Chapter 77

"Huh, huh, huh, huh... Oh, Lord, you're awake! That's great!"

Hearing the sudden rapid breathing from the unconscious Luo Zhengdao, the short and plump ship's doctor, Derek Kim, who had been enduring the contemptuous gazes of his colleagues, was suddenly jolted awake. When he confirmed that Luo Zhengdao's eyes were indeed open and not a hallucination, he immediately started shouting.

Luo Zhengdao, who was in a state of extreme physical and mental weakness, could hardly bear Derek's loud voice. He raised his hand with great effort to cover his ears, half-opening his eyes and said, "Derek, how long have I been unconscious?"

"Lord, it's been three days."

Upon hearing this, Luo Zhengdao let out a long breath. In a daze, he recalled the dire situation before the curse of the Wasteland God had taken effect. Worried, he said, "That Najef..."

Derek Kim, with red-rimmed eyes and a choked voice, recounted the battle of the previous days in a brief and concise manner. Emotionally agitated, he said, "He's been shaken off. For now, there's no immediate danger. Everyone is very concerned about your health."

Seeing this, Luo Zhengdao displayed a helpless and exasperated expression. With a weary look, he closed his eyes, as if taking a nap or thinking deeply, and then said in a low voice, "Don't worry, I'm fine. A little ailment won't kill me."

Luo Zhengdao was determined to keep the inside story of the Wasteland God's curse to himself, not mentioning a single word to anyone. In a sense, this was not about trust but rather the futility of the matter. For mortals, it was an unsolvable problem.

In the New World, the immensely powerful Magic Card Masters and the Wasteland Gods were like two prehistoric tyrannosaurs battling for control of the territory. The lowly mortal races were akin to mice and insects cowering under the feet of these giants, trembling in the grass and burrows, praying not to be caught in the giants' battles. A single misstep could result in being crushed into unrecognizable meat paste. The idea that a mouse could resolve the conflict between the tyrannosaurs was absurd. Even if he revealed the truth, Luo Zhengdao did not believe that ordinary people had the ability to help him with the curse of the Wasteland God.

Although the physical symptoms of the Wasteland God's curse were extremely severe each time it flared up, the Magic Card Master's power within Luo Zhengdao would repair the damage afterward. This was a repetitive process, a tug-of-war, but the experience of being the battlefield was far from pleasant.

Less than half an hour after regaining consciousness, Luo Zhengdao shook off the support of others and insisted on walking on his own. After struggling to get out of bed, the sickly-looking Luo Zhengdao, wrapped in a cloak, came to the deck. He scanned the faint damage marks on the ship's body, and the scene of the fierce battle from that day seemed to reappear before his eyes. A glint of hatred flashed in his eyes as he asked the boatswain, "Where did that bastard Najef run off to?"

Zola Hegel shrugged and said, "I'm not sure, but as long as he doesn't give up, we'll see him again sooner or later."

Luo Zhengdao had no objection to the persistence of the evil sorcerer. He also wanted to eliminate Najef, and Najef undoubtedly had the same intention. There would be opportunities to meet again. Luo Zhengdao laughed and said, "Zola, have there been any new developments while I was unconscious?"

"Of course. We encountered a convoy of the Elven Federation and received a new bounty notice from them."

As he spoke, the boatswain handed a rough papyrus to Luo Zhengdao. In the New World, materials like parchment, which required dozens of sheepskins or a few cowhides to make a small booklet, were expensive luxuries used only by the nobility, temples, and mages. Papyrus was the common writing material. However, its quality was far from commendable, and it crumbled easily. Luo Zhengdao thought it was too rough and fragile even for toilet paper.

Luo Zhengdao took the notice and squinted to read the few words he recognized. Soon, he couldn't help but sneer and said, "The goblins are offering a bounty of 50,000 gold coins for my head. They must think highly of me!"

In the previous battle, the sorcerer Najef's scheme had succeeded, and Luo Zhengdao had lost the Super Brave, the ship left by his adoptive father. The privateer fleet had returned to the days of having only one warship. Therefore, his desire to purchase a new warship had grown stronger.

From past experiences, Luo Zhengdao had a clear understanding of what kind of warship he needed. In the naval battles of the New World, only sturdy ships and powerful cannons could ensure victory.

