Originally, Micah should have been present during the sailor recruitment to check if these expendables had any infectious diseases and conduct basic physical examinations.  

But Micah had been preoccupied with his usual pursuits since dawn. At this hour, the brothels probably weren't even open yet—still being cleaned.  

However, Ox knew Micah's character all too well. The East Coast had quite a few decent schools, let alone a major city like Linden. Not all students came from noble families—even those with some money had to work part-time under the burden of hefty tuition fees. Female students couldn't handle heavy labor, so they had to rely on their talents. Right now, Micah was likely lurking near a school, "supporting" struggling students.  

This time, the clean split alone amounted to twenty-five gold dragons. Once the stolen jewelry found distribution channels, another dozen or so gleaming coins stamped with the emblem of the Eternal and Timeless Dragon—the state religion of Arlan—would come their way. Even if intellectuals with good grades demanded higher prices, copper coins wouldn't cut it—silver would have to do. Micah could indulge to his heart's content.  

But after watching Micah's examinations so many times, even an idiot could replicate them. Ox had his own methods. Those with obvious rashes or skin diseases could be dismissed outright.  

"Open your mouth."  

Ox inspected their teeth, tongues, and the sides of their necks for swelling. He didn't understand the principles behind it, but as long as there were no glaring issues, it was fine.  

Ox even went as far as roughly squeezing their limbs to test their bone and muscle strength. Even the healthy ones yelped under his grip—those with ailments would've passed out on the spot.  

"Alright, you pass. Get on the ship. That guy who looks like a dog will be your superior—he'll show you your quarters. Eight silver coins a month, same as the navy. While the Admiral might delay pay, we don’t. If you’re fine with that, get aboard. Keep your eyes sharp—no other shabby ship offers this deal. Meat every day. Tie your head to your belt and hold on tight. Next!"  

Ox was deeply dissatisfied with the progress. Given the Fumark Vengeance's size, with riggers, fighters, carpenters working in shifts, plus cooks and combat-ready crew, the ideal number was around one hundred fifteen sailors—preferably all battle-hardened. But the applicants were pathetic. Most wouldn’t last a day on the Mirror Sea Alliance's front lines before being cut down.  

The docks of Secret Port were bustling early in the morning with desperate souls seeking livelihoods. Most were refugees turned pirates—malnourished, sallow, ragged, and with no sailing experience. They’d need training.  

After all this time, Ox had only managed to pick three strong, experienced candidates. At this rate, they’d never set sail.  

"What was your previous job?"  

Shadi eyed one applicant.  

"Not sure if gambling counts. Sometimes I won a bit. Went to my usual spot last night, but it was shut down. Figured I’d find work."  

A young man in his early twenties answered earnestly.  

Shadi was impressed—gambling as a profession?  

"Get lost."  

Ox didn’t waste words. What kind of idiots were these?  

Li Site, inspecting the recruitment, also noticed the difficulties. Under the current "virtuous governance" of the Beima king, inland villages were worse off. These dock refugees could barely work, let alone fight.  

"Annoying. Maybe I’ll just hire a headhunter in the city."  

Li Site didn’t want a crew of weaklings. They’d lose dozens before even reaching Heaven’s Port, forget about raiding.  

"Headhunter?"  

Ox was baffled. Li Site always came up with flashy terms.  

"A middleman, informant. Recruit pirates who’ve already got experience."  

Li Site planned to visit Beima’s royal descendant after this job—with or without success. A referral would help. The noble loved taking in retainers—the more impressive, the better. If he saw this ragtag bunch, it’d be embarrassing. Might even get the "hero’s treatment" and be dismissed. Needed to show some force.  

Li Site was in high spirits—money, strongmen, and boundless prospects aboard.  

"Why stick with your shitty ships? Join mine—steady pay, meat every month, and shares better than your garbage haul."  

Li Site shouted arrogantly at nearby pirate crews.  

Some seemed tempted, but none responded. Switching ships on a whim? That’d ruin their reputations. Many glared but stayed silent. Li Site had been around the East Coast for years—a local power. Recently, he’d been thriving in both legal and illegal circles.  

"Remember twenty days ago? My arms ached from killing. If you’re hiring, get independents. Former crews? No thanks."  

Ox didn’t want a repeat.  

"Fair." Li Site slapped his head. "Keep recruiting. Swap with Wolman and Ren when tired—those two slackers."  

His gaze then fell on Fen. A thought struck him.  

"Know what’s missing? Our ship’s all physical damage. Need some magical firepower."  

Fen replied, "Technically, there’s no such classification."  

Fen figured Li Site had read too many inflated adventurer tales—romanticized nonsense by the guild to lure members. Damage types? Nonsense.  

Those wandering charlatans in the guild—could they compare to him? All things had fundamental origins, whether physical or logical. Magic was just resonance with these principles—an objective law.  

Some sorcerers grasped fragments, manipulating single elements. But Fen was different. Beyond necromancy, he mastered all elemental arts—though he’d never shown his full capabilities. Even at the Perdan National Arcane Academy, had he not caused trouble, his portrait would’ve hung in the halls for alumni to admire.  

"You’ve got connections—Thieves’ Guild contacts, your academy, that sorcerer alliance you joined… what was it? Some Tower thing. Get us a few proper mages."  

Li Site remembered. The illiterate fugitives aboard had no connections—just prison buddies. No high-tier talent. Now that business was expanding, brute force wasn’t enough. They needed brains—Fen was the key.  

Fen stared at Li Site like he was an idiot.  

"You think a highly educated man—with a luxurious home, noble companions, a court sorcerer’s rank, at least a baron’s title, a pillar against religious forces, a top talent of the Tower Alliance—would board a pirate ship? Endure weeks without bathing among outlaws, drift endlessly, earn blood-stained coins, and wallow in cheap booze and vulgarity?"  

Li Site pondered, then said, "Aren’t you exactly that?"  

Even Fen cursed.  

"Damn you—"  

Fen drew his sword to strike.  

"First Mate, no! This is mutiny!"  

Archer intervened.  

"Let’s hurry into the city—you’re scaring people off."  

Shadi massaged his temples. Maybe he’d recruit some dark elf brethren. The old Black Sails took anyone who could work, but after last night, they needed elites. Without strongmen, they couldn’t protect the treasures Sven brought. The Thieves’ Guild was treacherous—fighting dirty like sludge.