At the northern edge of the "Serpent of the World · Celestial Current" that encircles the entire world.

On an unnamed island not yet charted on the official maps of the Lighthouse Union.

The campfire crackled.

An unidentified fish longer than a human, skewered on a wooden pole, happily turned over the flames, sizzling with oil.

With slightly charred skin and pristine white flesh, its rich layer of fat released golden droplets that dripped into the fire, sparking embers and intensifying the tempting aroma.

Dusted with snow-white salt and spices secretly concocted by a Second Order Gourmet, everyone sitting around the campfire drooled with desire.

"It's done, dig in!"

A group of fierce pirates had been living on this small island for over a dozen days, with little concern for appearances.

But thanks to adequate supplies of freshwater, they remained relatively clean.

At the call to eat, they instantly grabbed the steaming fish in front of them and gobbled it down.

Though this meal was simple, it was far better than the sea biscuits they ate on long voyages.

In this substantial camp, similar fires abounded, and together with the patrolling pirates, there were nearly two hundred people.

"Tsk tsk, you guys really can't appreciate fine fare. The true delicacy isn't some grilled sea fish."

The chef Gourmet, [Blood-Red Whiskey] Alfred, sat boldly on a boulder, not competing with his crewmates for fish.

First, he leisurely poured himself a large gulp of rum.

Then he fished out two unremarkable-looking lumps of baked clay from the fire with a stick, nimbly knocking off the crust to reveal two fragrant and plump chickens hidden inside.

These were Alfred's own rendition of a secret recipe given to him by his captain, Byron—a dish known as "Beggar's Chicken!"

Beggar's Chicken? That truly is a peculiar name. And till now, I still haven't deciphered the mysteries behind many recipes in that cookbook. For instance, why is there no wife in Wife Cakes? Why is there no fish in Fish Fragrant Shredded Pork? And no lion in Lion's Head meatballs? The captain may be a genius chef, but his talent for naming is utterly inscrutable. Could this be the legendary eccentricity of a great master?

This man, who claimed his veins flowed with whiskey, swayed his head, alternately swigging rum and devouring chicken, savoring every bite.

Furthermore, as a Second Order Gourmet, his appetite was impressively vast.

In mere moments, he'd stuffed a chicken far larger than the common kind into his stomach and then eyed the second one regretfully, smacking his lips.

Different breeds of chicken, prepared in the same way, yield completely distinct flavors. Though the local chickens here are three to four times the size of Old Continent wild chickens, their meat is terribly tough and not as tasty. However, I did discover a brand-new ingredient here, so it's not as if I've returned empty-handed. I shall add this chicken to the Silver Law culinary lexicon, and it should just qualify as a third-tier delicacy, at the lowest grade. As for the name, considering this is likely a species unique to the Celestial Orbital Belt's New Continent with its black body, red head, and a comb flaming like fire, why not call it... the turkey! I am grateful to the creator for His generous gifts to this world and to the captain for making it edible, if not particularly tasty.

With those words, his Spirituality grew slightly stronger.

Clearly, that thing, like his own experience, was indeed no delicacy; even the collective subconscious of humanity agreed.

Alfred tore off a turkey leg and wolfed it down, shaking his head internally:

It's a shame. Though I've gotten a set of exotic and delectable recipes from the captain, the turkey is novel enough, but its taste and the difficulty of its capture are not worthy of being on my life menu for advancement to the Third Order. I hope that in future explorations, I will find a more suitable target that will allow me to take a critical step and become a Transcendent of the Middle Sequence.

The Promotion Ceremony for a Gourmet chiefly involves perfecting one's life menu.

It consists of eight courses in a dining etiquette: an appetizer, soup, side dish (fish), side dish (poultry), main course, vegetable salad, dessert, and beverage.

The more sophisticated and unique the cooking methods used on the life menu, the rarer and more flavorous the ingredients, and the harder they are to capture, the stronger the enhancement one receives after promotion.

[Blood-Red Whiskey] Alfred had been at the Second Order for many years before Byron had even arrived at the Bantaan Archipelago.

In the time since, having consumed countless one-of-a-kind delicacies as Byron's chef, Alfred's Spirituality grew rapidly.

Among all crew members of the Privateer Fleet, he was destined to be the first to advance to the Third Order.

Satisfied with both drink and food, Alfred casually picked his teeth with a fish bone.

He turned to two native [Eagle Spirit Warriors] who had just flown back from patrolling the island and asked, "How's the scouting going? Two weeks is the longest incubation period for the disease. It's been over a dozen days already. How many of the head-hunting tribe's initiates are left on the island?"

Clearly, this advance unit, setting out ahead of the others, could not possibly forget the task Byron had assigned them.