The traditional pirate tactic of using small, fast ships to survive was not suitable for his complex situation and the increasing intensity of battles. The Super Brave, after significant modifications, was a decent pirate ship, but it still couldn't withstand the enemy's powerful attacks. Luo Zhengdao had no intention of repeating the same mistake. Moreover, he had to be cautious not only about robbing others but also about being set up. The goblins' bounty of 50,000 gold coins was a significant amount, and the lure of wealth could indeed be dangerous.

Zola Hegel, watching Luo Zhengdao with interest, chuckled and said, "Not just the goblins' bounty, I've heard many bounty hunters are also after you. Congratulations, Captain! You're quite a celebrity now."

Luo Zhengdao rolled his eyes and said, "Oh, even those stray dogs are after me? They must think I'm a fat target. That's really insulting!"

As they were talking, Foul Chopin, who had heard the news, rushed over. Seeing Luo Zhengdao unharmed, his old face was filled with joy. He bowed and said, "Lord, I heard you've recovered. That's wonderful news."

Luo Zhengdao nodded with a bitter smile and sighed, "Foul, you're here too. By the way, why did the fire on the Super Brave spread so uncontrollably? Didn't we have a well-planned damage control system?"

The one-eyed captain, still regretful about losing the warship, looked gloomy. After a moment's thought, he replied, "Lord, the flame on that crossbow bolt wouldn't go out. When we poured water on it, it dried up immediately. We didn't have enough sand buckets to smother the fire, and no one dared to touch it. The cursed bolt hit the base of the mast, and the fire spread from the lower deck. It was just bad luck."

Nodding as he listened, Luo Zhengdao comforted the old Foul, saying, "Don't be upset. We'll get a new warship. How many casualties were there?"

"The evacuation was timely, and there weren't many injuries among the sailors. Only a few were burned while fighting the fire."

Hearing this, Luo Zhengdao felt somewhat relieved. Najef had set a deadly trap, and it was fortunate that he had escaped unharmed. It was a testament to his strength and good fortune. He nodded and said, "Foul, you did well. Preserving the crew is more important than anything. We can buy a new warship, but we can't bring the dead back to life."

Whether in the old world or the new, whether in the age of wooden sailing ships or the era of ironclads and battleships, or even in the information age of aircraft, missiles, aircraft carriers, and satellites, the navy has always been a technologically and financially intensive branch of the military. Unlike the army, where some incompetence could be tolerated, the navy required high standards. Those who reached high positions in the navy had to have specialized skills to avoid being kicked out.

There was no room for slackers on the cramped warships. Each person had a specific role, and excellent individual skills were a prerequisite for survival in the navy.

The captain, first mate, second mate, quartermaster, gunner, boatswain, navigator, carpenter, and ship's doctor all needed to be proficient in their respective fields. Luo Zhengdao's rise to captain through funding and social status was an unusual exception.

When the senior crew members of the Yangwei learned that Luo Zhengdao had awakened, they put aside their work and came to the deck to visit him. The loss of the person who held the privateer fleet together had been felt by everyone in the past few days, and they did not want to be part of a disintegrating organization.

After a brief exchange, Luo Zhengdao got straight to the point, saying, "The most urgent task now is to find a supply port. We need to prepare for a trip to the Yaling Empire to purchase warships. We can't delay this any longer."

Hearing this, the listeners hesitated. Luo Zhengdao had always complained about not having enough money, and this was indeed the case in their minds. Why was the money suddenly sufficient now?

"Lord, has the funding for purchasing warships... been gathered?"

Zola Hegel, with the least reservations, was the first to voice the confusion. Facing the questions, Luo Zhengdao put on a straightforward face and patted his chest, saying, "I originally planned to get a few third- and fourth-class battleships to prevent the goblins from overwhelming us with numbers. Unfortunately... the situation doesn't allow it. We'll have to lower our standards. I think a few sixth-class ships will suffice for now, and the funds we've saved up should be enough."

Foul Chopin, an experienced sailor, although he liked the idea of large ships and powerful cannons, was well aware of the navy's insatiable appetite for resources. He said, "Lord, should we buy a few used warships first? Ordering new ones is too expensive and time-consuming."