The mist released by the [Second-Level Wonder - Mist Cloak] covered a vast area, primarily serving to block long-distance scouting. Visibility wasn't too bad at close range. In just an instant, the Mist Cloak allowed the spirited allied fleet and the arrogant Barbary Pirates to clearly see each other.

"QUACK! Misunderstanding... We're just passing through."

Jerome, a Frogman resembling a giant toad, realized the situation was turning sour and tried to retract his previous statement.

Aboard his flagship, a Level 5 Ship named the "Frog Warrior," on the open deck, a gunner, intimidated by the formidable presence of the allied fleet, unwittingly triggered the flintlock in his hand. In an instinctive reaction, it landed on the touchhole of the 12-pounder cannon before him.

BOOM!

The blazing orange-red cannon flash suddenly illuminated the misty sea.

Under the watchful eyes of many, a solid cannonball drew an arc across the sky and crashed directly onto the "Support," a Fourth-rate Ship under the command of Rear Admiral Newman, positioned at the very front.

"AHH—!"

Even though it was only a 12-pound solid shot, it easily destroyed a wooden gun carriage on the open deck of the Fourth-rate Ship. Bouncing, it claimed the lives of several Navy sailors before finally crashing into the sea from the other side, splashing up a white spray.

This wasn't the gunner acting on his own. It was a standard practice for all pirates during a raid. Firing a cannon was not intended to kill but to intimidate the "fat sheep" they were about to plunder, making them surrender without a fight.

However, if the target was not a fat sheep but a pack of ravenous wolves, then such a shot signified an outright declaration of war.

Rear Admiral Newman's complexion turned green instantly. "Barbary Pirates? Why would the minions of the Ocean Throne suddenly attack us? This is too audacious!"

The others hadn't yet grasped what was happening.

"Enemy attack—!"

Byron, who had been privy to the action plans of both sides, was well-prepared. He shouted to his Privateer Fleet, "Fleet, focus fire! Target the pirate ship straight ahead! Fire!"

The gunners had already formed a conditioned response to his command, never asking who the opponent was, only where. Never mind a bunch of pirates; even if it were the flagship of their own King Edward IV, hesitating for an extra second would be doing a disservice to their deposits at the Pioneer Bank.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!...

Sixteen pirate ships let loose a simultaneous roar from a hundred cannons on one broadside, the fierce cannon fire thoroughly illuminating the area. Hundreds of cannonballs, carrying shrieking whistles, tore through the sky and mercilessly smashed into the Barbary Pirate fleet led by the "Frog Warrior."

Instantly, a gory storm ensued, with limbs and body parts strewn about.

Byron snapped his fingers. A flash of the Golden Law subtly shimmered in the air, sealing off all communication within and outside his Royal Domain. For at least a short while, no one would know what had transpired here.

At the same time, he didn't forget to call out to the other international fleets surrounding him, "Gentlemen, these filthy Barbary Pirates want to steal the International Port that we've painstakingly built! Let's fight them with all we've got!"

Many lives and fortunes within this fleet were irrevocably bound to Georgetown Port. And there was no telling how many ordinary sailors, not so wealthy, had bought the International Port infrastructure bonds issued by the Governor's Mansion. If a High Sequence Prophet had activated their Spirit Vision, they might have dimly perceived countless colossal golden chains of interest, firmly Anchoring the Joint Fleet in Georgetown Port. In certain circumstances, they were undoubtedly a community of shared interest!

Upon hearing Byron's voice, the various powers immediately reacted.

"Drop the Dragon Dung Potions! Force those Sea Monsters out of the water!"

"Free fire! Before we can even plunder the People of Castilia, they want to plunder us? They all take turns bullying us poor folks! To death with them!"

