The squabble at the dock had escalated into shoving.

Facing the loud and fierce denunciation from the creditor, the pirate officer named Viktor was not to be outdone. He yanked his sleeve out of Mikhail's grasp and declared, neck stiff with defiance, "I only know that such a thing happened, but Captain Hook and you discussed all the specifics of the loan contract privately. I've never even seen the original paper documents. How would I know how much is owed, let alone how to repay it? Every debt has a debtor, and every grievance an instigator. You should go find Captain Hook. If you can catch up with that Ghost Ship he boarded... oh, wait. He was devoured by a Cursed Object in the Aztec Empire; not even his soul escaped. If you've got the guts, slit your own throat and go chase him in the afterlife. If not, then get lost.

"Besides, we're in legitimate business now. Can't you see the sign of the Pioneer Guiding Colonial Trading Company? The one hanging next to the Earldom's Governor's Mansion emblem, that's it."

The quartermaster was a role typically elected by the crew to counterbalance the captain's power. He had participated in arranging the high-interest loan, but he definitely wasn't Hook's confidant. Now, he only acknowledged Sea Hunter, not some Hook, so naturally, his tone was very firm.

Hearing this, the merchant Mikhail's face instantly darkened. "You stinking pirates! You borrowed money and now you won't admit it? Trying to play shameless, are you?"

The pirate officer, who had already switched allegiance, crossed his arms with an air of brazen indifference. Behind him, the "employees" of the Pioneer Guiding Colonial Trading Company—those engaged in "legitimate business"—were professionally and gradually gathering. Each pulled out the tools they used for their "daily work": Firearms, Crossbows, boarding axes... and other such perfectly reasonable little implements.

Mikhail's face was so cold it looked like a layer of frost could be scraped off it.

According to the just Silver Law, the maximum permissible annual interest rate was 173.33%. Any amount exceeding this wouldn't even be recognized by the Silver Law. The Remit People, who had made their fortunes on high-interest loans, could only rely on the most primitive form of armed debt collection if they wanted to earn even greater profits. Injuries and deaths during such collections were commonplace. Linking high-interest loans with the slave trade could allow them to profit twice from one person; they had always been adept at this.

"Arrogant and domineering! You pirates truly don't know how the word 'death' is written! All units, listen to my command!"

His elite Slave-catcher Team immediately snapped to attention. "Yes, Manager."

"We... let's hurry back and deliver the goods. It's not good to keep the clients waiting too long."

The men from the Golden Palm Trading Company immediately executed a perfectly synchronized about-face.

Armed and violent debt collection was, of course, no problem. The problem was that today's collection target clearly didn't look like they would cooperate. They had thought they were catching a fish that had slipped through the net, but who would have guessed this entire port was the fish's den? It seemed like everyone, inside and out, was one of *them*.

We're violent, but they're even more violent! This job is impossible!

If we don't leave now, we might not be able to leave at all.

At this moment, the Golden Deer had also docked, and a large group of people surged onto the shore with a great clamor.

"They're flying the flag of the Remit People's Golden Palm Trading Company! It's those damn profiteers again, bullying us honest folk?! I'll go chop them up!"

The Honest Man, Eight Fingers, became enraged upon seeing this flag and had just drawn his Bayfolk Battle Axe from his back.

Bruh had already activated "Sun Holy Sword" and Cognitive Revision, then charged forward in a single bound.

James, the most powerful Second Order "Treasure Guardian" among the Remit People's crew, immediately felt a bone-chilling sense of crisis from behind. His expression changed, and he slapped the golden coffer he carried at his side. A suit of Golden Armor, inlaid with various gemstones, automatically separated and then instantly assembled onto his body. Breastplate, battle skirt, war boots... and a helmet with two bull horns, closely resembling the legendary Beastman Minotaur who guarded labyrinths.

The core ability of a "Treasure Guardian" at the Second Order was the "Minotaur's Key"—an absolute defense for treasures! In terms of Mysticism, they were the metaphorical locks of treasure vaults. Until they were defeated, no one could take even a single Gold Coin from within. The higher the value of the vault, the stronger the Power they could unleash.

Legend had it that many Black Witches who dabbled with souls would bind the spirits of "Treasure Guardians" into their armor, compelling them to guard their treasure troves or mausoleums even after death.

Very useful!

James's fist suddenly erupted with golden light, crackling with the sound of thunder, as if it were a siege Heavy Hammer smashing violently behind him. It collided violently with a Two-Handed Heavy Sword that was as bright and scorching as the Sun.

CLANG—!

Amidst the deafening clang of metal against metal, both combatants retreated three steps.

"Sun Holy Sword" was powerful, but Bruh, having only recently advanced, had not yet reached the point where he could effortlessly cut down an opponent of the same order. However, the balance of power between them had shifted dramatically. When they first clashed, Bruh had been effortlessly defeated by this captain of the slavers, utterly unable to resist. Meanwhile, James and Mikhail were completely unaware that the man before them was the very same crippled slave they had once sold as material for witchcraft.

Both shook their tingling arms, preparing to fight again.

The other lawless pirates in the harbor, seeing the Slave-catcher Team so heavily outnumbered, were also itching for a fight. Bloodthirsty, violent flames danced in the eyes of these desperadoes. Given their overwhelming numbers, it would have been a dereliction of their professional duty not to strike.

