The unique feat of [Lightning Reflexes] primarily served to enhance William's potential. His reaction speed was already incredibly fast, though not yet faster than a bullet. Even if his reflexes were trained to surpass that of a bullet, achieving a body movement speed comparable to a bullet would require substantial physical training.
But who said dodging bullets meant being faster than them?
From the moment the pirate leader pulled the trigger, to the spring triggering the flint, and the flint striking the pan to spark and ignite the gunpowder—all this happened in an instant. However, to William, this fleeting moment felt long enough for him to dodge.
Time seemed to slow. The pirate leader's trigger pull appeared in slow motion, while William's pupils shifted slightly. Observing the direction of the barrel, he tilted his head minimally to evade.
Time resumed its normal pace.
Bang!
Crack!
The first sound was the bullet leaving the chamber with a pop, and the second was the crisp impact of the bullet missing William, grazing past his ear, and striking the wooden wall.
William wasn't faster than the bullet, but Sherlock, the pirate leader, and their lackeys couldn't discern that. To their eyes, William's reaction seemed faster than the bullet itself!
Sherlock's jaw dropped in shock, and the pirate leader's eyes widened in terror. By the time they reacted, William had already closed the distance between himself and the leader.
William's boots thudded heavily on the wooden floor, accompanied by immense force. His curved blade effortlessly pierced the pirate leader's fragile skin and muscles, plunging through his left chest and exiting the other side.
Without halting, William continued to push forward, driving the screaming pirate leader until he pinned him to the wall with a forceful yell, lifting the man off the ground.
"Wait! Don't kill him!" Sherlock's shaky voice finally broke the silence.
William released the hilt, his gaze shifting from the lifeless pirate leader to Sherlock. With a casual smile—though smeared with blood—he replied in a relaxed tone that contrasted sharply with the carnage of the room: "You spoke too late."
Sherlock smiled bitterly. "You acted too fast."
He extended his hand. "I'm Sherlock."
"William. Nice to meet you." William also extended his hand for a brief handshake.
"Memorable," Sherlock remarked, glancing at the room littered with corpses.
William's swift actions had left the pirates no chance to use Sherlock as a hostage. Instead, they joined their leader on the path to the afterlife.
Walking toward the body of a scarred pirate officer, William spoke: "I imagine this is what you were hoping for. Money alone makes you an easy target in these waters. Calling me here wasn't just to test if I'm as skilled as Tony claimed but to see if I can safeguard future business ventures, right?"
"So, do you agree to work with me now?" As William spoke, he bent down to retrieve a flintlock pistol from the fallen officer, one the man hadn't had the chance to use.
While inspecting the weapon for ammunition, a foul stench hit his nose. Glancing over, he noticed it came from the pirate lackey he had disarmed earlier.
The man, feigning death, trembled uncontrollably. He had escaped death by fortune but, seeing William handle the gun, assumed he'd been discovered. The precision of William's earlier movements and his seemingly bullet-dodging reflexes had utterly terrified him. In his fear, he wet himself.
William nudged him lightly with his foot and said calmly, "If you don't want to die, block the door for me."
Meanwhile, Sherlock smirked. "I suppose, considering you came here alone and unarmed as you claimed, and we're both still alive, the answer to my question is obvious."
The gunshot from earlier had alerted the rest of the pirates. The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway as they approached the captain's quarters. Yet William seemed unbothered.
As the frightened lackey scrambled to block the door, William walked to the room's only small window.
Under the confused gazes of Sherlock and the lackey, William broke the window, raised the pistol, and fired randomly outside.
The sharp crack of the gunshot echoed far across the open sea. William casually tossed the now-empty pistol onto the table and smiled at Sherlock. "That settles it. Let's not waste time. Since we've agreed to work together, let's discuss the next step, particularly the most important question—who will take the lead in this venture?"
"Here?" Sherlock, holding a scented handkerchief to his nose, frowned in disgust.
"Why not?" William smirked nonchalantly. He intended to negotiate in this blood-stained room.
Business negotiations were battlefields, where every tool and tactic could be weaponized. In the world of trade, strength extended beyond mere wealth. It also required a show of power to protect those investments.
In stable societies, this strength often came from governments, policies, and assurances against arbitrary losses.
In this chaotic world, however, strength also meant the ability to deter and combat pirates. Without capable hands or military force, conducting business on the seas risked disaster.
By negotiating here, William made a statement—just as showing off portraits of government officials might signal authority, the corpse pinned to the wall spoke volumes about his strength.
The commotion outside grew louder, with faint battle cries drifting in through the broken window.
"Fine," Sherlock conceded. Though bold in business, he lacked William's experience as a battle-hardened pirate. Resisting his discomfort, Sherlock spoke through his handkerchief, "Your idea has merit. However, I will handle the most critical and risky aspects, from transporting goods to establishing a sales network from scratch. So, as for leadership…"
Sherlock's words were interrupted by the sound of fighting just outside the door, making him glance nervously toward it.
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