In a single encounter, over a dozen privateer crew mbers were cut down.
The scent of blood imdiately perated the air.
However, this achievent was based on the surprise advantage caused by the collision.
As the instability caused by the impact subsided, the advantage of surprise also ceased to exist.
The privateer crew mbers also let out a roar, fighting with all their might.
As privateers who lived by raiding other nations' rchant ships, they knew better than ordinary rchant sailors what the consequences of retreating in a naval battle were.
And precisely because they had witnessed too many tis the fate of those defeated by them.
Therefore, the crew mbers, unwilling to suffer such a fate, began to fight desperately.
These crew mbers, after all, lived by fighting.
Against sailors whose main livelihood was sailing, the situation slowly began to change.
One crew mber knocked the weapon out of a sailor's hand. Just as he was about to follow through and cleave his axe into the sailor's shoulder blade...
Whiz!
An arrow, shot from behind the sailor, precisely pierced the crew mber's eye socket.
That arrogant bravado instantly turned into a shrill wail.
Lynn, standing on the crow's nest mid-mast, holding his Kovirian longbow, didn't even spare a glance. Instead, he drew another arrow from the quiver on his back and shot it.
It pierced through another crew mber's chest, saving another sailor's life.
Under the blessing of Master-level Phoenix Archery, Lynn not only achieved unerring accuracy but also fired continuously like a machine gun.
With his rciless full-force barrage, he rapidly eliminated the privateer crew.
The only thing limiting his rate of fire was the number of arrows.
But thanks to the runic leather satchel, Lynn had long since purchased thousands of arrows, all stockpiled in the satchel.
This was precisely for use in such situations.
Under his tempest-like volley of arrows, the number of privateer crew mbers rapidly dwindled.
Sir Henry Morgan parried three rchant sailors attacking him with his sword.
A quick glance from the corner of his eye made him realize that his subordinates, he didn't know when, were reduced to only a handful.
Before he could even figure out what was going on.
An arrow, like a fiery teor, shot down from high above, streaking across the sky.
It lodged directly into the neck of a privateer crew mber standing next to him.
Blood imdiately splattered across Sir Henry Morgan's face.
The latter was startled.
He turned his head to look in the direction the arrow ca from.
He saw a young witcher standing on the crow's nest mid-mast of the opposing rchant ship.
Sir Henry Morgan instinctively raised his hand.
The next second.
The blade of his rapier collided with the incoming arrow.
Sir Henry Morgan's spine instantly ran cold, and his soul nearly fled his body.
Seeing the opponent effortlessly draw another arrow, he didn't even think, dodging behind another subordinate.
Thud!
His subordinate's expression went blank, and his body slumped like a rag doll. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novel·fıre·net
"Such terrifying archery! That guy isn't a witcher at all. Even elves rarely reach his level."
Sir Henry Morgan imdiately abandoned any thought of continued resistance.
Before a marksman who never misses, am I to resist with my head?
Instantly realizing this, he charged towards the edge of the deck without a second thought.
Although jumping into the sea for escape was tantamount to a one-in-ten chance of survival in these vast waters.
But at least jumping into the sea offered a glimr of hope.
Staying here ant certain death.
But just then, two figures simultaneously blocked his path.
Tea and Vea stood with their Zerrikanian sabres, blood continuously dripping from the blades.
"Run, milord!"
At this mont, a privateer crew mber, fearless of death, lunged from the side, desperately trying to stop one of the Zerrikanian girls.
Sir Henry Morgan was overjoyed.
He didn't mourn for his subordinate's sacrifice for a mont.
Instead, he fiercely lunged at the other Zerrikanian girl.
To escape, Sir Henry Morgan used every trick he knew, his rapier thrusting faster with each strike, montarily suppressing Tea.
Whoosh—
A terrifying shriek sounded at that mont.
Like a shooting star, it crossed dozens of ters in an instant.
Sir Henry Morgan's face changed.
