British hegemon

Chapter 32 Young Master's Hands Are Really Ruthless

The rising sun cast a long, slanted shadow of the mill over the sea, while the sounds of roosters crowing and dogs barking echoed from the nearby village of Locklanza.

After a brief battle and a night of commotion, the abandoned mill returned to peace.

A dozen or so naked corpses were carried to the open space outside the mill and lined up in a row, like salted fish that had turned belly up on the beach and were covered with coarse salt, waiting to be dried in the sun. The scene was both familiar and eerie.

Most of the "bandit suppression" warriors, who had been tormented by fear and excitement all night, finally couldn't hold on any longer. After simply munching on some hard bread taken from the backs of the horses and mules, they casually spread out a layer of straw in the still blood-stained mill and fell asleep fully clothed, their snores filling the air.

Old Joey, Blackie, and two hunters, armed with short spears and hunting bows, strode around the mill as lookouts.

By this time, all the pirates had been killed, and Old Joey and his companions were now on guard against the villagers who had come from Locklandza Village to watch the spectacle.

The villagers heard the commotion from the abandoned mill last night, but the pirates were usually brutal and would often come to the village to bully the common people, so no one dared to go out at night.

It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that two or three villagers who had connections with the pirates mustered up the courage to sneak over and observe from a distance, but Roger sent his men to drive them away.

As the sun rose, a dozen or so figures began to wander between the mill and the village. They were eager to see if they could find something to gain, but the villagers hesitated because of the several "burly men" with weapons and fierce expressions.

Beside the drying ground outside the mill, an abandoned, dilapidated oxcart lay overturned in the weeds. An old man, a young boy, and two strong men, four pirates stripped of their armor, were bound hand to hand to the wooden frame of the oxcart, not much better off than the corpses of salted fish drying nearby.

The bald man and the ponytail man, armed with crossbows and short spears, guarded the four men, especially the two young men, though they were unlikely to escape.

Roger, who hadn't slept all night, still felt full of energy. He put his right hand into a salt bag and stirred it a few times, getting his fingers covered in fine salt. Then he slowly took it out and gently extended it toward the no-longer-bleeding wound on the chest of a pirate on the ground.

With a gentle probe of salt-dipped fingers into the gash, the young pirate, who had fainted from blood loss, was instantly jolted awake by the pain. Veins bulged on his forehead, and he kicked the ground repeatedly, breaking through several layers of turf. He let out a muffled wail, bloody saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth, and tears streaming down his pale cheeks.

"Bastard, devil, bastard, come at me if you dare, come at me!"

Beside the struggling pirate, another pirate, his hands and feet tightly bound, cursed at Roger, who was enjoying the torture. Blood seeped from the thickly bandaged wound on the inside of his thigh.

Roger turned to look at the third pirate leader, who was shouting hoarsely. "Olav, I'll say it again. Just tell me where the gold and silver treasures are hidden, and I'll give him a quick death."

After a night of sweeping, the "bandit suppression army" looted a considerable amount of weapons, armor, wool, fur, and other plundered goods from the mill's lair and the pirate ship.

However, there was not much gold and silver. Apart from the few pieces that the "warriors" had secretly hoarded in the chaos, the total value of all kinds of currency and gold and silver items was only seven or eight pounds. Perhaps a few bags of wool and some loose leather cloth could be exchanged for a few pounds.

This group of pirates has been causing havoc for many years, and their numbers are far greater than this.

He had just interrogated that ruthless pirate to the point of near death, and he only managed to reveal the other three temporary hideouts of this pirate group. He didn't know which hideout might contain treasure, and Roger couldn't possibly search them all. Perhaps none of those hideouts were the pirates' treasure locations.

Therefore, he could only hope that the third pirate leader could provide some useful information.

But he had heard from the man with the ponytail that this third leader was not a vicious pirate. Born into a minor noble family, he had the chivalrous spirit of a knight, and torture might not be very effective against him.

Roger naturally had other methods for dealing with chivalrous people, so he tortured his trusted subordinates in front of the three leaders. Perhaps letting them watch their trusted subordinates being tortured was more effective than directly torturing them.

"Don't tell me I don't know where the sea wolf hid the gold and silver. Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. You're a monster, and if I told you now, you would definitely kill us all to keep all that wealth for yourself." The three leaders instinctively distrusted the perverted monster in front of them.

Roger gave a kind smile. "You've misunderstood me. They all call me Roger the Devil, and that's true. My enemies all think I'm a devil. But if you stand behind me, you'll find that my shadow is actually an angel."

The three leaders on the ground turned their heads away, their faces full of disdain.

Roger chuckled coldly and said slowly, "It seems you only want to be my enemy."

"Then let me tell you, if I can't have it, no one else can either. If you don't speak up before Brodick's men arrive, I will kill you all immediately."

After saying that, Roger picked up a wooden ladle from the bucket behind him, scooped up water, and rinsed the pirate's wound, washing away the salt and blood.

The saline solution was rinsed clean from the wound, relieving the pirate's excruciating pain, and he fell into a coma again.

After rinsing, Roger picked up his hunting knife and made another deep cut on the pirate's bare chest. Then he put down the knife and put his right hand into the salt bag again, stirring it slowly as he smiled and watched the new, bleeding wound.

The thug on the ground had little feeling of pain left; he hadn't reacted much when Roger cut his flesh with the hunting knife.

On the other side, two pirate henchmen, one old and one young, had ashen faces. The young henchman's lower body was already soaked, and the old henchman was also in tears, turning his head to the side, not daring to look.

Although they were just henchmen, they were still pirates, and they had seen many ruthless bandits torture people to extract gold and silver treasures. But this was the first time in their lives they had ever seen such a perverted villain.

It wasn't that the methods were particularly brutal, but rather the perverted look of enjoyment on his face that sent chills down one's spine.

"Olav, if it weren't for Ponytail pleading for you, you'd be lying over there sunbathing right now." Roger glanced at the corpse-drying area next door.

The ponytail-wearing boy behind Roger, holding a short spear and looking ashamed, shifted uncomfortably; at that moment, his ponytail was tied up again.

Roger turned his gaze back to Olaf, meeting the man's venomous eyes. "I spared your life, so you should do something worth it."

"Perhaps with the deaths of this old man and the child, if you continue to be stubborn, they will be next, and you will be last."

With his hands and feet bound, Olaf, the third leader, struggled again, shouting and cursing that Roger should stab him.

Unlike the ponytail-wearing man, the bald man wielding a crossbow had never benefited from anyone's kindness. He glared with bloodshot eyes and pressed the cocked crossbow against the third leader's forehead. "If you don't talk, I'll let you taste the power of a crossbow."