Daniel lifted his hand and snapped his fingers.
For a brief moment, a faint black glow flickered around Sao Feng's body—subtle, cold, like a shadow tightening around him before settling beneath his skin.
"Done," Daniel said calmly. "You now have immortality."
Sao Feng blinked once.
"That is all?" he asked, unimpressed. "I feel no different."
"You won't," Daniel replied. "Immortality is not fireworks and thunder. It is simply the refusal of death."
He tilted his head slightly.
"So long as you are not beheaded, drowned, or reduced to ash, you will continue living. Wounds will close. Age will slow until it no longer claims you. Blades will disappoint."
The room went very still.
Sao Feng stared at him, suspicion replacing confidence. "And if this is a deception?"
Daniel gestured lazily toward one of the fallen pirates' discarded daggers.
"If you doubt it, test it."
Jack leaned slightly away from Sao Feng. "Yes, do feel free. Preferably somewhere not splashing distance from me."
After a long second, Sao Feng rose from his chair. He picked up the dagger, studied the edge, then without hesitation drew it across his own palm.
The blade bit deep.
Blood welled instantly.
But before the blood could drip to the floor, the wound began to close. Flesh knitting. Skin sealing. The crimson trail fading as if erased.
Within seconds, his hand was whole again.
No scar. No mark.
Silence swallowed the bathhouse.
Sao Feng flexed his fingers slowly, eyes wide—not with fear, but with something far more dangerous.
Ambition.
Jack let out a low whistle. "Well. That's… inconvenient for future enemies."
Daniel met Sao Feng's gaze evenly.
"Now," he said. "The map."
Sao Feng did not waste time on doubt. The sight before him was proof enough—men dropped without wounds, strength undone without steel. No mortal commanded such power.
More importantly, Sao Feng understood leverage. A being who could grant immortality with a snap of his fingers could just as easily turn that gift into an endless punishment.
To refuse the bargain now—after the god had already fulfilled his end of the deal—would not be an act of defiance. It would be reckless arrogance.
Sao Feng had no intention of learning what form a displeased god's curse might take.
He inclined his head slightly and motioned to Lian.
"Bring it."
She disappeared behind a silk screen and returned moments later with a narrow lacquered case, holding it carefully with both hands. At the same time, Sao Feng signaled to a servant. "Wine."
He then gestured toward the unconscious pirates scattered across the floor. "Your Excellency… would you mind?"
Daniel gave a casual nod.
The pressure in the room lifted at once. The fallen men stirred, blinking in confusion as though waking from heavy sleep.
None dared look directly at Daniel. Sao Feng dismissed them with a flick of his hand, and they withdrew quickly.
A low table was set between them. Chairs were arranged. Porcelain cups were placed with deliberate precision. Wine was poured.
Sao Feng personally filled Daniel's cup first, then his own.
Jack leaned subtly toward the table, eyes fixed on the wine with undisguised expectation.
Sao Feng did not even glance at him.
The lacquered case was opened, revealing an aged parchment marked with delicate lines and cryptic symbols—routes, currents, hidden passages known only to those who understood the sea beyond charts and borders.
Sao Feng slid it forward.
"Our agreement," Sao Feng said calmly.
"Good," Daniel replied, lifting the cup of wine without ceremony and taking a slow drink. He paused for half a second, then nodded with genuine approval. "That's excellent. Strong. Clean."
Across the table, Jack watched the exchange carefully, clearly more interested in survival than taste testing. Unfortunately for him, survival was briefly interrupted when two familiar hands settled firmly on his shoulders.
He froze.
Lian on one side. Park on the other.
Both smiling.
"It's nice seeing you," Jack said smoothly as he rose to his feet, adjusting his coat as though this were a pleasant social reunion rather than a reckoning. "Did you miss me?"
The answer came instantly.
A sharp slap landed on his left cheek.
Another on the right.
The sound echoed neatly through the bathhouse.
Jack blinked twice, face turned slightly from the force, then straightened with wounded dignity. "Right. Well. Strong emotions are healthy. Very good for circulation."
Neither woman looked remotely amused.
***
By the time they returned to the Black Pearl, the contrast between them was almost comical.
Daniel stepped aboard in high spirits, hands behind his back, looking entirely satisfied with the evening. He had wine, respect, a legendary map, and a Pirate Lord treating him like visiting royalty.
Behind him, Jack climbed up more slowly.
His face was swollen.
One cheek slightly red. The other slightly worse.
Gibbs stared. "Captain… you look as though you've negotiated with your face."
Jack waved him off with fragile dignity. "Diplomatic discussions. Cultural differences."
Daniel glanced at him and shook his head. "That's what happens when you charm first and think later. When you meddle with women, you either take responsibility… or you take slaps. Avoiding it only guarantees the second option."
Jack sniffed. "I prefer to think of it as leaving a lasting impression."
"You certainly did," Daniel replied dryly.
*****
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