Their leisurely indulgence in food and drink and study of gastronomy was simply because something else was doing their killing for them, or rather, slaughtering!

"Reporting, Captain!" the scout said. "Indeed, almost everyone is already dead.

"The few who still retain fighting capacity are only a few dozen. The initiation ritual has been terminated, and they've all gathered near the headhunter temple in the sacred grounds.

"But these headhunters are truly revolting!

"Not only do they take heads, but they also practice cannibalism.

"Captain, you wouldn't believe it—the island still has plenty of food, yet those living headhunters not only behead the dead...

"They even consume the bodies of their companions, bodies covered in pustules!

"From their conversations, it seems they believe they can draw healing power for the smallpox plague from the corpses of their own kind.

"Of course, this has no effect. Instead, it ensures that no one escapes the fate of infection."

When the native scout said this, his face turned somewhat pale green, clearly disgusted by the scenes he had witnessed during the reconnaissance.

"Cannibalism?"

Upon hearing this, the pirate officers seated around the campfire with Alfred looked up at him collectively, a faint green light flashing in the depths of their eyes.

Alfred, however, maintained his usual expression, signaling to those around him with a glance to keep it together.

After all, the Bloodthirsty Cult was most notorious for... Ghouls, during the reign of their Bloody Mary Faction!

Their main objection to the headhunter tribe was not the cannibalism itself, but that these counterparts of theirs wouldn't even refine the flesh with culinary techniques, such as using the Holy Grail of Blood.

It was simply too primitive and barbaric!

After calming his down-and-out mates, [Blood-Red Whiskey] then turned to the oblivious scout and nodded, "I must say, though underhanded, poisoning does indeed deliver effective results. If we didn't have this powerful weapon, taking down the headhunters' sacred land would not be easy. We would have had to pay a severe price. Once nearby headhunter tribes from seven or eight other islands catch wind, it will be us being surrounded and slaughtered instead. The Captain has already set out. We needn't wait any longer. Let's get to work."

Who says the enemy of a villain must be a benevolent hero?

The memory of that second mate aboard the Teapot contained precise intelligence on the whereabouts of the Crystal Skull [Polaris] #12.

Here lies an archipelago composed of seven adjacent islands, each with varying numbers of headhunter tribes.

The island that holds the Crystal Skull is the smallest in area, yet all headhunter tribes regard it as a sacred site for trials.

During the crossover period of the dry and rainy seasons, which coincides with the annual coming-of-age ritual for all headhunter tribes.

Every headhunter youth who reaches eighteen during the year comes to this island to partake in a month-long bloody initiation ritual, hunting each other's heads.

They must hunt at least one head to be considered an adult, allowed to enter the headhunter temple for worship and to leave the sacred island alive, becoming a member of the headhunter tribe.

If one can kill everyone in the trial in one go, they are deemed to possess the qualities of a king and are blessed by the ancestral spirits that slumber in the sacred site.

It seems more like a deliberate culling of the population to deal with limited resources.

Thus, under Alfred's command, these lawless fellows made a trip back to Yucatan Island before setting off and found the [Grotesque · Beak Doctor], already weak to the point of near-death.

Easily, they obtained fresh smallpox virus from it and then rushed to the island where the initiation ritual had already begun.

Secretly, they unleashed the plague.

Now, it seemed effective, nearly wiping out an entire generation of nearby headhunter tribes without costing them a single soldier.

And on such a closed-off isolated island, the virus would not spread easily, preventing any accidents.

Congratulations are in order.

Alfred wiped the grease from his mouth and drew his curved sword with a forceful swing, his voice booming like thunder, "Harvest time has come. Line up, load your guns, and let's go eradicate the island's last resisters."

"Aye, Captain!"

The well-fed elite pirates rose briskly, quickly forming ranks by the seaside.

Then nearly two hundred men, carrying flintlock muskets with high morale, began to advance towards the island littered with corpses.

The [Musketeer] was actually a fifth-rate Navy cruiser reported for decommissioning to the Navy Department.

Having served for just five years, it was still quite young for a cruiser.

But it was half-sold and half-given away by the greedy members of the Newman Family to their good son-in-law, Pirate General "Bill."

"Bill," who was already stretched thin and destined to vanish sooner or later, naturally did not have too much time to wander the seas.

Therefore, most of the time, the regular drills and sea patrols of this ship were the responsibility of [Blood-Red Whiskey] Alfred.

It was also, at the moment, the most powerful pirate ship in the Privateer Fleet, second only to the Golden Deer, without a single competitor.

Most importantly, these men were not only loyal and reliable but also possessed an extremely low moral bottom line. This potent combination meant their mission success rate was always one hundred percent!