Around seven in the evening, Li Site and his group were already making their way on foot toward the Count’s manor. Taking a carriage would attract too much attention; better not to leave a trail for the Count to follow.  

The principle of reciprocation required bringing a small gift. It wasn’t that the lord needed the money, but it was necessary to show the proper respect. When visiting someone’s home for dinner, it was customary to bring a bottle of wine. This was an unspoken rule.  

So Li Site spent two copper coins on a bottle of cheap fermented sugarcane honey wine—what was called rum. Nobody on the ship drank that stuff.  

Linden City covered a vast area and was not all flat land. Along the inner city, near the mountain foothills, lay the noble estates.  

The night was clear with few stars.  

Here, more than one moon hung in the sky. On cloudless nights, a breathtaking spectacle could be seen: celestial bodies in shades of crimson, silver, sky blue, and blue-purple intertwined, accented by a dazzling Milky Way.  

In Morrison’s words, this view was so stunning it could send you straight to hell.  

The path leading to the Count’s estate was paved with perfectly cut kiln bricks, tightly fitted together. Although they arrived on foot, the quality was so high that carriages could pass without a single bump.  

After walking through the forest for a while to avoid prying eyes, the three came out onto the main road near the manor.  

From a distance, the Count’s grand estate glowed with bright lights.  

The main building’s Baroque style was obvious even from afar, with intricately carved walls. Arched ribs formed bridges connecting surrounding annexes, and Roman columns added a rich, noble flair. Under the moonlight, the blue tiled roof with exquisite seam patterns was stunningly delicate.  

This estate had several entrances. Although Li Site came stealthily, he chose the main gate to avoid seeming like a thief.  

At the main gate, double Gothic iron gates stood open, and young maids in servant uniforms were waiting. While not exactly beauties, their features were neat and their demeanor graceful. Having served in a wealthy household long enough, they naturally exuded an air of composure regardless of rank.  

At this hour, it was definitely the Black Sails crew arriving.  

Six male attendants in black vests over white shirts opened the gates.  

“Please, the banquet is still being prepared. I will first take you three to the tea room to rest.”  

The maid tried to say more.  

Fen frowned, pressing his monocle, feeling slighted. What kind of big deal was this? Even if the master couldn’t come personally, they should have sent a trusted steward. Who were these servants trying to fool?  

Li Site understood Fen well. He didn’t care much about these formalities, but Fen was proud; being a pirate was a last resort. Losing status but keeping face was a struggle for him.  

“Kill-brother, say something.”  

As the host, Li Site knew it was low-class to cause trouble.  

Morrison sneered without wasting words, “Call your master out. We’re a group with high bounties on our heads, ready to die anytime. If the host doesn’t show, after all these years in hiding, we’ll assume it’s a trap. We might just start slaughtering.”  

Li Site sighed. No need to be that harsh.  

Morrison’s presence alone, with countless lives lost by his hands, radiated a terrifying aura that made the hairs on anyone’s neck stand on end.  

Even the manor’s experienced attendants were frightened stiff, their faces blank.  

“I…I’ll go immediately.”  

The maid’s steps faltered, and she even stumbled flat on the ground partway.  

Li Site rubbed his forehead, watching the poor girl terrified.  

Less than two minutes later, a young man dressed in luxurious, top-quality silk arrived. His robust and well-nourished build revealed his noble status. He was the Count’s son.  

Noble titles in the Beima Principality were hereditary. Among direct descendants of Counts and above, even those without the title were recognized as honorary nobles without needing formal investiture. They were the lowest-ranking barons and received royal stipends. Some were born to be beasts of burden, others born into Rome itself.  

The Count’s son dismounted stiffly and approached.  

Li Site was speechless. No wonder nobles needed transport even for short distances.  

“Apologies, my father is handling urgent matters. He instructed me to receive our honored guests. I have been remiss.”  

The Count’s son knew their skills. Their visit was not because of the casino incident but the matter at Blue Bay Port. Sending them to run the casino was just to test if it was a genuine operation or a fake.  

“I don’t mind those things,” Li Site waved his hand. “But my two brothers here are timid and afraid of trouble.”  

The Count’s son gave an awkward smile. Killing the entire Blue Bay Port lord’s family and distributing the money to the commoners, the local admiral profited, a three-way win—only the lord’s family died. Not only were they brave, but they were also clever, which pleased his father.  

“Please this way. I’ll take you to the tea room to rest. It won’t take more than a quarter-hour. The manor’s head chef once participated in Arlan’s culinary contest…”  

Before he finished speaking,  

“Enough, enough, no need to say more. Just get us to the tea and hurry up. We’ve been walking for so long, it’s tiring.”  

Morrison gave no respect. The guys weren’t obligated to take this job. If they got annoyed, they’d kill the whole family and leave. Nobles were all the same. This manor with its large garden and grand fountains wasn’t something you could afford selling dates on the street. Selling ten million dates wouldn’t come close. Killing these people carried no guilt—they begged us to do their dirty work.  

The Count’s son was stunned. He had never been treated like this in his life. After all, who was the real noble?  

“Don’t mind them. We drift at sea, so we may be rude. This friend of mine is actually kind-hearted, just awkward at expressing it.”  

Fen relaxed his brow, appreciating the face they were given.  

“Thank you.”  

Morrison was amused.  

The Count’s son awkwardly smiled, leading them into the tea room.  

A while later, inside the tea room.  

The noble home’s decor reflected the deep cultural heritage of the Western Continent. A commoner’s home could at best be called a person’s residence.  

The tea room alone was larger than an ordinary tavern, adorned with luxurious polished iron chandeliers made of pearlescent stone. The entire room was decorated in traditional Beima style, characterized by extensive use of cool-colored crystals emphasizing horizontal and vertical lines. The walls were clad in obsidian tiles, and the overall color scheme was black, white, and gray.  

With winter’s arrival, the fireplace was lit. The sofa’s magical beast leather was carefully chosen to match the overall style with the black fur of the lightning marten, making it soft and comfortable to sit on.  

Maids in uniform served Li Site, massaging his legs and shoulders, which he greatly enjoyed. Fen and Morrison declined.  

“Won’t drinking this kill you?”  

Morrison sipped the tea, observing how the nobles lived compared to their life on a pirate ship.  

The Count’s son accompanied the three but couldn’t find much to say. He dared not ask about who they had robbed or killed. Instead, he tactfully inquired about interesting adventures they’d encountered.  

“Interesting adventures, huh.” Morrison thought for a moment and recalled meeting an adventurer harassing a waitress in a tavern. “I once stripped a guy in a tavern, but didn’t kill him—just broke his hand. His adventuring party came looking for me, demanding medical fees. I said I’d pay, but I wouldn’t give it. They got mad, so I had to…”  

Morrison made a throat-slitting gesture.  

The Count’s son broke into a cold sweat. He shouldn’t have asked. He hoped the banquet would start soon; he didn’t want to be alone with these three killers.  

Li Site mused that Sven was probably hiding somewhere nearby, maybe even spying on him. Damn.