Chapter 72: The Jar Spirit

Three pirate ships were sailing across the sea, heading towards Fishhead Town. The lead vessel loomed high as a building, narrow at the base and wide above, with raised prows and stern, bulwarked sides, and four sails billowing overhead—a warship by design.

Trailing behind were two more ships, both blunt at prow and stern, with broad decks, shallow drafts, low freeboards, and bristling with many masts and sails. These were clearly merchant ships, seized and converted for piracy.

Altogether, the three ships bore some three to four hundred pirates—a force not to be underestimated. Yet, in a world where supernatural powers reigned and the imperial court’s strength was formidable, the pirates’ days were fraught and precarious. Without the connivance of powerful figures behind the scenes, the vast expanse of the Eastern Sea would offer no refuge to such outlaws. Thus, pirates were not numerous on the Eastern Sea. This assault on Ping’an County had already gathered the majority of its marauders.

Within the cabin of the leading ship, the room was a spacious square—by the standards of a ship, nearly five meters on each side—a considerable luxury. The decor was extravagant: the floor was covered with a carpet of precious brocade from the western land of Fire Province; the bedframe was fashioned from trembling purplewood, a specialty of Cloud Province; the table was made of red pearwood from the deep forests of Mist Province, and the walls were inlaid with gleaming shell pearls from the far-off Shell Isle.

The rest was a haphazard collection: coral from the Eastern Sea, white tiger pelts from Pottery Province, cold smoke stones from the northern reaches of Ghost Province, and more. Owing to the owner’s atrocious taste, these treasures—matched or mismatched—were piled together in a gaudy display, exuding the air of a parvenu.

At this moment, there were three people in the lavish cabin.

The first was broad-waisted and thick-armed, a long scar slashing across his face—the room’s owner and the band’s chieftain, Lu Qi.

“Boss, with our strength, we could easily claim a share of the county’s spoils. Why did you volunteer to come to this godforsaken backwater instead?”

The speaker was a one-eyed man, his blind eye covered in black cloth, lending him a menacing appearance. He was the band’s second-in-command, the ship’s first mate.

The third was the ship’s third-in-command, who chimed in, “That’s right, boss. It’s not that we’re questioning you, but we all make our living together on the sea—shouldn’t you level with us? When you made your decision, none of us objected, but now we’d like to understand.”

Lu Qi’s gaze swept coldly across their faces. “Are you done talking? You think I’m unfit to lead, is that it?”

The one-eyed man grunted, but held his tongue.

The third-in-command forced a smile. “Of course not, boss. We’re just trying to understand. We know there’s no garrison in the county, no reinforcements coming—it’d be easy to take. Now you’ve suddenly changed course for this backwater, a place usually left for small-timers to scavenge. We have hundreds of brothers all eager for loot, and all we get is a tiny town. What is there to plunder besides a few bony peasants? They barely have any treasure—how much can we haul off with just three ships?”

Lu Qi’s tone softened. “I have my reasons, and you needn’t ask further. The county may have its wealthy, but so do the many who covet their riches. With more rivals, there’s less for each. And with Xu Longchuan and his three thousand men, what spoils would be left for us? Here, we have the power to take an entire town for ourselves—women and wealth alike—a fine prize.”

Xu Longchuan, the man in question, was the ragged elder known as the King of Eastern Sea Pirates—the mightiest power among them, hence his regal title.

After a pause, Lu Qi continued, “In a few hours, we’ll reach Fishhead Town. Prepare yourselves. Our quota for slaughter is four thousand two hundred. The town has six or seven thousand souls—we must kill more than half. Don’t let them escape into the mountains. If we don’t meet the number, and Sea Dragon King comes to settle accounts, it’ll be our heads.”

At the mention of the “Sea Dragon King,” the other two men shuddered inwardly. If pirates were the nightmare of merchant ships, then that painted ship was the nightmare of all pirates. When pirates encountered it, ill luck could see their vessels overturned by monstrous storms, casting them into the raging sea, to face death more often than not.

What’s more, rumor had it the painted ship’s owner fancied himself a benefactor, claiming to save all who fell into the water, whether fisherman, merchant, or pirate—regardless of virtue. Yet all who were rescued by that ship were never seen again. No one knew their fate. Some whispered they became guests aboard the painted ship—guests who could never return.

…

Once his two lieutenants took their leave, Lu Qi sneered. “Restless fools.”

He was a newly risen force on the Eastern Sea, having swallowed up several minor bands. From one ship and a few dozen men, he had swelled his ranks to nearly four hundred across three ships. The second-in-command was his longtime companion; the third had joined from a rival gang. Now, it seemed the two were growing close.

“Hmph. Do they think currying favor with the crew will threaten me? In the face of true power, what use are petty schemes? My aim is nothing less than to oust Xu Longchuan and become the new Pirate King.”

A cold smile played on Lu Qi’s lips. From behind his bed, he drew out a clay jar, placing it gently on the table.

The jar was dark brown, etched with strange patterns—concentric circles that, if stared at too long, induced dizziness.

“Precious, precious thing. Soon we’ll reach Fishhead Town, and there’ll be blood aplenty for you. Soon, you’ll grow even stronger.”

Lu Qi’s heart burned with anticipation. Within the jar lurked a ghost—the secret behind his sudden rise and his ambition to become Pirate King. When possessed by this ghost, he became invulnerable to blade or bullet, his strength monstrous, his wounds healing almost instantly. The ghost grew ever stronger, provided it was fed fresh blood—the best being human flesh.

Abandoning the county for this remote town was, above all, for the sake of his jarred ghost. Feeding it needed secrecy; he could not risk exposing his trump card.

Thinking of the coming feast of blood and the ghost’s impending strength, Lu Qi trembled with excitement.

Just then, the clay jar began to shudder on the table, thumping against the wood.

Lu Qi, well-practiced, knew what this meant at once.

“Patience, my precious. I’ll see to it at once.”

He chuckled, left the room, and soon returned, dragging in a woman.

This ghost, besides its hunger for blood, had another strange craving: it delighted in watching lovers in the throes of passion.

The woman he brought was still comely, though her face was wan. She had once been the daughter of a wealthy household—captured at sea, passed from hand to hand, and finally landed in Lu Qi’s possession.

“Boss, in broad daylight—aren’t you being a bit bold?” she asked, attempting a flirtatious smile.

Lu Qi paid her feeble resistance no mind. He seized her, threw her onto the bed, and soon the sounds of their union filled the lavish cabin.

On the table, the clay jar trembled ever more violently.