"Everyone, stand down."

At this, the dense crowd around them parted like waves, and Byron, dressed in a Pirate General's uniform and shining military boots, strode in.

"Your Excellency the Governor, good day!"

"General."

"Captain, you're here."

The pirates, dockhands, and local commoners who had parted way all seemed to shrink in stature, like a field of wheat bending in the wind, as they respectfully doffed their hats in salute. Even the most vicious and wicked among the pirates became as docile as lambs in his presence.

Mikhail's forehead was already beading with cold sweat when he saw the familiar figure appear. He breathed a slight sigh of relief, but simultaneously, he couldn't believe his eyes and rubbed them vigorously. Only after a long moment did he dare to tentatively call out a name: "Governor? Pirate General? You... you're Captain Byron from Iron Anchor Bay?! Am I seeing things?"

The Remit People had their own "Venture Investment Plan," specifically designed to discover individuals with potential and provide them with various forms of funding before they rose to prominence. Then, once these individuals achieved success, they would, in turn, provide various returns to the Remit Group. Those they bribed or invested in extended far beyond just the Church, which might turn a blind eye to their activities. Business groups, pirates, ocean exploration companies, traditional nobility, small nations... their sprawling, covert investment network granted them terrifying potential power.

"Golden Eye" Mikhail certainly wouldn't misidentify someone. He had thought that Captain Byron, then a fledgling pirate just starting out, would sooner or later become a significant, named figure on the wanted posters (Chapter 45). Yet, he had never imagined that in just a few short months, Byron would have achieved such stature.

This stock had such potential! How did I miss it?! Oh, Lord, have You ceased to favor me?

He was so chagrined he wanted to beat his chest and stomp his feet, feeling like he'd missed out on a hundred million!

"Alright, everyone disperse. Put away your weapons; you're frightening the guests of Georgetown."

Byron waved away his group of menacing pirates and, smiling, nodded to Mikhail in greeting. "Mr. Mikhail, I heard everything just now. You're here about Hook's loan, correct? You should have seen by now that they have all pledged allegiance to me. If there are any problems, you can address them with me directly.

"However, we're all old acquaintances. We both know the score. I don't believe your company would lend out money so generously without any collateral or pledge.

"Moreover, I recall that "Golden Eye," "Pawnbroker," and "Banker" of the Gold Sequence, at the Third Order, all possess an ability called 'Contract Fraud,' do they not?

"It's precisely because of this ability that everyone in the business world became deeply wary. Subsequently, when doing business with your kind, people had to equip themselves with a "Ring of Truth," which significantly increased the cost of mutual trust in commerce."

Even with Mikhail's thick skin as a profiteer, his expression couldn't help but become a little unnatural when Byron so bluntly exposed him.

"Ahem, there's no such thing..."

Under Byron's half-smiling, playful gaze, he finally admitted the truth: "It was merely a treasure map for Silvergold Island."

Then Mikhail changed tack, no longer mentioning the loan contract. Instead, he revealed his true colors as a profiteer, enthusiastically pitching to Byron: "Captain Byron, I've had it appraised separately—by Navigators, and then by other Navigators to be sure. They used rhumb lines, combined with a Compass and a wind rose chart, to determine the specific coordinates where Silvergold Island is projected to appear. The location is in the Bantaan Archipelago!

"You should know, that's the treasure trove of the great pirate Flint, containing countless gold and silver, enough wealth to rival a nation!

"Moreover, it only appears during prime-numbered years. Each time it materializes, the treasure it holds is greater than the last. If we miss this opportunity, the next one might not come for decades.

"By then, we'll be too old to go treasure hunting.

"This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Well? Are you interested in a copy? I can give you a discount." As he spoke, he rubbed his fingers together in front of Byron.

With Hook dead, the treasure map that served as collateral was naturally his to dispose of. Capitalizing on the fame of Silvergold Island, he had already sold several copies, more than recouping the loan amount. The violent debt collection was merely an attempt to squeeze out more, just trying his luck—all for the sake of maximizing profit.

"Oh, so it's the treasure map of Silvergold Island!"

Hearing about Silvergold Island again did take Byron somewhat by surprise.

It feels like I've been hearing that name quite frequently lately.

However, his face showed no particular interest in the treasure map. Instead, he stepped forward and warmly grasped Mikhail's hand.

"We can discuss Silvergold Island later.

"Come, come, Mr. Mikhail, I actually have a surefire, profitable venture to introduce to you—something I wouldn't tell just anyone."

Byron draped an arm around Mikhail's shoulder and, pointing to the vast, undeveloped wasteland outside Georgetown, declared with impassioned enthusiasm: "Merchants are the best informed, so you should know what's happening on Yucatan Island, that land flowing with milk and honey. But you might not yet know that Georgetown International Port, situated at a vital transport nexus, is about to open to the world.

"It is said that the wise create opportunities, the strong seize them, and the weak await them. Mr. Mikhail, what are your thoughts? The land plots in our Tayman Archipelago are a scarce resource, with attractive prices and low down payments. First come, first served—don't miss out!"

This creditor... should he be killed or not? Of course, he must be 'slaughtered.'

But not a physical killing. Rather, it's to 'fleece' him—as in fleecing a fat sheep, or 'harvesting' him—as in harvesting leeks.