What? Hunting the "Blood Above the Admiral"? Daniz almost lifted his right hand, fumbling at his ears. His first reaction was that he must have heard wrong. But Gelmann Sparo's quiet, manic smile, and the subtle furrow in his captain's brow, both confirmed that what he'd just heard was true! This... this madman, Gelmann Sparo, truly dares to imagine it! After all, he's one of the Seven Great Pirate Admirals—far beyond someone like Steel Mavith! Daniz's eyes narrowed, his mind nearly shouting in response. Beyond the sheer strength of Senyol himself, the very reputation of his lieutenants and renowned pirates alone was enough to inspire awe—each of them, from the first mate to the third mate and every ship's captain, could lead an entire major pirate fleet independently! And there's still a strong contingent of such figures within the "Blood Pirates"! Back in the beginning, Zinglars, the "Storm Admiral," passed away quietly in Béklând like a wild dog—mainly because he never stayed within his own pirate fleet. In contrast, Senyórl, the "Blood Admiral," rarely left his flagship and seldom stepped away from the company of his officers. Even in terms of his personal strength, he was truly formidable: enigmatic, unpredictable, one of the few exceptional figures on the seas, second only to the Four Kings. Even captains dared to claim they were certainly better than him. Senyórl's boldness—his courage—was simply beyond my imagination. No, he didn't fear at all! The death and succession of a pirate general would surely be a major event across the Five Seas. Daniz went through a series of thoughts, yet ultimately settled into a serene calm. This was because he recalled that Germán Sparrow himself was a true general of the Seven, and possibly behind him lay a hidden, formidable organization. "Ice Mountain Admiral" Edwéna remained silent for a few seconds. "Do you know of the 'Rose School'?" "I not only know—they've been killed by me, their magical artifacts seized by me… etc. Wait, why am I describing myself as a villain? Kline suppressed a smile, speaking calmly: 'I've hunted their members.' Edwenna fell silent once more, and Daniz again found himself thinking, 'What are they talking about? What is the Rose School? Where am I? Whose dream is this?' After a brief pause, the 'Ice Marshal' Edwenna said: 'Following the great battle with the pirates of the 'Dusk Marshal,' the fleet of Senior has vanished from sight. No one knows where they are now—patience must be exercised.' So that's it? Kline smiled again: 'I certainly don't lack that.' 'How shall we contact you?' Edwenna turned to Daniz: 'He knows how.' Me? 'The Ritual of Spirit-Elevation'?" Wait a moment, Captain—your meaning is that I have to stay with this madman, Gérard Spalro? No! No one knows when this man will suddenly go mad! Daniz shivered, quickly speaking: "Captain, I've been away from the *Golden Dream* for too long now, and I've missed so many courses! I'm eager to return!" He made a sincere effort to convey his genuine enthusiasm and thirst for knowledge: "I think someone else should take my place—someone like 'Ironskin,' or 'The Cask'..." But just as he finished speaking, Edwénna suddenly raised her right hand and pressed it to her ear. She slightly tilted her head, expression neutral, saying: "What did you just say? I can't hear you anymore. 'Rosaldo's dreamcraft' is nearing its limit..." The admiral's skirt swayed gently as she stepped back, her form rapidly fading into shimmering fragments. Daniz's subsequent words got stuck in his throat; he extended his right hand, trying to grasp something, but fell short. "The Roscelto Dreamwork"? The Emperor's presence in esoteric knowledge is quite strong indeed... "The Iceberg Admiral" is full name Edwena Edwards... Edwards... Isn't that the surname of one of the Emperor's "Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse"? A descendant? Yet, the tone of "The Iceberg Admiral" suggests she is unfamiliar with the Emperor's eldest daughter, Bernadette—possibly even unaware of her... Caine glanced at Daniz, whose expression had completely collapsed, and chuckled softly: "Perhaps one day, I'll call you the Ten-Thousand-Pound Man." ...Daniz was startled into straightening up, only to see the figure of Germain Spaulo vanish directly from his dreams. If I have only a Sequence 7, yet carry a reward of seven or eight thousand pounds, then no matter where I go, I'll inevitably become a target of others' attention... Daniz remained in the dream, growing more and more troubled. ...In the late afternoon, Daniz watched as Gorman Sparo, dressed in native attire, said: "Today we're visiting a local power—perhaps we can find some good things there. After all, they have substantial needs for extraordinary materials, food, and weapons." As he spoke, Daniz studied Gorman Sparo carefully, smiling with a rare sense of confidence: "Their region is entirely populated by natives—mixed-blood individuals are few. Anyone who stands out in appearance will be noticed. Your wide-legged pants paired with a brown jacket are acceptable, but your innerwear must be different. The true locals wear Talarab shirts, similar to sea-shirts, but entirely blue or white. They don't wear baseball caps; instead, they wear headscarves or