The Rich Cultivator-Chapter 376 - 375. and . A small break in a small Island (2 in 1 Chapter)

Chapter 376: 375. and 376. A small break in a small Island (2 in 1 Chapter)

After half a month of sailing across unpredictable waters, the White Pearl had finally dropped anchor near a small, lush island. The salty sea breeze carried the scent of tropical flowers and fresh herbs growing wild along the shore. Palm trees danced in the wind while seagulls circled lazily overhead.

Standing on the island’s simple wooden dock was an old man with rat-like ears and wiry whiskers, dressed in a patched vest and loose trousers. He eyed the majestic ship with both admiration and caution. Behind him stood a few islanders—young men and women with wolf ears, rabbit tails, and alert eyes. They looked strong, well-fed, and battle-hardened despite their rural surroundings.

"You’d better go around," the old man warned, tapping his walking stick against the dock for emphasis. "These water routes up ahead—dangerous for a merchant ship like yours. Especially a fancy one. Pirates call ships like that ’fat sheep.’ Easy prey."

"It is dangerous," Darla agreed with a casual shrug, brushing her silvery hair back and adjusting the scabbard at her hip. "But don’t worry. Our ship bites back."

The old man narrowed his eyes slightly, unsure whether to be reassured or more worried.

"Well," he muttered after a moment, "if you’re recruiting, we’ve got some young blood around here who might be interested in leaving the island. Can’t promise they’re tame, though."

He gestured behind him at the group of young villagers. Some had rabbit ears that twitched nervously. Others bore the sharp eyes and shaggy ears of wolfkin. They all stood tall and proud, weapons slung across their backs or resting at their sides. Judging by their auras, most had reached the Elite level.

"Huh..." Darla placed a hand on her hip. "Our Captain did say we should start recruiting. But there’s a catch: anyone who joins our crew has to sign a soul contract."

At her words, the group shifted. A few young women took a cautious step back. One of the wolf-eared men furrowed his brow.

Darla raised a hand in reassurance. "Relax. It’s not a slave contract. It just binds your loyalty to the crew and sets some ground rules. Even our slaves live decent lives. Privacy policies, medical care, etc., etc.,."

The old man scratched his chin thoughtfully. After a brief huddle and some murmuring among the villagers, he turned back with a nod. "They’ll do it. But I expect you to keep your word, girl."

"I will," Darla said, smiling as she pulled out a parchment glowing faintly with runes. "We’ll make it official. You can read these."

These Soul Contracts are high level soul contracts made by Mages from the Starfire Academy.

The rules can be written anytime, but once it is written, it will bind with the contract.

While the young recruits took turns reading the contract, Darla’s attention drifted to the island itself. Something about this peaceful place in the middle of pirate-infested waters didn’t sit right with her.

"If you folks are so close to danger," she said, folding her arms, "how come your village hasn’t been plundered already? I don’t see many guards or defensive arrays."

The old man chuckled dryly. "We’re under protection. This island belongs to the Circus."

Darla raised an eyebrow. "The Circus?"

He pointed to a tall, weathered flagpole standing at the island’s center. Flapping in the wind was a tattered flag bearing the image of a grinning skull wearing a clown hat.

"That’s their sigil," the old man said. "They run things from Fun Streak Island, a few days south of here. We pay tribute in the form of fish, pearls, and rare herbs. In return, they make sure no one else messes with us."

Darla tilted her head, studying the flag. "I’ve heard of the Circus. They’re more than pirates, aren’t they? Rumors say they run entire islands like amusement parks... but with blood and madness underneath."

"They call themselves entertainers" the old man replied grimly. "And the leaders of Fun Streak Island. Most don’t dare cross them. He is mentally ill, no one knows what will he do."

Darla whistled. "So, where exactly is this Fun Streak Island?"

"South-southeast," one of the newly signed recruits answered. A rabbit-eared girl, no older than twenty, stepped forward. "You’ll know you’re close when the sea starts turning pink at dawn and music plays from the fog. That’s the edge of their territory."

"Pink seas and music?" Darla repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"It’s enchanted. It’s actually an Open Island for Merchants and Pirates. But for Federation and other organisations that hates pirates they are nightmare Arrays."

Darla rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Sounds like a hard place to sneak in for other organisations."

The old man gave her a look. "You thinking of heading there?"

"Who Knows" Darla said. "It’s our Captain’s wish."

She looked back toward the White Pearl. Mana is unloading some goods and selling them to the Islanders.

Darla turned back to the recruits. "Pack lightly. We leave in evening. Say your goodbyes if you’ve got any family left here."

After the new recruits had departed to pack their belongings and say their goodbyes, a calm silence settled over the dock. The soft lapping of waves against the wooden posts filled the air as the scent of brine and blooming island flowers mingled in the breeze.

The old man remained behind, his tired eyes following the young villagers as they disappeared down a winding path toward the village square. Then he turned back to Darla with a thoughtful expression, his long whiskers twitching slightly.

"If you’re serious about visiting Fun Streak Island," he said slowly, "you’ll need something to show you’re not an enemy. The Circus doesn’t take kindly to uninvited guests."

He reached into a conch-shaped storage artifact hanging from his belt and carefully pulled out a small, polished wooden box. The box was unassuming—no lock, no carvings—but it pulsed faintly with a magical aura.

