Chapter 151: Chapter 150: Weigh Anchor, Set Sail
On the deck, Gro toppled to the ground from a sudden punch and shakily stood up with a hint of disbelief and shock on his face. Staring at Morton in front of him, he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and muttered, “You… you dared to hit me?”
“It was… it was all because you forced me,” Morton said with a somewhat weak voice.
The intimidation from status and psychological fear aren’t so easily erased, even though Morton allowed his anger to truly punch Gro, he was still somewhat panicked as he saw Gro’s gaze.
But Gro didn’t care about that at this moment; he was uncontrollably angry. With a roar coming from deep in his throat, he stamped his foot ferociously and lunged at Morton.
Regardless of whether he was a prince or not, he had his dignity. Morton had hit him, and he felt the need to hit back.
With a “bang,” Morton was tackled to the deck, Gro straddled him, clenched his fist, and ferociously punched Morton’s face, hitting hard.
Punch after punch landed on flesh, and after half a minute, Morton’s face was bruised and swollen.
The intense pain provoked Morton, reigniting his fury and causing his body to struggle in an attempt to overthrow Gro and retaliate.
Gro pounded on Morton, pummeling while he gasped for air.
Morton writhed like a maggot, suddenly exerting a burst of strength, breaking free from Gro’s hold, and successfully stood up.
Morton’s face was utterly disfigured, and he clenching his teeth with the intention to avenge himself.
Suddenly, at that moment, there was a light “bang.” Pandora, who had been napping on a suitcase, woke up, jumped off the suitcase, and approached with a frown to stand between Gro and Morton.
Gro, who had been fiercely ready to continue teaching Morton a lesson, softened his expression instantly upon seeing Pandora.
“Uh, that…” Gro abruptly turned and nonchalantly strolled to the edge of the deck, appearing unconcerned as he gazed out at the shoreline.
Confused, Morton shouted, “Don’t run,” and chased after Gro. Midway, he saw Pandora blocking his path and casually tried to push her aside.
Just as he swung his hand out…
There was a crisp “snap” sound that echoed across the deck.
In an instant, Morton’s expression changed: from intense rage to extreme agony, his facial muscles twisted grotesquely, his eyes bulged, and he dropped to the ground with a “bang.”
His arm was broken, seemingly for the first time in his life, as it drooped helplessly in front of him. This unprecedented experience nearly made Morton lose his mind as he scrambled desperately across the deck as if trying to discard the arm that seemed not his own, all the while letting out a sharp cry for help, “Save me! Save me!”
Pandora looked at Morton with a furrowed brow, as if considering how to make him be quiet.
Richard raised an eyebrow and looked away, thinking to himself: This could attract the people from White Stone Tower.
No sooner had Richard thought this than the people from the White Stone Tower appeared.
A young man in a Black Robe hurried up from below deck and approached Morton. He glanced at Morton and sternly said, “I am Mr. Siv’s newly accepted Direct Disciple, in charge of some of the order on the ship. Don’t you know that fighting is not allowed on the ship, you… what’s going on?”
“It’s… it’s not me who started the fight, sir. It was them, a group of people who attacked me. Yes, for no reason at all, they claimed I stole their Examination Exemption Certificates, but I didn’t,” Morton whined.
“Hmm?” The young man raised an eyebrow, “Them?”
“Yes, them.” Morton quickly pointed to Gro and then to Pandora, and finally, remembering that Richard had always been with Gro, his finger lingered on Richard for half a second.
Following Morton’s direction, the young man’s gaze shifted to Richard and his companions, then he paused slightly.
Their eyes met mid-air, and the atmosphere suddenly shifted.
“Yes, it was us,” Richard said, his eyes gleaming as he had figured something out, “So it turns out the one with the remaining High-level Talent is you…”
“Well, actually… about the Talent, I didn’t know myself. It was Mr. Siv who told me, and he accepted me as his Direct Disciple. Actually, I should thank you all for that day… otherwise, I wouldn’t have had a chance to intersect with Mr. Siv…” the young man said.
Morton, who had been moaning in pain on the deck, froze and stared at the young man, feeling a chill.
This… This seems a bit off, it’s not quite the scene he had imagined…
“This… Sir…” Next to the young man, Morton spoke weakly, “Sir, they… they just attacked me… you…”
The young man turned around, looked at Morton, his eyes flickered, then his face fell, and he asked, “What’s your name?”
“I am called Morton.” Morton answered honestly, and then, as an afterthought, he added, “I am from the Pompo family.”
“Hmm? The Pompo family?” The expression of the young man suddenly darkened. “Do you happen to have a cousin, or a relative like that, named Hilder Pamp?”
“Uh, yes, we’re very close, do you know him?” Morton suddenly felt a glimmer of hope.
“Of course, I know him. I will never forget him,” the young man said, his face now pitch black.
“Uh…” Morton felt like he may have misunderstood something and had made an unfortunate explanation. That…
“…” The young man looked at Morton, his mouth opened and closed.
Morton did not hear clearly, “Huh? What did you say?”
“I said, no fighting!” The young man almost roared, then kicked fiercely, landing a blow right between Morton’s legs.
The young man kicked once, twice, thrice… kicking until Morton’s body curled up, his whole body convulsed, and he foamed at the mouth…
After a while, the young man stopped kicking, panting he pointed at the dazed Morton and yelled at everyone on the deck, “I warn you all, no fighting on the ship, or you’ll end up like him!”
Everyone was silent as a cicada in winter, and deeply puzzled: If fighting was not allowed, why punish only Morton’s side? From a certain point of view, wasn’t Morton the victim?
They couldn’t understand, but they dared not object. The black robe worn by the young man was a symbol of status, a sign of power.
The young man took a deep breath, then his expression softened a bit as he looked towards Richard and his group, saying, “Anyway, thanks. By the way, let me introduce myself. My name is Martin Luther King. If you have any issues on the ship, you can come to me.”
“Martin Luther King?” Richard’s eyes flashed.
“Is there a problem?”
“No problem.” Richard shook his head, “I just think your name is quite nice, somewhat similar to another High-level Talent, John Calvin Qiao.”
“Is it?” Luther looked puzzled; he didn’t think there was any similarity.
Just then, a voice came from below the cabin, calling out, “Luther, come here and deal with this!”
Luther’s face changed slightly.
“Demi is calling me, I must go. We’ll talk more if there’s a chance. Thanks again, goodbye.” Luther hurried towards the cabin below the deck, and as he left he didn’t forget to shout to the people on the deck, “No fighting! No matter what causes it, all involved in fighting will be severely punished!”
“Creak and grind,” the wooden ship successfully lifted anchor, adjusted direction, and left the harbor, sailing towards the mouth of the Jade River.
On the shore, a man in a black robe appeared, watching the wooden ship, muttering to himself, “Interesting. But that’s all there is to it. Just wait, all of you… you’re going to hell…”
On the deck of the wooden ship, Richard turned his head to look somewhere, watched for a while, then withdrew his gaze.
“A trick of the mind?” Richard murmured to himself.
The wooden ship sailed on at full speed…