marcelo, Clifford, and the other captives, heading back toward Oxhorn Bay.

Golden Feather Palace.

Ronin’s letter reached King Bruno’s hands swiftly.

To him, the destruction of the White Whale Pirates and the pacification of Flowing Island held no difficulty—Ronin succeeding was no surprise.

But he had not anticipated that the islanders had made contact with the outside world—and had dragged the “Blood Sails,” another pirate faction of Screaming Sea, into the affair.

Major pirate gangs always had their own networks.

Bruno knew the Blood Sails bore the shadow of the Screaming Count’s family.

“A true merchant,” he muttered. “If there’s even a whiff of profit, they’ll swarm like flies.”

Yet he knew—no mere shipload of timber would satisfy them.

To seize Flowing Island, exploit its timber, expand profits—that was the true goal.

Bruno fell into quiet thought.

“It seems even more necessary to introduce new power into Screaming Sea.”

He turned to his intelligence officer, Mel.

“Ronin’s ship should return to Oxhorn Bay in a few days. Before then, spread word of his achievements.”

The king paused, then elaborated:

“Say he destroyed the White Whale Pirates’ stronghold, cleared the seas, ensuring safer passage for merchant vessels. Say he quelled the uprising on Flowing Island for the Auduin Royal House—and captured Clifford, the Blood Sails’ third-in-command, a Gold Knight.”

Mel bowed slightly.

“As you command, Your Majesty.”

He understood the king’s intent: to build Ronin’s reputation, paving the way for formal ennoblement.

Indeed—Ronin, a member of the Wushan family, a Champion Knight, now with these deeds—when embellished just slightly—could become a name that echoed across the realm.

Mel already had many ideas forming in his mind.

Five days later, a warship bearing the Auduin royal banner sailed into Oxhorn Bay.

Before even stepping ashore, Ronin saw the harbor thronged with crowds—waving flags of both the royal house and the Wushan clan, chanting his name.

“What is this?”

Even the crew aboard were stunned. Even Ronin himself was taken aback.

He knew this spectacle was likely Bruno’s doing—but surely this was excessive?

Helpless, he straightened his back, smiled warmly, and as he descended the gangplank, offered genuine, friendly greetings to his adoring, fabricated fans.

(End of chapter)