On this island, including the organizers of the bloody ritual and the young natives who had just come of age, only a mere few dozen remained who still possessed some fighting capability.

They had already panicked in the face of the sudden disaster.

All of them instinctively gathered near the Temple, hoping to hold out until the ritual ended and their kin from other islands came to their rescue. This just made it easy for the Pirates to encircle them.

Compared to average Taino People, this group of headhunters living on the edge of the "Celestial Sphere Circulation" were short, about the height of teenage boys. Their skin was dark, their hair slightly curly, and their faces were painted with eerie white oils. The inherited witchcraft system also differed somewhat from that of the mainstream Beast Spirit Warriors of the Bantaan Archipelago. Or rather, while the Bantaan Archipelago primarily utilized various Beast Spirits, these people employed the Undead spirits of humans from various walks of life. The Shrink Head Spell was one of their most common rituals.

At this moment, these survivors of the Pestilence, not yet dead, each wore a string of shrunken heads around their necks, each head the size of a fist. Upon entering a battle state, the eyes of these heads all opened, flickering with ghastly fire as they bestowed their power upon their masters.

"The spirits tell me these outsiders brought the Disease! They are devils with white skin!"

"Kill them!"

"AWOOOO..."

The headhunting natives let out intimidating roars, each clutching a blow dart made of human bone, and charged at the lined-up Pirates.

CLANG!

Alfred, standing at the forefront of the Musketeer Corps, slashed away a poisoned blow dart aimed at him. Seeing these headhunters, who had clearly never witnessed the power of firearms, foolishly rushing toward him without dodging, a bloodthirsty grin spread across his face.

"Three-rank firing! Open fire!"

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!...

Billowing gunsmoke and a searing line of fire instantly covered the entire battlefield. Even though the precision of these front-loading smoothbore muskets was disappointing, in a volley, the hit rate was effectively one hundred percent. In an instant, blood and brains splattered everywhere; screams and wails filled the air.

However, most of these surviving headhunters were Transcendents who had mastered Black Sorcery. Particularly among the tribal high-ranking members responsible for organizing the ritual, there was no shortage of Second Order masters. They also possessed extraordinary means such as "Human Head Death Replacement," "Skeletal Shields," and other witchcraft artifacts. After two volleys of three-rank firing, a few stragglers still managed to reach the front lines of the Pirates.

"Fix bayonets! Stab them to death!"

The Pirates promptly drew gleaming bayonets from the leather sheaths on their belts and fixed them to the muzzles of their firearms. In truth, the bayonet had only recently appeared on the Old Continent. It had not yet become popular in the Bantaan Archipelago, thousands of kilometers away. Moreover, the original version involved inserting the bayonet directly into the muzzle, rendering the firearm unusable for shooting, thus limiting its practicality. The version used by these Pirates under Byron's command was an improved model he had pioneered: the bayonet was attached outside the muzzle, allowing for both ranged and close combat. He had named it: the Sleeve Bayonet. A modified bayonet with a 32-centimeter blade was capable of piercing two adult men chest-to-chest, its power utterly ferocious.

"Brothers, the 'Sea Hunter' is forming his personal Guardsmen, the 'Wings of Death'! Whether or not you are selected and receive the best treatment in the entire company depends on your performance now!" Alfred bellowed.

"Let's go! Stab—!"

"ROAR! STAB!"

Hadn't they trained so hard for this very day? Their mission this time was not only to seize the Crystal Skull but also to test the results of their training in new battle tactics. Each fiercely thrust their firearm, now a makeshift spear, at the advancing enemy.

'Blood-Red Whiskey' had no intention of intervening, simply watching as the Musketeer Corps performed.

The Captain is truly a military genius, Alfred thought.

It had only been a few years since the transition from matchlocks to flintlocks, and even less time since the appearance of the bayonet. Many people caught in this tide of change had yet to realize the intense military tactical revolution that the synergy between flintlock guns and bayonets was about to unleash. The catalyst for this military upheaval was not only the seemingly more intricate flintlock firing mechanism but also the inconspicuous and seemingly low-tech bayonet. It was so unremarkable that Byron wasn't even awarded a Holy Relic for it.

Now, with orderly training within the Privateer Fleet, every pirate officer, personally trained by Byron, was well aware of the five major advantages of a Flintlock Gun corps equipped with bayonets.

Alfred once again heard Byron's lecture ringing in his ears:

"First, matchlocks all carry an open flame. If they are too close, there's a high risk of self-immolation or even igniting the gunpowder carried by comrades. They must maintain a distance of more than one person, making it impossible to form dense ranks. Flintlock Guns have no open flame, greatly increasing safety. They can be positioned very close together, forging a steel wall of gunfire and bayonets."

"Second, matchlocks are utterly useless in melee combat. They require separate long spearmen positioned on their flanks for protection, wasting much of their combat potential. A thousand-man legion would only have five hundred men firing at range; in close combat, still only five hundred. But with a Flintlock Gun equipped with a bayonet, one man can be both a musketeer and a spearman. At range, it's a thousand-man legion; in melee, it's still a thousand-man legion. One man, two roles—a great increase in combat power!"

"Third, matchlock formations have too much space between ranks. If they encounter a ferocious enemy charge, they tend to scatter easily and cannot hold their ground. But Flintlock Guns with bayonets can deliver volley fire at a distance, and up close, they can form a dense thicket of bayonets. Their formation would be tight, unafraid even in close combat, leaving no room for soldiers to fear or flee."