Neither the so-called International Port nor the Joint Fleet was ever a single entity. There was no one of sufficient prestige to serve as the overall commander of the fleet, whose mere call to arms would gather a host of followers. Even among themselves, they were full of contradictions and would not easily submit to another's command. It was merely that, in the face of the vast interests of Yucatan Island, the major powers had led the negotiation of a non-aggression pact within the International Port. Outside its confines, however, heads were still to be broken.

To them, someone wanting to slaughter the Governor? No problem. Robbing the port? Absolutely not!

Perhaps in the eyes of Governor Velazquez of Havana or "Blue Hair" Barbarossa Halding, they were nothing but a disorganized mob. If they were to engage in battle with a fleet of equal size, they would surely suffer a crushing defeat. But when faced with a Pirate Fleet aided by only three Third Order individuals and a bunch of Sea Monsters, they needed no tactics. Blindfolded, their cannon fire alone could bury them.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!...

For a moment, three hundred Warships fired simultaneously, and it seemed as if the ocean itself retreated half a step under the barrage. The Pirate Fleet, showered in cannon fire, collapsed instantly.

"AHHH...."

"Help!"

Hulls were pierced. Merciless cannonballs ricocheted, rolling from one side of the deck to the other, shredding everything in their path to pieces. Rigging that secured the masts was severed. Heavy spars crashed down, killing who knows how many pirates. Mast after mast was broken, drastically reducing their mobility and turning them into sitting ducks...

Suddenly, the waters were filled with the heavy scent of blood. The Man-Eater Sharks trailing the Golden Deer could not help but become agitated, yet they feared the expanding yellow-green pollution emanating from the entire fleet and kept their distance.

Frogman Jerome, who had completely abandoned his human form and transformed into a frog, took advantage of the enemy's reloading break to climb up from the deck, covered in soot and dirt. "No, this isn't right! This battle, these people, and the intelligence... it's all wrong! Wasn't Georgetown Port supposed to surrender at the first sight of the Ocean Throne's Pirate Flag? And where did this Joint Fleet bearing the colors of various nations come from? The Hightins' regular navy, Iris, Netherland, the Rhein Alliance, the Remit People... Why could these forces, which are usually fraught with contradictions, suddenly unite? And why were they here, lying in ambush to ensnare us?"

Turning his head towards the deck, he saw nothing but a scene of devastation. It was only thanks to his keen senses as a frog warrior, akin to those of a frog spirit, that he could dodge the screaming cannonballs time after time, narrowly escaping death. But his crew didn't have such abilities. Just a single barrage of thousands of cannonballs had caused blood to flow like rivers on the deck. Most of the gun positions couldn't even muster a five-man gun crew to retaliate. Moreover, their mere presence as three Third Order Transcendents made no difference in such large-scale combat operations.

Even worse, the encircling crescent moon formation had already begun to close in from both sides. The continued release of the Dragon Dung Potion, especially in this shallow sea location near the island, was enough to contaminate even the seabed, preventing Sea Monsters from escaping underwater.

One round! Two rounds! Three rounds!...

Half an hour passed.

Even those thick-skinned Sea Monsters, each bellowing in agony as they bled into the ocean, couldn't exert any of their power in such a dangerously tight encirclement. The battle was utterly predictable, with brute force overshadowing all.

Byron's days of plotting and Bruh's sacrifices—made while "enduring humiliation"—finally paid off handsomely at this moment.

Even if the Ocean Throne returns in the future, he won't be able to pin this on me. Although the Tayman Archipelago is mine, I most certainly don't know who killed your men. The murderer is definitely not 'me'!

Thinking this, he suddenly heard someone from the blood-frenzied fleet shout, "Prepare for boarding! Jump over and seize their ships! Surround them from all sides! It's like shooting fish in a barrel!"

"Those pirate ships, and the conch shells in their hands that can command Sea Monsters, are worth a fortune—don't let a single one escape!"

The Joint Fleet had already closed in to the point that firing again might cause friendly fire. They promptly sped up, howling monstrously as they swarmed towards the pirate ships.

