After Byron boarded the ship, he had never personally seen the notorious pirate captain, Bloody Eye Salman. But from their blood-red eyes, he had already inferred that the captain’s shark "pets" meant he was a Transcendent. The "Sailing Logbook" could not easily scrutinize Salman’s history as it did with ordinary things. That was why he thought of using Little Hans to gather intelligence. Instead, he unexpectedly uncovered a new Hidden.
The first Transcendent Hidden: The shadow of the Hightins Throne War—the War of the Red and White Roses—had granted Byron the excessive feedback "Historical Reviser". But the level of secrecy involved was too high for him to access before completing the induction ritual.
"The Hidden: Captain Bloody Eye Salman’s Unspeakable Affliction" is just right, with a Historical Influence of only 4%. As long as I unravel his secret, my Spirituality will no longer need further accumulation and refinement, and I can directly proceed with the Ladder of Glory induction ritual.
Thus, upon hearing Little Hans’s advice, Byron wasn’t frightened but instead felt a little eager. Of course, he didn’t forget to thank him sincerely.
"The fresh beer on the Pelican is delicious, and so are the sausages and white bread! Finally, no more eating those maggot-infested ship’s biscuits!"
When Byron followed Little Hans onto the open deck, he saw a group of pirates, fresh from a victorious raid, reveling boisterously. Apart from the helmsman, the sailors on watch for the sails and rigging, and other essential crew for sailing, most were clutching bottles and drinking with gusto. The ship’s stores of biscuits and salted meat had been tossed aside, replaced by fresh food plundered from the Pelican.
As a former Royal Navy midshipman and a graduate of the Royal Naval Academy, Byron was already well accustomed to such scenes. The living conditions of pirates, merchant sailors, or even Navy sailors were far from the idyllic portrayals in legendary tales. A sailor’s plight was little different from that of a prisoner, with the added risk of drowning—a fate not shared by those incarcerated on land. The vilest prison was a hundred times better than the hold of a sailing ship.
The ship exuded the stench of Hell: foul odors, Resentful Energy, fear, fever, dysentery, headaches, oppressive heat, consumption, scurvy, cancer, and mouth ulcers. Limited medical knowledge turned many minor ailments into fatal conditions. Fresh water, stored in barrels in the hold, would turn foul and fetid before long. On a ship short of fuel, drinking boiled water was a luxury, usually reserved for the wounded. The others had to make do with brackish water mixed with rum or, in some cases, resort to low-alcohol spirits in place of drinking water.
The food was even more wretched; over-salted meat and damp, rotting biscuits were their staple. At mealtimes, they had to endure extreme physical revulsion to force the rotting, maggot-riddled food down their throats. Byron had heard more than one sailor jest through his misery, "Black-headed maggots are cool going down, not bitter like weevils. Taste pretty good, they do!"
This was especially true for pirates who spent extended periods at sea; their opportunities to resupply at regular ports were scarce, making their logistical situation even more dire. Naturally, unless one could no longer survive on land or was fleeing legal retribution, few would willingly choose such a path. Heroes were scarce on the high seas; scoundrels, however, were plentiful. It was also common for armed merchant ships to turn into part-time pirates.
The two men struggled to squeeze through a throng of reeking pirates, eventually reaching the quarterdeck, where the view was most open. A massive wooden table stood there, piled high with provisions plundered from the Pelican: fruits, peas, beef, legs of mutton, wine, and more. An orb-like figure, surrounded by numerous pirate officers, sat at the center, ravenously wolfing down food.
Without needing a pointed glance from Little Hans, Byron knew this was the supreme authority on the ship: Bloody Eye Salman. The moment he laid eyes on him, Byron understood why Little Hans had warned him to maintain his composure.