"Fourth, coordinating matchlocks with melee troops requires a complex system and numerous tactics. However, with Flintlock Guns and bayonets, the troop type is unified, and the tactics are far simpler. The quality required of the musketeers themselves would be greatly reduced. Moreover, once the command structure is unified, even if officers are separated from their troops, the combat effectiveness of the Musketeer Corps will not be affected, ensuring the high command maintained a firm grip on military authority."

"And the last, most important point: In the era of matchlock guns, coordinating musketeers with melee infantry was extremely difficult to train. It was normal to spend two or three years building a qualified team. But with Flintlock Guns and Sleeve Bayonets, tactics are few and variations are limited. Even an illiterate peasant could be battlefield-ready within a few months of mastering formation drills. This allows for rapid troop mobilization, enabling a nation's human resources to be continuously converted into war potential. Once war breaks out, reinforcements of a million could be mobilized at any time!"

This new type of warfare, to describe it using a military maxim Byron had encountered in his past life, was: "The brave must not rush ahead, the timid must not lag behind. Let the dense spears thrust and withdraw, let the wild blades slash and be met in kind. When all surge forward as one, there is no room to turn or move; how then can any dart left or right?"

In his previous life, whenever he watched foreign films depicting large-scale battles, he was always baffled. How could they fight without any formations, just a chaotic melee where whoever killed the other side first was the victor? Was that warfare, or a massive brawl? Without correspondingly advanced organizational power, how could one possibly fight the grand battles involving millions described in their history books? In legionary warfare in a Low Magic World, what room was there for so-called experts to display their prowess?

Only when personnel, equipment, and tactics were perfectly matched could the true dominance of the "Way of the Masses" be unleashed.

Just like with this training model pioneered by Byron, one could easily form an army by simply gathering criminals, bankrupt individuals, and vagrants, without fundamentally affecting combat strength. If such a Guardsmen unit, essentially a Musketeer Corps, were also equipped with Aztec Skull Gold Coins, they would truly become the 'Wings of Death'!

So what if it's lining up to be shot? Come now, we'll die first as a token of respect; the rest of you may do as you please.

"KILL—!"

At this moment, exploding heads thrown by the headhunters at close range were suddenly blown away by a fierce gust of wind conjured by a Hawk Spirit Warrior. Then, those few natives crashed headlong into a literal 'forest of guns and rain of bullets.' Wave after wave, their sorcerous means might block one shot, but not ten, not a hundred. In the blink of an eye, they were riddled like sieves.

One native, with the most elaborate headdress, presumably their leader, watched Alfred, 'Blood-Red Whiskey', casually walk up to him. There wasn't much fear of death on his face, only a difficult request:

"Outsider, when you eat me... when you eat me, I... I hope you will follow our tradition and eat... eat my entrails raw. So my soul may ascend."

The language used on the island belonged to the same linguistic family as the Taya language, and the native Pirates from Taya City-State could barely understand him. One immediately stepped forward to translate. Just as the intelligence reports indicated, the headhunting tribe here not only hunted heads but also practiced cannibalism. There were no cemeteries on any of the nearby islands because they ate not only their enemies but also their deceased relatives. Enemies grant strength, while relatives remain with oneself!

Hearing his request, the Hawk Spirit Warrior from Taya City-State, acting as translator, hastily waved his hands.

"No, no, no, we're at war, understand? In the last war between the two overlords of the Bantaan Archipelago, thousands died in a single battle."

The headhunter chief clearly didn't understand his words.

"You... can you eat that many people in one meal? Or are you picky eaters, only consuming the entrails?"

The Hawk Spirit Warrior couldn't help but correct him further.

"We are not savages like you. We only wage war, or at most, offer sacrifices. We don't eat humans."

Hearing this, the headhunter chief's eyes widened in disbelief. Full of grief and indignation, he cried:

"Not eat?!! Are you killing just for sport? You people are too barbaric! *Gurgle*..."

Realizing his death was utterly worthless, he couldn't draw his next breath and choked to death on the spot from sheer rage.

Alfred waved his hand, "Don't let any of the bodies on the ground go to waste. Collect all those who have been dead for less than an hour."

Others may not eat them, but our Bloodthirsty Cult will.

"Yes, Captain," the pirate officers replied.

The few Pirate officers whose eyes glinted with green light stepped forward. They extended their left hands, upon which the insignia of the Holy Grail of Blood was clearly visible. A bloody light bloomed, transforming all the fresh corpses on the ground into top-quality Blood of Metamorphosis.

Now that Alfred had latched onto the great tree that was the Pioneer Guiding Colonial Trading Company, and had even become a Knight of King Byron's Right Hand, he had the capital to establish himself. He could even see the hope of defeating the Book of Giant Insects Faction and reclaiming the Bloodthirsty Cult. Naturally, he reabsorbed those defeated dogs of the Bloody Mary Faction into his own team, rapidly promoting them to pirate officers using the Captain 721 Fission Mode.

"Captain, we've found the skull."

Soon, the assassins, from the Temple piled high with shriveled heads, found the #12 Crystal Skull, 'Polaris God,' which Byron had specifically requested. It was delivered into Alfred's hands.

Thanks to the proper application of tactics and the overwhelming advantage of their flintlock formation training method, their contingent had suffered virtually no fatalities. They returned fully laden with spoils.

However, their good fortune seemed to run out there.

Just as the group arrived at the seashore with their loot, they suddenly spotted another outsider's warship entering these waters. Moreover, it was heading towards them at high speed. Its exaggerated red, yellow, and white paint scheme made it easy to identify the other party even from over a dozen nautical miles away.

It was none other than the Fourth-rate Ship, the 'Circus'—the flagship of 'Bone-Eating Clown' Koraskin, who had come to these waters in pursuit of the treasures of Silvergold Island!