"Young man, have a seat!"

The old man gently extinguished his cigarette butt, placed it on the side of the deck, then lightly tapped the deck and said to Yang Yan.

Yang Yan smiled softly, didn't say much, and silently sat down on a small stool beside the old man.

"Young man, don't mind this old man nagging! Life has repeatedly taught us that it's quite good to know how to care for nature."

"But don't worry, the fishing methods I use were handed down from my ancestors, and the amount of fish caught each time isn't too much. Just enough for two or three days' worth of food for the family!"

After saying this, the old man handed Yang Yan a locally unique short cigarette.

Yang Yan thanked him, took it and lit it, taking a puff.

The taste was somewhat spicy, but the aftertaste was long-lasting, sufficiently palatable.

"My ancestors were pirates!" the old man suddenly said with a laugh, "Back then, sometimes we had enough for one meal but not the next, so they developed this fishing method."

"When there were no other sources of livelihood, at least we wouldn't starve to death, and that's how we barely survived in those resource-scarce times."

Yang Yan smiled lightly:

"Pirates, huh? That's really a distant legend!"

"Yes, it truly is a distant legend. So, would you like to hear stories about the Nordic pirates?"

The old man gazed at the horizon of the sea and asked wistfully.

"Hmm! Of course, I'd like to hear."

Since there was nothing else to do, listening to the stories of the Nordic pirates was a good pastime.

"Well, this has to be told from a long, long time ago."

The old man began with the standard opening of a story.

"First of all, I must say, my ancestors were Vikings, which naturally also refers to the Nordic pirates."

"From the eighth century AD until the end of the eleventh century, they continuously harassed Europe and the islands of England."

"Their footprints spanned almost the entire European continent and even the vast territories of the Arctic."

"At that time, it could be said to be the most glorious period for our ancestors, known as the Viking Age."

The old man's eyes were evidently filled with admiration as he reminisced about the illustrious past of his ancestors.

At this moment, Yang Yan sat beside him without interrupting, serving as a good listener, hearing the old man narrate the glory of his ancestors.

"Speaking of which, there's something the old man wants to show you that will surely open your eyes."

The old man suddenly seemed to remember something, stood up, and walked towards the cabin.

After a short while, the old man came out.

In his hand was a somewhat worn-out long metal strip.

When he got closer, Yang Yan could see clearly, this wasn't a metal strip at all!

This was clearly an ancient sword with quite some history!

"How's that? Not bad, right? Do you recognize what this is?"

The old man shook the ancient sword in his hand, seeming somewhat proud as he spoke.

Yang Yan replied with a smile:

"If I'm not mistaken, this should be the weapon with which the Nordic pirates swept the seas, a Viking Sword, right?"

"Wow! Not bad! You actually know this is a Viking Sword. Unfortunately, many people today don't recognize such things anymore."

"Not to mention you out-of-town tourists, even we locals with pirate blood mostly don't recognize this kind of sword."

The old man sighed lightly and said ruefully.

"No way! A famous weapon like the Viking Sword, how could anyone not recognize it?"

There is a saying in Huaxia that everyone loves flattery.

The meaning is that everyone likes to hear good words.

This saying holds true universally.

Just look at how the old man, upon hearing this, immediately put away his lamentations and wore a proud expression.

But his proud smile didn't stay on his face for long, followed by a heavy sigh.

"It's a pity..." the old man said in a deep voice, "Something that even an outsider like you understands, yet we locals don't recognize at all."

"Even many have sold their family's Viking Swords. This is simply desecrating the glory of our ancestors."

Upon hearing this, Yang Yan didn't know how to comfort the old man.

In fact, not only the descendants of these Viking Pirates, even in Huaxia, with its five-thousand-year history, face similar embarrassment.

If it were just selling off ancestral heirlooms, it would be bearable, but some even have ideas about various burial artifacts.

Many long-standing ancient tombs or sites have been frantically excavated, with a lot of ancient artifacts of immense research value being looted and smuggled worldwide.

Yang Yan gave a bitter laugh and had to console him:

"There's really no other way. After all, as the times change, forced by circumstances, they may have had no choice but to give up some of their ancestors' possessions."

The old man, having lived so long and being worldly-wise, knew Yang Yan was trying to comfort him.

He shook his head bitterly:

"Alright, enough of that, let's continue with our previous topic!"

"Speaking of the Viking Pirates, people probably remember their oddly shaped helmets and huge red beards more vividly, right?"

Yang Yan was also eager to end this heavy topic and quickly nodded:

"Yes! After all, that's how it's portrayed in the movies. Red-bearded pirates holding Viking Swords roaring as they charge at England's merchant ships."

The old man, however, shook his head:

"Is it always like that? Those movies are simply nonsense!"

At this point, he even waved his fist angrily.

"Back then, aside from those particularly powerful pirates, other small groups often didn't have enough to eat, let alone such equipment!"

"At that time, more people would just grab an axe, or even simple clubs, and charge at those merchant ships."

"Moreover, by the thirteenth century, King Harold I of NW had resolved to clear the pirates from Scotland and nearby islands completely."

"In fact, he did so. In a short time, some Vikings had no choice but to flee to Iceland."

"However, more were taken by the God of Death on their way to escape."

The speaker had no particular desire in mind, but the listener might.

God of Death?

Yang Yan felt like he had caught onto something.

He suddenly showed a barely perceptible smile, then lit another cigarette for the old man and said:

"What God of Death? Did they encounter a tsunami? Or was it something else?"

The old man took a deep drag on his cigarette and shook his head dismissively:

"A tsunami? Compared with the God of Death, what's a tsunami! That was much more terrifying than a tsunami."

Yang Yan narrowed his eyes slightly and asked seemingly unintentionally:

"Oh? Isn't a tsunami the scariest thing on this ocean?"

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