"Honorable Mr. Chen, please allow me to address you this way.
I have long heard of your great reputation, and today I am fortunate to meet you. As the rumors say, you are indeed the true king and monarch of this sea..."
...
In the office on the second floor of the cement factory, a native girl fluent in Indigenous, Spanish, and Chinese stood by, diligently translating Kilian's words.
Chen Zhou sat on an ergonomic chair, observing the old fellow dressed in a purple luxurious robe bowing low, adopting a subordinate posture, feeling an indescribable emotion—
He didn't feel proud, nor did he feel the so-called pleasure of being above others, just a bit sickened.
Perhaps it was power, or maybe something else that crushed this sea overlord's dignity, making him bow and speak such hypocritical words.
Kilian's display of compliance was not like the genuine sincerity of the rescued islanders; he merely sought benefits, thus uttering these high-sounding words.
