Chapter 71: The Clash of Two Armies

The vanguard that "attacked" the Kreek stronghold was neither the knight Garen, who led the charge, nor the laborers who took up arms in revolt, but rather the motley crew of Kreek's pirate gang. The fleeing crowd, which began as hundreds at the dock, swelled to over a thousand as it moved through the town. By the time they reached the front of Kreek’s mansion, the mob had grown to more than two thousand. Such a chaotic force was powerful and terrifying; had it not been for the elite First Combat Squad stationed outside as the final line of defense, Kreek’s beloved "palace" would have long since been trampled to dust by these refugees.

The captain of the First Combat Squad, Kreek's loyal hound known as "Demon Jin," responded early and was now straining his voice in a desperate attempt to halt the surging crowd. Yet the situation was utterly out of control, and Jin’s efforts were almost fruitless. Those at the front wished to stop, but the pirates in the rear, unaware of the danger, pressed forward, driving the mob relentlessly toward Kreek’s mansion. Any hesitation in the march risked being crushed to death by frenzied comrades. Countless voices within the crowd fueled panic. What began as a call to "return and seek Kreek's aid" had twisted into the terrifying rumor that "Kreek has been slain by the knight of justice." Such rumors spread like wildfire, unsettling even the First Combat Squad tasked with holding back the tide.

A rout of this magnitude, in the era of cold steel on Earth, would have been an unstoppable, disastrous event, spelling defeat for the losing side. But this world was inhabited by extraordinary beings. To quell a crowd that had lost all reason and descended into madness, two things were required: strength and ruthlessness.

Demon Jin was formidable, but his loyalty made him hesitant to use force against his fellow pirates. Kreek, however, cared nothing for such scruples; he was ruthless to the core. It was this coldness that led him to make the correct decision as a leader. Before Vivi’s shocked gaze, Kreek lifted his massive war spear high, gathered his strength, and hurled the one-ton weapon into the most crowded section of the mob.

The spear, driven by immense force, landed and, like a skewer, plowed through several pirates, carving a wide gap in the throng. Those nearby, stunned by the blood and carnage, were instantly immobilized, forcibly calmed by the violence. Kreek leapt into the crowd, drew his spear from the heap of corpses, and, without hesitation, charged into another restless pocket. His weapon swept through, leaving a trail of severed limbs and broken bodies.

“I am Kreek! Stop immediately!” Kreek, brandishing his blood-soaked spear, roared furiously at his rioting subordinates, “Who gave you the courage to assault my mansion!”

With two blood-soaked zones serving as grim anchors, the mad crowd finally began to settle. “We—we didn’t come to attack you…” trembled a pirate minion beside Kreek, “Someone’s chasing us from behind!”

“Chasing you?” Kreek was beside himself with rage.

“So many of you, and you flee your own stronghold without a fight?!” Kreek spat.

“He’s really strong!” another pirate stammered, “He is—”

Before the minion could finish, Kreek smashed his spear into the ground, leaving a deep crater. “I don’t care who he is! Anyone who dares make trouble in Kreek’s domain will die without a grave!”

No sooner had Kreek uttered his threats than another wave of thunderous shouts rolled in from the distance, as powerful as the last. Standing atop his fallen subordinates, Kreek scanned the horizon. Another group of armed insurgents surged forward like a tidal wave. This time, they were clearly laborers: their clothing ragged, their emotions heightened, their resolve unified and strong. Unlike the previous mob’s chaotic rush, these men halted at the line between the two forces, disciplined as if obeying command.

For this group had a leader—a hero at their head: the knight of justice, Garen.

He stood eight feet tall, his bones sturdy and sinews taut. He wore a suit of radiant gold-and-white armor set with frost and jade, wielding a broad-bladed storm sword forged through countless trials. He was truly imposing, handsome, and awe-inspiring.

Kreek, clad in his own flashy golden quilted armor, had a startling first thought upon seeing Garen: This guy’s gear is even flashier than mine?

Kreek, vain by nature, had gone so far as to gold-plate his armor, but now he was thoroughly outshone by Garen. His gaze then moved to the laborers behind Garen, and his heart twisted again—the workers were his own assets, and their weapons appeared to be high-grade goods he himself had just purchased.

Kreek’s anger flared to dizzying heights. “Damn it! How dare you cause havoc in my domain!” He pointed at Garen, who stood between the two armies, and bellowed, “Who are you?!”

Garen stared back at Kreek atop the corpses, then slowly raised his great sword before his chest. “Garen.”

“Garen?” Kreek found the name unfamiliar and scoffed, “Just another nobody! You dare challenge me, Kreek, ruler of the East Sea?! I’ll make sure you never return!”

Shield in his left hand and war spear in his right, Kreek’s eyes narrowed as he prepared to charge at Garen. Ordinarily, Kreek preferred to wear down opponents by sacrificing minions. But today, before the battle truly began, his minions had already suffered heavy losses from suppressing riots and trampling accidents.

Such immense losses pained even Kreek.

So, Kreek resolved to handle this personally, to meet the challenger head-on in a battle of leaders.

Yet before he could set out, the pirate minion who hadn’t finished speaking earlier urgently called out, “Master Kreek! That guy isn’t a nobody! He’s the knight of justice from the newspapers!”

Kreek’s stride faltered. He forced himself to turn and asked in a low voice, “Which knight of justice?”

The pirate’s face was pale with terror. “The one who stood toe-to-toe with Navy hero Garp—the famed swordmaster!”

Kreek’s expression collapsed, his body trembling, nearly dropping to the ground on the spot. He searched his memory for the name “Garen,” and it matched the knight featured in recent newspaper reports about the East Sea.

Cold sweat beaded on Kreek’s brow as he looked at Garen with growing apprehension. Instinctively, he feared the man. But as the leader of the pirate crew, Kreek knew he could not show weakness, or his fate would be sealed.

“Brothers!” Kreek, face twisted with anxiety, shouted to his pirate minions, “Don’t panic! Let’s all rush him together!”

The pirates hesitated, looking uncertainly at the formidable Garen ahead and the sinister Kreek behind, caught between two perils.

But Garen reacted swiftly. He turned to the laborers who had followed him and said, “You all stay to the side and observe strategically; join the fight only when I give the order!”

“Uh?” The blood-boiling laborers were momentarily stunned. They’d expected to fight alongside Garen, but his command was clear, leaving them conflicted.

After giving the order, Garen hurriedly raised his sword and charged single-handedly into Kreek’s ranks. As he did, he called out to the wavering pirates:

“Don’t just stand there! Listen to your boss!”