The Rich Cultivator

In the sea...

The Clown stood at the bow of his flamboyantly decorated ship—a chaotic mess of rainbow stripes, oversized gears, and grinning puppets hanging from the sails. Arms spread wide, coat flapping in the salty wind, he stood like a performer before his final act. His mismatched eye lenses, one yellow and the other a cracked glass orb, scanned the horizon with eerie precision.

Then he got a feedback from all the Jack-in-the-boxes in the sea, a barely-there outline of a ship cloaked in concealment array, fighting to remain unseen.

His cracked smile widened.

"F.O.U.N.D youuuuuuuu," he whispered, dragging the word out like a twisted melody.

In response, the Jack-in-the-boxes surrounding him burst into cackling laughter, their spring-loaded heads bobbing wildly in agreement.

---

"Mode Shadow?" Mathilda asked from the deck of the White Pearl, her eyes locked on the incoming ship.

"Nope. Let’s not waste that just yet," Lily replied, already moving toward the helm. "We still have the ’Waypoint Emergency Escape.’ And since this is just the White Pearl, we don’t need to reveal our another identity. Yet."

Mathilda glanced at her, then at the approaching madness in the sea. "So... How do we escape from this personal visit of that lunatic?"

Lily sighed and stepped onto the main deck, raising her voice loud enough to be heard across the water. "What do we owe the pleasure, Clown?"

The Clown didn’t hesitate. He tilted his head, a maniacal glint in his eyes, and spoke while bouncing in place, "You have the remnant aura of my Pinkie. You... you’re the one who killed it?"

"Pinkie?" Lily asked, confused.

"That was our pirate crew’s pet," replied the Juggler, his expression solemn. "The twin-headed sea serpent."

"Oh... that." Lily shrugged. "It attacked us. So we attacked back."

The Clown burst into laughter again, louder this time, and whipped out a strange-looking device from his belt. It was shaped like a gun, but unfortunately, it looked disturbingly like something else.

"Eww... Is that supposed to be a p—" Lily started, her face contorted in disgust.

"No!" the Clown interrupted defensively. "Even a mushroom can look like that if you squint!"

Mathilda returned from the lower deck, where she had been issuing orders. She stopped mid-step. "Eww, is that what I think it is? Does it impreg–"

"Can we not call it that?" the Clown groaned. "It’s my new invention! And no, it doesn’t impregnate anything. It doesn’t shoot white liquid either!"

He waved the device in the air like a trophy, clearly proud—and equally oblivious.

"That alone shouldn’t be legal," Mathilda muttered, squinting. "Thankfully we don’t have kids on board."

Lily narrowed her eyes. She sensed it now. The Clown was more eager to talk than fight. His mental state was fractured, scattered like glass. She could use that.

"Look," Lily said, pointing at the weapon. "Even if it’s a laser gun or whatever... showing it to everyone, That’s just public indecency."

"N-no."

"Why did you have to make it veiny?" Lily asked.

"Eww... " Mathilda said that.

"They’re wires!" the Clown snapped, nearly whining.

"Why does it have... balls?" Mathilda asked, horrified.

"Eww..." This time the Juggler said that, he got glared by his captain in return.

"Those are ammo sacs!" the Clown defended. "With fur."

"Why fur?!" Lily asked, genuinely disturbed.

"It’s... trendy..." the Clown replied quietly.

"Eww," muttered one of the Jack-in-the-boxes.

"I heard it was trendy!" the Clown shouted.

"On a jacket, not on a pe—"

"STOP. Saying. That. Word!" The Clown snapped, then held out the weapon. "Here! Just take it! It’s a good invention!"

"I’m not touching that," Lily said flatly.

She summoned her whip with a flick of her hand and caught the weapon midair, then expertly flung it back like a frisbee. The Clown caught it reflexively... then looked at it with sudden loathing.

Though Lily’s whip destroyed from previous battle. She already made many copies with the Copper Pot.

The Clown looked dejected. He dropped it on the ground and stomped on it.

"Aaann..." A unified groan echoed across both ships. Every man instinctively shielded their crotch. Even the Clown winced.

"W-wait a minute," he muttered, eyes widening. "You sneaky rascal... I came here to avenge my serpent, not destroy my other snake!"

He turned and glared at the White Pearl, his clownish bravado temporarily deflated.

The Juggler exhaled, grateful. It wasn’t that he didn’t notice the nonsense... it’s just that he didn’t dare interrupt the Clown’s babbling. Few who did lived to tell the tale.

