"Captain! What’s going on!"

Crew members rushed over, including sailors and the newly appointed Chief Mate, all gathering at the sound of gunfire.

Looking at those who had arrived, Ande felt a chill in his heart. So many people, he wasn’t confident he could kill them all... But right now they probably didn’t know he’d killed the sailor.

"She! She killed someone. I took the gun from her. Stop her quickly! Oh, and don’t kill her, we should torture her properly!"

Ande shouted cunningly, Watson was holding the Folding Blade, stained with blood. In such an urgent situation, listening to the Captain, the crew easily believed Ande.

They all moved past Ande, walking angrily towards Watson, murder in their eyes.

On this ship, there were basically no good people among the crew. Each had taken lives, and malice clung to them all.

Watson didn’t want to explain much. She had to admit, after the Ascension, it not only freed her from the shackles of the flesh, but over the long period of losing her physical form, her way of thinking had slowly changed.

Some people think that after gaining certain powers, they remain unchanged, unwarped by the power. To Watson, this was a ludicrous idea. Now, she was a prime example.

Watson might still believe she had a shred of humanity, but being free from physical restraints had long made her overlook many things, otherwise her body wouldn’t be so exhausted, and she wouldn’t detest the frail body so much.

Like a caterpillar and a butterfly.

Crossing a great distance, where caterpillars must crawl with effort, butterflies only need to spread their wings and fly. Their ways of thinking and solving problems are entirely different, yet they are the same species.

This was the difference between Watson and humans, the difference between those who had Ascended and those who hadn’t.

No need for many words, these evildoers were all aware of what they’d done; their guilt always warned them, making them carry weapons at all times.

Daggers and short sticks, or long knives and pistols.

The ones with guns didn’t fire. After all, Ande had spoken; he needed her alive. The crew thought he wanted to punish this woman, but in reality, all Ande craved was the gold.

The poison called gold had thoroughly spread throughout his body.

The distance between them began to close. The leading crew member raised a short stick high and smashed it down in front of Watson, thinking that this blow would completely break her, making her fall and wail in agony, pleading for a swift death.

It should have... been like this.

This was his last thought. Although Watson was tired, it was the body that was weary, not her will. Her knife struck swiftly, like lightning. By the time people saw the blurry knife flash, the blade of the Folding Blade had already pierced precisely through his throat, penetrating the spine behind it as well.

Withdrawing the Folding Blade, the man collapsed helplessly, blood gushing endlessly from the wound, draining his body of warmth.

"Next."

Watson said coldly.

Her body was already very tired, so she needed to conserve her strength as much as possible; every attack had to be lethal and fast.

The scene fell silent for a moment, but then an enraged fury surged forth. This didn’t incite fear among them; instead, it stimulated their bloodlust.

The narrow hallway aided Watson greatly; they couldn’t swarm her all at once. Raising the Folding Blade, her eyes stayed fixed on the trajectory of the descending weapons.

It was like a dance.

Watson’s body began to feel weightless, like a fish swimming through water. She wielded the deadly Folding Blade and brushed past the men’s strikes.

The corridor was so narrow that even two people walking side by side would feel cramped, but Watson weaved through the brief gaps, twisting her waist, lifting her arm, her expressionless face weaving through the men in front, leaving a wide trail of blood in her wake.

First, she sidestepped to avoid a blow, then immediately drove the blade into a man’s abdomen. Watson gripped the handle tightly, taking a large step forward. The wound split from the abdomen, extending to the side of the waist, then was forcefully lifted by Watson, slicing through most of his back.

"Kill her!"

The men shouted in alarm, but they couldn’t find Watson.

Their vision was obstructed by the splashing blood, severed limbs, and bodies flying through the air. The fallen flesh impeded the men’s advance. Some tried to fire, but in the narrow hallway, their large forms perfectly shielded Watson.

"Excuse me, please."

Despite the gory scene, Watson looked calm.

The man in front of her, looking at Watson drenched in blood and seeing the coldness of death in her indifferent eyes, felt fear, and screamed in panic.

"Your noise is bothering me!"

Watson, already exhausted, couldn’t stand the sudden scream. She thrust out her other hand, gripping a dagger, driving it straight through the side of the man’s throat, blood flooding into his airways, silencing him.

Simultaneously, a sharpened knife pierced the man’s chest, finishing him off, continuing its path to Watson.

The man behind had finally found an opportunity to attack. As the Captain had said, with each person gone there was one less person to share the loot with. He didn’t care about his comrade’s life, piercing through his body to launch a surprise attack.

The two were separated by a heavy corpse. Watson tried to dodge, but she was tripped by the body at her feet. The sharp blade plunged into her chest, slicing upward along her torso.