Mr. Clark was also somewhat tempted, but then he remembered what had happened just yesterday—his son's life had almost been lost. If it happened again, Mr. Clark felt his own little heart wouldn't be able to take it.

Henry Clark noticed his father's expression and leaned in to persuade him, "Dad, we just fought a battle with the British. Not many died, but there are plenty of wounded. If we go in hard, we'll definitely suffer heavy losses. Besides, your son not only knows Spanish, but also inherited your quick wit. If I take the lead, success is almost guaranteed. As long as we seize that ship carrying the treasure, our chances of taking them all down are at least ninety percent." This guy had always valued profit above his own life.

Moreover, he had to establish his own authority within this group as quickly as possible. For his own goals, he wasn't willing to let his father, who shared his blood, bear that burden for him. "A man should be ruthless to himself." Henry Clark recalled a passionate advertising slogan from later generations.

"Let me think about it..." William Clark looked into Henry Clark's determined eyes, feeling both gratified and pained. The kid had grown up, and one day he would have to fly out of his embrace. Though he knew the world outside was dangerous, if a young eagle didn't experience failure, how could it soar the skies and become a king?

William Clark couldn't help but remember himself at that age. Because of a failed fight with another group of pirates, he was captured. His own father, Henry Clark's grandfather, emptied the family coffers and spent three hundred thousand taels of silver to ransom him from his enemy. Then, no matter how much his mother cried and pleaded, he was given only a small boat and thirty men, and was kicked out of the house with just one sentence: "There are no cowards in the Liang family. If you have what it takes, earn back your honor yourself."

Five years later, he returned home with the head of another pirate leader and three large ships of his own, only to find that his father had already left this world forever. From then on, he turned to legitimate business, becoming a sea merchant—half merchant, half pirate—amassing an astonishing fortune. In the blink of an eye, thirty years had passed. The brat who once peed on his father's nose and mouth had grown into a burly man.

William Clark's expression changed countless times before he finally closed his eyes. "Steward Reed, Thomas, Doctor Bennett, you go with the young master. If he doesn't come back, don't bother coming back to see me either."

"Father!" This call of "father" from Henry Clark was utterly sincere, as he knelt before William Clark on both knees. He truly accepted this father.

"Get up! The Liang family is full of real men—no cowards, no weaklings." Mr. Clark gave Henry Clark a kick, got up, and walked out. Henry Clark heard a conversation coming from outside the cabin. "Master, you're crying."

"Nonsense! The wind just blew some sand into my eyes. What's the big deal..."

Hearing William Clark's voice, Henry Clark wiped away his tears. Seeing the looks from Edward Reed and Monk Brooks, he said, feigning bravado, "Can't a man get sand in his eyes from the wind? What are you looking at?"

"..." Edward Reed's poker face turned as red as an iron heated in a furnace, rolling his eyes furiously. This father and son really were two of a kind.

Scholar Bennett and Monk Brooks both held back their laughter until their faces turned purple, snorting like they were letting out a string of farts. In the end, an enraged Henry Clark chased after them and gave each of these two scoundrels a swift kick on the butt. "Get lost! Go get ready!" The murderous aura from him sent everyone scrambling for cover.

...

In the South China Sea, near Seahorse Shoal, a battered and miserable armed sailing ship floated on the water. Its tattered, hole-riddled sails, the gaping hole at the gun position, the wisps of smoke still rising, and the blood and cannon marks splattered all over the hull—all bore witness to the brutal battle this warship had endured. The fact that it was still afloat was already a miracle granted by God.

Henry Clark was very satisfied. This ship had already undergone plenty of artistic "enhancements." Under Henry Clark's orders, parts of the sails had been deliberately burned with torches to create holes, and blood mixed with ink found on the ship had been splattered everywhere. He had even arranged for plenty of "corpses"—most of them actually living people in disguise. At this moment, a "corpse" slouched on a gun position scratched his butt, only to be kicked by Edward Reed as he walked by, after which he quickly "died" again, lying motionless on the cannon. Another "corpse" nearby, who had been picking his nose, saw this, closed his eyes, and "died" with his finger still stuck in his nostril.

"...Such professionalism." Witnessing all this, Master Clark couldn't help but shake his head and sigh. Compared to those mercenaries who could stay silent in a cesspit for a whole day, these bastards couldn't even play dead properly.

Chapter 7: The French Foreign Legion Is Established Ahead of Time