"We are the Iris Navy! Hand over your gold, silver, jewels, Spices, and Sea Monsters at once!"

"Don't waste our time! Surrender immediately!"

"..."

Even the words they shouted sounded all too familiar. Those who traveled thousands of miles to seek fortune overseas—regardless of race, nationality, or profession—were essentially not much different at their core. You absolutely wouldn't find a single herbivore among them. When the roles of predator and prey reversed, the roles of robber and victim reversed as well. For a moment, it was hard to distinguish who the infamous pirates were and who the elite gentlemen of various countries were.

However, with a disparity of ten Warships for every one pirate ship, it was a typical case of too many wolves and not enough meat. Many forces, especially those in the lead, hastily pushed forward in a rush to seize the spoils of war. Even the Golden Deer, the ship famed for its speed on the seas, was left behind. The original crescent formation completely disintegrated into chaos.

Just as the overeager vanguard began to mix with the pirate ships and was about to complete the boarding...

DOOOT—!

A deep and resonant conch horn suddenly echoed across the entire battlefield.

In fact, even though the Barbary Pirates were caught off guard, at this stage, they still retained their final trump card. At the start of the battle, they had created a miniature Blue Hole, protecting themselves within it. The "Large Species - Barnacle Crab," which had remained hidden beneath the sea, now flexed its might once again.

WHOOSH...

The tide surged, enveloping both the Pirate Fleet and the part of the vanguard already entangled with them within a two-kilometer radius.

Bathed in blood, unaware of how many stray bullets he'd taken, Frogman Jerome glared fiercely at every ship of the Allied Army before him, his voice as shrill as a lone wolf's, "QUACK! An entire hour has passed! The cooldown for the Deep Sea Leap is finally over! Everyone, follow me to Campeche Bay and atone for your ignorance and arrogance!"

Only those who possessed the contract conches knew the limitations of using the "Deep Sea Leap":

"A single Blue Hole can cover a maximum area of two kilometers, with a maximum precise teleportation distance of 1,500 kilometers. (Multiple Barnacle Crabs can stack; this was how the main force instantly moved from the easternmost to the westernmost part of the Bantaan Archipelago.) It can be used three times per day, with an interval of no less than one hour between uses. If the Barnacle Crabs accompany you, it's a round trip, allowing for return. If the crabs don't accompany you, it's a one-way journey—you can go but not come back."

Witnessing a scene eerily similar to the Pirate Fleet's first appearance, the others finally realized the role of this large Species Sea Monster.

Confident in the strong firepower of his Fourth-rate Ship and having rushed to the forefront at the start, Rear Admiral Newman's face suddenly turned pale. "Not good! We need to retreat immediately!"

The other forces who sought quick successes also turned ashen. They quickly adjusted their rudders, but was there any time left?

"QUACK! It's already too late! No one within two kilometers can escape! His Excellency "Blue Hair" will give you the punishment you deserve!"

Just as the Frogman held the conch, immensely grateful for surviving the skill cooldown, an unfamiliar voice sounded behind him. "Why did you inscribe your name on my conch? Take this—my Sword Drawing Technique!"

A chill went down his spine, and he turned around in an instant. The Frogman, who had climbed his way to become a Third Order Transcendent, was well-accustomed to deceit at sea. What someone shouts before making a move doesn't matter. Because what they hold in their hands is most likely different from what they shout. But usually, when someone shouts, "Take this, my sword!" at most they mean lime powder, Firearms, Crossbows, Voodoo Potions... that kind of filthy trick. And he was confident he could easily dodge them all.

But when he turned his head and saw the terrifying presence of the three barrels—which felt like they were right in his face, even though they were clearly seven steps away—he couldn't help but let loose a curse, "QUACK? This... what the **** is this sword?!!"

Filthy. Utterly filthy. The newcomer's tactics were dirty, but the Frogman's curses were even dirtier.