He had no choice but to use his rapier to block the incoming arrow.
Clang!
The power of this charged arrow far surpassed the previous ones. The rapier's blade snapped in two with a sharp crack.
At the crucial mont, Sir Henry Morgan's eyes widened. Driven by adrenaline, his empty left hand actually firmly gripped the rapidly decelerating arrow.
"This speed... this force..."
It wasn't until the arrow, tightly held in his hand, completely lost its force that Sir Henry Morgan finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Cold sweat continuously dripped from his forehead.
If not for his sudden burst of luck and strength far exceeding his usual, he might have been a corpse by now.
Just like his subordinate...
Wait, what's going on?
Sir Henry Morgan felt a fragrant breeze, a mixture of heat, dampness, and blood, drift past him.
Then he looked in horror at Tea, who was now shockingly close to him.
The latter even provocatively winked at him.
At this mont, Sir Henry Morgan finally felt so liquid flowing across his chest.
While he was blocking the charged arrow shot by the witcher, Tea had, of course, seized the opportunity to launch a deadly strike when he was off guard.
There was no concept of chivalry in Zerrikania.
Their highest respect for an enemy was to exert their full strength and annihilate them completely.
"Hoo... hoo hoo..."
Large amounts of blood gushed from Sir Henry Morgan's throat. The surging blood clogged his windpipe, preventing him from uttering even a parting poem, let alone anything else.
The remaining privateer crew mbers, seeing that even Sir Henry Morgan, who had led them undefeated across the seas, was gone, lost all courage to resist further.
They all dropped their weapons and surrendered.
When Lynn descended from the crow's nest, the captain, who had been respectfully waiting below, without even having ti to clean the bloodstains from his body, imdiately rushed to greet him.
"Sir Lynn, I'm an uncultured man, slow with words, and truly don't know how to express my gratitude and respect for you."
Lynn gave a hearty laugh: "Then just treat and my companions to a drink when we reach the Duchy of Arcane Shores."
"That's a must. I'll buy you the best wine then."
Several sailors nearby, who were moving the wounded back to the rchant ship, heard this and couldn't help but ask: "Captain, what about us?"
"That, of course, ans everyone together!"
"Long live the Captain!"
The sailors cheered.
After expressing his thanks again, the captain rubbed his hands, showing an embarrassed expression: "Sir Lynn, please forgive , I still have to check on the wounded and the prisoners, so many things..."
Lynn was particularly understanding: "It's alright, you go take care of your business."
The captain bowed again before walking away.
Lynn and Borch were guests; after the battle ended, they didn't need to do anything more.
But he couldn't.
Attending to the wounded, settling the prisoners, searching the enemy ship...
The battle on deck was over, but the area below deck hadn't been searched yet.
The captain didn't want his spoils of war to be scuttled by any stragglers hiding below deck.
One must know that in any era, a usable ship ant money.
Although this privateer ship was a formal warship of the Nilfgaardian navy.
But as long as the ballistas were dismantled, it could still be used as an ordinary rchant ship.
These ballistas, of course, would not be thrown away but sold to black market rchants.
As an older middle-aged man, he had so connections in that regard.
The captain had a good plan.
Both of these ships were his.
Once they reached land, he could recruit more sailors.
This way, he would be a man who owned two rchant ships simultaneously.
After he walked away, Tea approached with a graceful stride, saying in broken Common: "Thank you."
"Thank for what?"
"For this."
The Zerrikanian girl mimicked the action of shooting an arrow, then, she looked him up and down: "You are strong. Stronger than most n."
"Uh... thank you."
He wondered if "thank you" had a different aning in Zerrikanian.
The Zerrikanian girl laughed heartily.
After giving Lynn a aningful, yet ambiguous, look, she swayed her slender waist and departed.
At this mont, Borch's voice ca from beside the witcher.
"I never knew witchers could use bows and arrows in addition to swords. Do you perhaps have a quarter-elf bloodline?"
....
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