Opening it, the old man retrieved a single playing card and handed it to her with both hands.

"This is like a recommendation card. All of them Islands under Fun Streak Island gets one."

Darla took it with curiosity. The card was a regular playing card—or so it seemed at first glance. It was the Seven of Diamonds, but the ink shimmered faintly under the sunlight, and the card felt heavier than paper. As she turned it in her fingers, the surface gleamed with runes just beneath the surface.

"This card proves you’ve been acknowledged by someone who’s in neutral or friendly standing with the Circus," the old man explained. "It doesn’t make you one of them—but it might stop you from being killed on sight."

He gave her a tired, yet sincere smile. "Still, tread carefully. The Circus are pirates. Dangerous, chaotic, unpredictable."

Darla bowed respectfully. "Thank you..."

Then, slipping the card into her inner coat pocket, she turned and began her walk back to the White Pearl, the wind tugging playfully at her cloak.

"Wow... wow... Look how high our Darla has grown up," Mana said teasingly. She is just watching the crew setting up some temporary stalls in the market to sell things.

"Our little chef is now a full-blown ambassador!"

Darla rolled her eyes with a smirk but didn’t bother to respond to the jab.

It was true, though. Darla had naturally taken on the responsibility of being the White Pearl’s representative whenever they arrived at foreign ports or islands. No one assigned it, but no one objected it.

"Someone has to handle things with grace," Darla replied with a wink. fгeewebnovёl.com

She then opened a small box she carried and pulled out several handmade cookbooks— recipe collections written by her and Taka.

The two walked side by side toward the market stalls set up near the docks. Darla gave the books to the crew members to sell it. If people get interested in those recipes, they will automatically buy ingredients from the ship.

Meanwhile, deep inside the ship’s pocket dimension—a spacious lab filled with glowing instruments, alchemical equipment, and stacks of scribbled research notes—Tyler stood with arms crossed, staring blankly at a floating screen showing charts of crew activity.

"Why am I getting less screen time lately?" he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with mock frustration.

From across the room, Mathilda, who was hunched over a microscope inspecting a strand of seaweed, paused. "What?" she asked without looking up, adjusting the focus knob.

"I mean..." Tyler walked over and leaned on the table beside her, "I barely get to leave the ship. Even when we dock at interesting islands, I stay in the lab or the captain’s quarters. It’s like I’ve been reduced to a background character."

Mathilda finally looked up from her microscope and gave him a half-lidded stare. "Well, no one’s stopping you, Captain. You’ve got legs. Use them."

Tyler sighed. "Yeah, but I’m getting complaints that someone has been using our crew members as lab rats."

"Hehe..." Mathilda laughed nervously, slowly swiveling her chair to turn her back toward him. "That sounds like a wild accusation."

Tyler squinted. "Mathilda."

"Look," she began defensively, still not facing him, "if someone volunteers for experimental potions, or minor mutations in exchange for rare resources, that’s their choice."

"Minor mutations?"

"Barely noticeable," she said quickly, waving her hand dismissively. "A third eyebrow here, a glowing fingertip there. Nothing a little illusion spell can’t cover. "

Tyler dragged a hand down his face. "Just... please don’t explode anyone. Again. Also what’s with self exploding potions? How did you even come up with it?"

"That was one time! And they got better! That potion might be useful. It can make all Aura and Prana in an Immortal Practitioner go crazy and Boom"

"I don’t see any useful component in this self exploding potions." Tyler shook his head, narrowing his eyes at the faintly glowing liquid in the cup. " What exactly is this tea?"

Without waiting for an answer, he brought it to his lips and took a sip.

Mathilda blinked in horror. "No... That’s an aphrodisiac."

Tyler froze mid-gulp. His eyes widened as he slowly lowered the cup. "You what?"

Mathilda let out a nervous chuckle and rubbed the back of her head. "Yeah... I meant to label it."

Tyler stared at the tea cup in his hand like it had betrayed him. "Why the hell would you leave something like this in a regular tea cup?"

"I was going to offer it to Su Fei casually," Mathilda explained, clearly unashamed. "Then lead her down here while she’s a little... impressionable. Ahh... that Vixen is all in my mind."

Tyler looked at her like she’d grown a second head. "Mathilda, even if—if—that worked, Su Fei would look for a man to vent. You’d have a better chance turning into a unicorn than turning her preferences."

"I know, I know," Mathilda said with a sigh. "But I added a few drops of my Love Nectar into it. There’s a small chance it would bind her attraction to me biologically. You know, make her see me as irresistibly alluring."

Tyler, who had been in the middle of setting the cup down, paused.

There was a brief silence.

Then he slowly raised the cup again and drained it in one long swig.

Mathilda’s mouth twitched with a mix of resignation and mischief.

With a sigh, she pushed the equipment aside on the table, the clinking of glass echoing faintly in the lab.

Then, without a word, she lay down on the cleared surface like a lamb awaiting the butcher’s blade—dramatic and utterly unbothered.

She removed her panties where it is already drenched with some of her Nectar and threw it. Then she made an inviting gesture with her toes towards Tyler who is already walking towards her with his Knife unsheathed ready to slaughter the ’lamb’.