This was a fat man. A man only about 150 centimeters tall yet weighing at least 150 kilograms—a true behemoth! The broad wooden chair groaned under his weight, and the silk of his aristocratic attire was stretched taut over mounds of white flesh. On his round face, his eyes were squeezed into mere slits by rolls of fat, making the moniker "Bloody Eye" seem utterly incongruous. And despite his immense bulk, he continued to gorge himself with fervor. He swallowed a beef rib in a single gulp and devoured an entire leg of mutton, bones and all, in two bites, pausing only to guzzle down a whole bottle of rum. Beside him, a nimble young pirate constantly ferried peeled crabmeat to his lips. Aside from the meat and wine, the fruits and peas on the table remained untouched.
Byron had an inexplicable premonition: if anyone dared to interrupt the captain’s meal, something truly terrible would happen.
After Byron had stood quietly before Bloody Eye for some time, the rotund captain finally spared him a glance, looking him up and down. A sudden, dangerous smile revealed teeth that were a fraction too sharp.
"The new chef? Once you board this pirate ship, the Man-Eater Shark, you become one of us. As long as you obey the Pirate’s Ten Commandments, your safety is assured. Under normal circumstances, you won’t need to participate in battle; your primary duty is to cook for me. If you can also cook for the others, the brothers on board will surely be deeply grateful. Of course! I am a gourmet and somewhat particular about my food. The most important element of a dish is its novelty. I hope you won’t disappoint me."
He spoke with a surprising eloquence, not nearly as terrifying as Little Hans had described. It was hard to associate him with a brutal pirate captain. And remarkably, his clear enunciation didn’t affect his eating in the slightest. Such a skill was truly admirable.
Byron wasn’t concerned about the "novelty" Little Hans had repeatedly warned him about. With his Transcendence awakened, all the memories from his past and current lives were vivid and clear, including countless recipes!
If one were to lay out all the recipes in my mind, the list would surely be longer than Bloody Eye Salman’s lifespan! This so-called "novelty" posed no challenge to me whatsoever.
Like a true nobleman’s steward, Byron swept his hand across his chest in a bow to Salman, his demeanor confident yet respectful.
"It is an honor to serve you, Captain."
His impeccable etiquette visibly pleased Salman, whose eating motions even became a shade more graceful. However, as Salman subconsciously straightened his posture, the ruffled silk sleeves of his shirt slid back, revealing a pair of deformed hands resembling chicken claws. The joints, in particular, were covered in grotesque lumps and bumps, a sight that would make one’s scalp tingle.
Perhaps others, limited by their knowledge, wouldn’t recognize them. But Byron, who had become quite knowledgeable about medicine due to prolonged illness in his past life, recognized them at a glance: a dense concentration of... Gout Stones! Even Byron, for all his experience, had never seen such a severe case.
With a condition this advanced, he must be close to urinating blood, right? And not only is he morbidly obese, but he also gorges on meat and alcohol, shuns fruits and vegetables, and drinks no plain water. Isn’t this just courting death in the most peculiar way?
The Decryption Rate for "The Hidden: Captain Bloody Eye Salman’s Unspeakable Affliction" jumped from 8% straight to 20%.
The pirate captain, of course, had no idea what his new recruit was pondering. His eating pace didn’t slow, yet it seemed the more he ate, the hungrier he became. He was never satisfied, constantly stuffing his mouth with food, and now urged impatiently, "If the quality of the food isn’t up to par, then quantity will have to suffice. I eat five meals a day. The next is in three hours. You will prepare a specialty I’ve never tasted before, won’t you?!"
As he stared intently at Byron, two cold, knife-like beams of crimson light suddenly flared in his eyes, identical to those of a Man-Eater Shark. A chill ran down Byron’s spine.
And at that very moment—
The young pirate feeding him staggered back, clutching his bloodied left hand and letting out a piercing scream. Salman, growing hungrier with every bite and eating too hastily, had bitten off two of the young man’s fingers. The other pirates seemed accustomed to this. Though fearful, they kept their heads bowed, none daring to react.
Byron, standing too close, was splattered on the face with a drop of blood but didn’t dare wipe it off. His earlier concern for his "fellow sufferer" instantly vanished, and he blurted out, "For your condition, sir, you absolutely must have lamb and seafood, paired with ice-cold beer!"
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