Meanwhile, Tuman walked up to Lily and Mathilda.

"We’re all set," he said calmly.

Lily gave a sharp nod. "Attack."

At her command, the runes on the side of the White Pearl lit up. Several large, rune-engraved canons slid out from hidden compartments along the hull.

With a loud FWOOOSH, torrents of water, pressurized to extreme force by array cores, exploded from the barrels, blasting toward the Circus Ship in spiraling arcs. freёweɓnovel.com

The Clown’s eyes widened, then narrowed in glee.

"Oh-hoho! So it’s gonna be that kind of party!"

He snapped his fingers, and several flying drones in the shape of toy monkeys launched into the air, flinging confetti bombs in all directions. Behind him, the crew scrambled as they prepared the defense.

The White Pearl rocked slightly as it prepared for another volley.

"Mathilda, prepare to escape." Lily ordered, "Tuman attack again."

┉┈ ◈ ◉ ◈ ┈┉

Meanwhile, inside the Circus’ Game Arena...

Tyler hovered silently above the massive tank of water. The liquid below, once clear, was now completely dyed crimson. Blood swirled like ink in a painter’s palette, yet none of it clung to Tyler. His clothes and body were spotless—as if the violence that just occurred had never touched him.

Across the arena, the Ring Master clapped slowly, his pale hands echoing through the cold metal chamber. "Impressive. I didn’t expect you to have such... aptitude in water. You were almost invincible in the water."

With another clap, the tank beneath Tyler shuddered. Metal plates slid over the arena floor, covering the tank and then it removed again replacing it with a dry platform. The noise of shifting gears was deafening.

When the floor finally settled, a new horror emerged—dozens of slaves stood below, shackled and bruised, their eyes filled with dread and exhaustion. Men, women, even children. The metallic scent of blood was replaced by the foul air of fear.

"This time," the Ring Master announced with a twisted grin, "let’s play a more entertaining game."

He extended his hand toward the hovering duo.

"These people below you? They are desperate. Hollow. Ready to do anything for a sliver of hope." He gestured upward. "I will now give two keys. These keys can unlock their collars—and grant freedom. However... each key only works once. Only two lives can be saved."

Two glowing orbs materialized between Tyler and Mana, each containing a shining silver key. The light from the keys reflected in the eyes of the slaves below like the gleam of a dying star.

Tyler’s sharp gaze analyzed the orbs. "They’re rigged," he muttered to Mana. "Self-destruct mechanisms after single use."

Mana nodded.

The Ring Master’s voice boomed again, now filled with perverse excitement. "Now, my dear slaves, go ahead. Beg them. Bargain with them. Kill them if you must. Do anything it takes. This is your chance to reclaim your freedom."

A few heartbeats of silence followed. Then the chaos began.

One man stumbled forward, kneeling on the ground. "Please! Just save my daughter. She’s only eight... you don’t understand how horrible it is for a girl to grow up in slavery!"

Another voice snarled, "Shut up, daughtercon! You think your brat’s life is more important than mine? I’ve been here for ten years! Help me instead!"

"No! Save me! I’m pregnant—"

"Save my brother! He’s just a boy!"

The desperation took over. Voices rose like waves in a storm, each plea more desperate than the last. The slaves began shoving, yelling, arguing. The line between pleading and fighting started to blur.

Tyler hovered silently. His expression was unreadable.

After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice calm and cold.

"I’ll think about it. Give me some time."

The slaves froze. Their eyes shifted toward one another with mistrust. Nobody dared to move. Nobody wanted to seem too eager—or too weak.

Above them, the Ring Master narrowed his eyes.

Tyler pulled something from his coat—a palm-sized house. With a flick of his wrist, Tyler tossed it downward.

It hit the ground and expanded in a flash of light, unfolding and growing into a small house. In mere seconds, a cozy, fully furnished structure stood in the middle of the arena floor, its glowing arrays still humming softly.

Tyler and Mana landed silently and walked inside without a word.

The Ring Master blinked, momentarily speechless. He tried to peer into the house with his divine sense—but it was blocked. He couldn’t see inside.

"Hmph... so he’s stalling?" he muttered. "Trying to buy time? Or maybe planning something?"

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. Unlike the Clown, who acted with manic impulsiveness, the Ring Master prided himself on patience.

In his eyes, Tyler’s fate was already sealed the moment the Clown targeted him.