Approaching the bar, Lex saw that its entrance was covered with various wanted posters.
The most striking among them was for the 'King of the Five Seas', whose poster featured large, blood-red characters and a reward so high it made one's throat dry: a staggering 80,000 pounds!
Other wanted posters included great pirates worth thousands of pounds, common pirate chiefs worth hundreds of pounds, and Admirals worth tens of thousands of pounds.
The posters were layered, from top to bottom, almost completely covering the door.
Lex retracted his gaze, pushed open the door, and stepped into the bar.
He immediately saw two men cursing at each other, displaying their exquisite Sea cursing techniques and vocabulary.
One of the brawling strongmen wore a blue and white striped navy shirt, while the other had a shaved head with a Sea eagle tattooed on it.
"You dog-shit Navy!"
"No one in Damir Port dares to accuse me of serving the master of the Black Tulip!"
Upon hearing this, Lex glanced at the man with the Sea eagle tattoo.
The Black Tulip was the flagship of the Hell Admiral.
Was this man his informant?
No, if I were the Hell Admiral, I wouldn't use such an idiot.
Lex paid no mind, walked to the bar, and tapped the wooden counter: "Give me a Nanville Beer, and what do you have to fill my stomach?"
The Bartender, with bronze skin and white teeth, said expressionlessly: "Our special cured meat is quite good, would you like a plate?"
Lex nodded: "And a potato bread."
The Bartender then walked towards the kitchen.
Lex turned around and saw that the two strongmen had finished their argument, but now, a short, thin man sat down nearby, holding a drink.
"You must be an Adventurer, right?" He smiled.
The man had black hair and blue eyes, his features looked somewhat aged, and his demeanor was rather shifty.
Lex, wanting to embellish his 'life experience', smiled slightly: "Isn't that obvious?"
Like a rookie just starting out, he somewhat boastfully pulled back his cloak, revealing the ornate Blood Praise.
"I can tell, you're not a simple fellow.
Have you heard of the death's treasure?" the short man whispered, looking left and right, as if afraid of being discovered.
Lex made himself look extremely interested: "Tell me about it."
"Legend has it that hundreds of years ago, a ship sailing from the South Continent to the North Continent sank in the Sea.
That ship belonged to secret organization, an organization that worshipped Death, and I heard there were even members of the Ancient Baylam Empire royal family on board.
But none of that matters.
What's important is that the ship was laden with Treasure Trove," the short man recounted vividly, as if he had personally witnessed the ship sinking to the bottom of the Sea.
"My companions and I found some information and know its sinking location.
We've decided to salvage it ourselves, which will cost about 1200 pounds.
I've already found 10 investors and raised 870 pounds.
Are you interested in participating?"
As soon as he finished speaking, someone shouted: "Woody, didn't I tell you not to let me see you in the bar!"
The strongman with the Sea eagle tattoo on his head grabbed the short man, threw him to the ground, and then sat in Woody's chair.
"Don't mind him, friend, this is a rat from our Damir Port.
He's always scamming people and ruining our reputation."
"Hey, you don't have to be afraid, I, 'Sea Eagle' Logan, have nothing to do with the Hell Admiral!"
I'm not afraid.
And why do you emphasize that?
"Your cured meat, bread, and drink."
The Bartender's voice came from behind the bar.
Lex turned around and saw a plate of clearly red and white sliced cured meat, a somewhat burnt potato bread, and beer in a wooden mug already placed on the wooden counter.
"6 pounds.
The bread and beer are complimentary," the Bartender said expressionlessly.
Why don't you just rob me?
This was Lex's first thought upon seeing the food.
Look at this cured meat, so thin and sparse.
And this bread, this beer, let alone 6 pounds, even 1 pound is too much.
"Friend, it's time to pay."
'Sea Eagle' Logan turned his head to look at Lex, revealing a gentle smile, and flexed his arm to display his muscles.
Lex sat up straight and smiled: "Clearly, this food is greatly overpriced.
Is this how you run your business? Forcing new faces to buy?"
Logan's face fell: "Friend, the people of our Damir Port are very hospitable, but if someone wants to eat and drink for free, we will certainly not be polite to him."
He whistled, and men emerged from all around the bar, walking towards Lex with ill intent.
Lex laughed, nodded, pulled out a 5-pound note and a 1-pound note from his pocket, placed them on the bar, and then walked towards the door.
Logan winked, and the men sat back down.
He then picked up the money from the table, threw a 1-pound note to the Bartender, and laughed: "I thought I'd run into some tough guy, turns out he's a softie."
The Bartender was about to complain that he got too little money, but suddenly froze, staring blankly ahead.
"What are you looking at?" Logan turned his head and saw Lex walk to the main door, but instead of leaving, he pushed a table to barricade it.
Then he closed each window around the bar and drew the curtains.
Throughout the process, Lex's expression was solemn, as if performing a solemn ritual.
Afterward, he clapped his hands and walked back, smiling.
Looking at the smile on Lex's face, Logan felt something was about to happen.
He quickly stood up and drew his ancient pistol, which could have been displayed in a museum.
He pointed the pistol at Lex: "What are you going to do!"
Lex ignored him, walked to the side, brought out a high stool, and placed it in front of Logan, leaving the strongman bewildered.
Suddenly, Lex darted forward, closed in on Logan, pressed the back of his head with one hand, tripped him with his foot, and simultaneously threw him with force.
The strongman immediately lost his balance, his head hitting the seat of the high stool heavily, then he rolled to the ground, screaming in pain.
He endured the pain and raised his pistol, but Lex caught one of his fingers, twisted it outwards, making Logan drop the pistol in agony.
Lex raised his foot and kicked down hard, striking Logan's chin with a loud crack, dislocating his jaw on the spot.
Lex raised his foot again, kicking a second time, and this time Logan's nose was skewed to one side.
Bang, bang, bang
A series of rhythmic thuds echoed in the bar.
Logan had already fallen unconscious after the third kick, but Lex kicked five times before stopping.
The Bartender's face turned green, and he shouted: "Beat him, beat him!"
The bar's bouncers who had stood up earlier now rushed over, but Lex knocked them down one by one.
Only when the floor was covered with fallen men did Lex sit back on the high stool, slowly take a sip of beer, pick up a slice of cured meat, put it in his mouth, chew it, and comment: "It's a bit thin, but the taste is really good, it has a unique flavor."
Behind the bar, the Bartender didn't know how to respond and didn't dare to leave, so he just stood there like a block of wood.