Chapter 774: Calming the Wind and Waves

Though he sensed something was amiss, Lu San had no time to overthink.

He looked up—and his pupils shrank slightly.

On the deck of the Lin family’s treasure ship, Sha Li Fei was organizing the Lin sailors into defense.

They stood back-to-back, forming an outward-facing circle.

Some slashed with swords to cut down grappling hooks flung upward; others crouched at the rail, firing downward.

Blood sprayed everywhere; firelocks roared.

Others were not idle either, each employing their own methods to repel the enemy.

Kuai Dayou, Lin the Fat, and Kong Shangzhao guarded the cabin entrance; the three moved in perfect sync—one blocked with a blade, another threw flying daggers, one fired while the third protected his back.

Inside the cabin lay the Twelve Zodiacs’ family treasures—extremely precious.

Any water bandit who approached the cabin was cut down.

The most terrifying to the enemy was unquestionably Long Yan’er.

As she waved her water sleeves, parasitic insects surged forth; many water bandits near the Lin ship had the insects burrow into their bodies, losing their sanity and frenziedly slashing at their own comrades.

Yet among the bandits, too, were masters who unleashed hidden weapons.

Long Yan’er could only dodge while casting her spells.

As for Wu Ba, he held the tiger squat cannon, eyes locked on the water.

He did not fire—only kept shifting the barrel’s aim.

Lu San’s heart tightened; he followed Wu Ba’s gaze to the turbulent water.

He too felt two sinister energies lurking—like venomous snakes watching.

Finally, on a distant skiff, he saw two figures.

One wore a tattered blue robe, gaunt and ashen-faced, sunken eye sockets like a skull, sparse white hair, and clutched a soul-summoning banner.

The other was a woman, dressed in a female opera costume, her face painted with thick greasepaint—half-smiling, half-crying.

They were none other than the master of the Yangzhou Ghost Opera Troupe, “Huangquan Sanren,” and “Qingluo Niang.”

Ghost Opera Troupe demons!

Though Lu San did not know their names, he recognized their identities.

The “Huangquan Sanren” held the soul-summoning banner, muttered incantations, and stared fixedly at the great ship—clearly using some mind-disrupting soul-distortion technique.

The opera actress faced the murky water, her orchid fingers slightly curled, as if singing.

As she chanted, the water around her twisted into strange whirlpools, releasing a cold, filthy aura that made the bandits even more frenzied.

They hid well, concealed behind other boats.

Wu Ba sensed their general direction but could not pinpoint them precisely.

After all, his awakened ability was bodily mastery—he lacked strong detection skills and could not see clearly beyond a short distance.

Worse still, bandits skilled in watercraft had already drilled beneath the hull.

As waves churned, wood shavings floated up continuously.

“Wu Ba, over there!”

Lu San immediately quickened his pace and shouted.

At the same time, the hawk Ling Dong had flown overhead and let out a piercing cry above the Ghost Opera duo.

They had practiced such coordination many times.

Wu Ba instantly understood, and fired at the water beneath the hawk’s cry.

Damn it!

“Huangquan Sanren” and “Qingluo Niang,” sensing the danger, pushed off with force, unleashed hidden power, and used a concealment technique—transforming into two thick clouds, one black, one white, swiftly dispersing.

Boom!

A thunderous explosion erupted, flames and smoke rising as water sprayed ten feet high.

Wu Ba had used buckshot—every small boat in that stretch of water shattered into splinters.

The thick fog had earlier prevented him from wasting shots; now, the tiger squat cannon finally unleashed its power.

The attacking bandits were startled.

Perhaps fearing the cannon’s might, perhaps freed from the Ghost Opera duo’s mind-distorting magic, perhaps seeing the Yangzhou fog dissipate—they finally regained clarity. The one-eyed leader shouted:

“Hard targets! Wind’s picking up—run!”

At his command, the bandits scattered in all directions.

Lu San would not let them escape—he chanted a spell and tapped the demonic gourd.

“Hum—!”

A black cloud burst from the gourd’s mouth, instantly spreading with a low, ominous hum.

Hummmmm!

It made the scalp crawl.

These little creatures fed on poison Gu ; since Long Yan’er joined the team, all failed, uncontrollable Gu insects had been fed to the demonic gourd—and the poison bees grew fiercer.

Amid a dense buzzing, they surged toward bandits trying to jump into the water or climb onto small boats to flee.

Screams instantly tore through the smoky air.

“Ah—my eyes!”

“Poison! Poison bees!”

The bandits thrashed like ants poured with boiling water—rolling, slapping, even diving into the water on the narrow decks or murky river.

The bees’ stings carried poison, piercing skin and burrowing deep into flesh.

Excruciating pain and rapid paralysis robbed them of combat ability; like fish strangled by invisible hands, they convulsed helplessly on the deck, foaming at the mouth, or plunged straight into the water, bubbling with murky air.

Instantly, the river surface was covered with writhing, clawing figures—chaotic and horrific.

Long Yan’er’s gaze was icy; her water sleeves flicked like living snakes before her.

A few faint pale-green powders drifted into the air with the wind; the poison bees, as if receiving orders, became more precise and frenzied, targeting exposed skin of the bandits.

Soon, the entire bandit group was wiped out.

Some died of pain and sank into the water; others begged desperately, crawling on small boats under Sha Li Fei and the sailors’ gaze, raising their hands in surrender while wailing.

Yet even as the poison bees raged, the Ghost Opera duo vanished without a trace.

Lu San shook his head slightly—he had no plan to pursue.

The situation was too chaotic, the threat unclear; chasing after them would only invite disaster.

Meanwhile, hurried footsteps and clashing metal rang out from beyond the dock.

Xu Zhenshan arrived with disciples from the Enforcement Hall and the Yangzhou Commandant’s forces, flooding in.

Each face was grim; swords and spears drawn, firelocks glinting coldly in their hands.

“Form ranks! Fire!”

The Commandant’s officer barked, voice hoarse.

The fog had long been swept away by the river wind; visibility was clear.

The remaining Japanese pirates , stripped of smoke cover and seeing the large force of imperial troops arrive, panicked.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

Amid rapid, chaotic gunfire, lead bullets rained like a sudden storm.

Many Japanese pirates burst into bloodsprays—like ripe berries crushed—and fell in droves.

Those who resisted were swiftly torn apart by the organized volleys of the naval troops.

Yet among the Japanese pirates were still fierce warriors skilled in strange arts.

Seeing defeat inevitable, several dark shadows dashed toward the stacked cargo crates and reed thickets by the river.

Some hurled several glossy black pellets.

“Bang! Bang!” The pellets exploded on impact—not with fire, but with thick, acrid, gray-white smoke that obscured vision.

Within the smoke, shadowy ninja figures flickered.

When the river wind scattered the smoke slightly, the figures were gone—only puddles of water and broken reed stems remained, clearly having used concealment techniques to vanish into the distant, endless mountains…

…………

The battle finally ended.

But the cost of victory was horrifying.

The Yangzhou officials had reached the high ground beside the dock and stared at the scene before them; even those accustomed to death could not help but draw a sharp breath.

The once-wide canal now resembled a floating hellish altar.

Burning fire ships stood at the center of the tragedy.

Several massive, imposing naval warships had been fully ignited, their hulls like giant torches, flames licking the pitch-black sky, staining the river blood-red.

At intervals, the keels of ships cracked and collapsed with piercing, grating sounds amid the fire.