go without any headwear at all." "There's also the issue that your clearly Ruin-born appearance will face severe rejection and hostility—like a wolf thrown into a flock of sheep, completely unable to conceal your presence..." Before he had finished speaking, Daniz noticed Germán Sparo turn his head and glance at him. The deep features softened instantly, and the pale complexion flushed to a warm copper hue. In just a single motion, Germán had transformed into an unmistakable, unremarkable native. "...Ah," Daniz stammered, remaining composed for several seconds before offering a casual, dry chuckle. "I've experienced that too—I have to constantly disguise myself." Your disguise? Hm... Cline removed his baseball cap and sat down in the chair. "What local factions?" You've even acquired extraordinary materials, grain, and weapons? "Well, to put it simply, well, the Resistance." Daniz suddenly found himself uncertain whether Germán Sparo had any connection at all with the official Ruin government. Cline paused internally for a moment. "The Resistance?" "Daniz smiled awkwardly, saying, 'They're all shouting for independence—the people who manage local affairs, based deep in the jungle and on the sea, collaborating with many pirates and adventurers. Of course, the main supporters behind them are the Fasak and Intis people. Regularly, missionaries from the 'War God' and 'Eternal Scorching Sun' churches sneak over here.'" Bayam wasn't being particularly calm... Leaving the kingdom and stepping into the sea, Caine finally grasped what international dynamics truly meant—something far beyond simply reading about wars in the eastern region of Bayland. He gave a gentle nod, agreeing to visit that local force without hesitation. After leaving the "Blue Wind" inn, Caine followed Daniz, whose face was painted black, navigating through the streets and alleys, heading steadily southeast. Beyond the earliest reaches of the "City of Generosity," they entered a district of strikingly diverse architectural styles—some houses supported by wooden pilings with empty lower levels, others evolving from the small Roon-style buildings into three- or four-story structures arranged side by side. The streets between them were narrow and dirty, lined with numerous stalls selling an array of stone-made headpieces, earrings, and bracelets, predominantly in vivid red and richly patterned hues. "A rather odd group in their tastes," Daniz murmured softly, "always favoring bold, vibrant colors—much like the venomous snakes of the jungle." The people of Intis were no better off, he thought, with their strong preference for gold, for elegance, and for refinement—clearly carrying the unmistakable stamp of nouveau riche. As they passed one after another of the darker-skinned, slender, and gaunt native inhabitants, and wove through alleys where clothes hung drying overhead, they suddenly found themselves greeted by a spacious, though modest, plaza. On the square, a group of locals gathered around the central pond, kneeling, prostrating themselves, murmuring prayers, or softly singing—expressing devotion yet appearing numb. As soon as someone approached, they suddenly rose, hurriedly rushing into the surrounding alleys. The windows on the second, third, and fourth floors of every house along the perimeter clattered shut one by one, leaving the square notably quiet. Yet Klein's inspiration told him that many people were watching from behind the windows, from the corners of the alleys, and in the shadowed corners, gazing at the strangers who had suddenly entered their world. Daniz lowered his head and spoke softly, "Don't worry—this is their self-protection." "Hmm?" Klein expressed his curiosity. Daniz chuckled, "Before the complete colonization, the indigenous people of the Rosed Islands had long believed in the 'Sea God' Cavituwa, who they believed appeared as a great sea serpent and protected all the islands from being swallowed by earthquakes and tsunamis." "Now, this faith has officially been suppressed on the surface, and the Storm Church has been relentlessly attacking pagans. Even the Night Church and the Steam Church struggle to expand their influence here, managing only a handful of churches. "Yet in reality, how easily can a faith that has existed for hundreds or even thousands of years be erased? In Bayam, on Blue Mountain Island, and in the Rosted Sea region, there remain numerous devotees of the 'Sea God.' Even though batches of followers are captured and executed by various forms of severe punishment every month or two, the situation cannot be reversed in the short term. The core strength of the resistance movements lies precisely among these 'Sea God' believers. "I believe it will take at least a century of sustained pressure before the faith of the 'Sea God' is completely extinguished—of course, assuming no other disruptive factors arise." Danzhiz knocked on the door on his left. "Who?" a low voice answered from within. Danzhiz smiled lightly and replied, "Friends bringing wine and roasted meat." "Where?" the person inside asked a strange question. Danzhiz stepped back and said, "At sea." The door creaked open slowly, and Kline saw a bare arm. On that arm, a vivid, fierce sea serpent in shades of blue and green was etched.