Chapter Nineteen: Would You Like to Learn How to Shoot from Me?

Lagren was not arrogant.

Although it was impossible to take the advice offered by the Wolf Rat in the spirit of friendship, the caution the Wolf Rat displayed made him realize that there was something unusual about this weapon shop.

Therefore, he did not rush in recklessly. Instead, he spent a small sum to send a layabout pirate inside to gather information.

The result was just as the Wolf Rat had said: inside were an old man and a scarred-faced girl.

Aside from them, there was a black-haired boy of about fifteen or sixteen.

Which meant the perpetrator was that boy.

He didn’t know the boy’s motive, but that wasn’t Lagren’s concern. What mattered was settling this before his own crew returned.

If possible, he would capture the culprit alive. He could imagine the captain would enjoy spending some time torturing the perpetrator.

Quietly leaving the weapon shop, Lagren headed for the tavern district.

He wanted to find out more about the shop.

His caution stemmed mostly from the Wolf Rat’s indirect warning; otherwise, he would have barged in, blade in hand, looking for trouble.

After all, it was just a weapon shop tucked away in an alley, not one of those main street establishments protected by the “Rules.” So, causing a scene inside wouldn’t bring consequences.

Lagren was confident he hadn’t been exposed.

However, when he and the Wolf Rat first entered the residential district, Saul had already “seen” everything.

Even the shifty-eyed pirate sent to scout the shop had not escaped Saul’s notice.

At six in the evening, the weapon shop closed on time.

“Net profit: fifty thousand.”

Sunny carefully recorded the day’s takings in the ledger.

As for why it was net profit, Modir could easily explain.

After noting the figures, Sunny went to the kitchen to prepare dinner, leaving Modir to tidy up the shop.

As for Saul, he uncharacteristically did not slip upstairs right away.

He remained behind the counter, his gaze frequently drifting toward Modir.

Once the floor was clean, Modir looked up at Saul and asked, “Do you have something you want to say to me?”

“Oh, you noticed?” Saul tapped the ashes from his pipe.

How could he not notice? The old man’s eyes were practically hanging around his neck.

Modir complained inwardly, then composed himself to listen attentively.

Watching Modir, Saul asked, “Would you like to learn how to shoot from me?”

“What?” Modir was taken aback, not expecting Saul to bring this up so suddenly.

For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond.

He knew Saul was no ordinary man—after all, he was acquainted with Shanks and was addressed with respect by Yasopp.

That meant Saul’s marksmanship must be extraordinary.

However, after being influenced by various characters in the original story, Modir was more inclined toward swordsmanship or martial arts rather than firearms.

In his view, guns were merely a stepping stone in the early stages. Once his physique improved, he intended to pursue martial arts or swordsmanship.

That was why he hadn’t rushed to write a second wish in the Hunter’s Journal, preserving the remaining three slots for the future.

Seeing Modir hesitate, Saul waited patiently—he couldn’t imagine why Modir would refuse.

After a while, Modir cautiously said, “Actually, I’d rather learn the sword. Do you know swordsmanship?”

Saul’s eyelid twitched, as if touched on a sore spot. He suddenly stood on his chair and declared, “You want to learn the sword? That worthless thing can’t compare to a gun!”

Seeing Saul’s strong reaction, Modir wisely kept quiet.

He’d heard from Sunny that Saul intended to bid on one of the fifty famous blades at the auction at the end of the month.

This had led Modir to believe Saul was also a skilled swordsman.

But now, it seemed there was more to the story.

“I’m telling you, learning the sword is a quick way to die. Guns are different—you can shoot from a distance, ambush your enemies, and retreat if things go south. Where’s the advantage in using a sword?”

“In short, you’re a natural marksman. Stop thinking about swords and just learn shooting from me, understood?”

Saul’s tone was earnest, almost pleading.

He had expected Modir to gratefully accept, but it seemed he was the one doing the convincing.

If he hadn’t seen that Modir had a natural feel for guns and the potential for Observation Haki, he wouldn’t have bothered.

Just like the shop’s business principle: learn if you want, otherwise get lost.

What Saul didn’t know was that Modir’s so-called natural gun sense was actually the result of hard training in the Hunter world, and his aptitude for Observation Haki was tied to a technique called “Heart’s Echo Listening.”

That afternoon, when Modir dodged Arthur’s probing hand, it was thanks to “Heart’s Echo Listening.”

Though it had stages, its main feature was preemptive awareness.

Otherwise, given Modir’s condition at the time, he couldn’t have evaded Arthur’s hand even if he’d been on guard.

Saul had witnessed this and concluded that Modir had the potential for Observation Haki—a must for any sniper hoping to become truly powerful.

Without it, no amount of marksmanship would ever break through to the ranks of the elite.

As for gun sense, while not as crucial as Haki, it was still essential for a top sniper.

Some people with a natural feel for guns could, without prior experience, hit targets based purely on instinct.

That was gun sense.

Anyone blessed with it, if put on the right path, was destined for greatness.

“I understand, I understand!” Modir didn’t know why Saul was suddenly so eager to take him as a disciple, but under the circumstances, he dared not refuse and nodded repeatedly.

He also realized that learning shooting from Saul wouldn’t hinder his future pursuit of martial arts or swordsmanship.

He wasn’t going to use up a wish on marksmanship, after all.

Most importantly, he’d be able to lean on Saul’s support—so why not?

Seeing Modir finally agree, Saul breathed a sigh of relief.

Wait—why was he the one relieved?

Saul’s lips twitched.

With his experience, even aboard the Red-Haired Pirates’ ship, a call for apprentices would have eager juniors flocking to him.

Yet here he was, afraid Modir would refuse him.

“Oh well. For the sake of your talent, I’ll accept it,” Saul thought.

He was genuinely worried Modir would go down the path of the swordsman—a waste of talent, in his eyes.

If he knew what Modir was really thinking, flipping the table would be the least of it.

“All right, get to work,” Saul snapped.

Without another word, Modir grabbed the mop and bucket and hurried off.

Watching Modir leave, Saul remembered the men who had been after him earlier that day.

“Daring to target one of my own?”

Saul’s eyes flashed—the protective instinct of a mentor awakening.

He walked to the third shelf, where secondhand goods were kept, and casually picked out a flintlock pistol in decent condition.

After witnessing Modir’s talent the previous night, Saul’s attitude toward him had changed fundamentally.

Now that their relationship was cemented, he would not allow petty ruffians to threaten Modir.

...

Night fell.

A single lead bullet flew across several kilometers and struck Lagren, who was gathering intelligence amid the tavern crowds.

Dead with one shot.

The tavern erupted in chaos.

Lagren, a pirate with a bounty of nineteen million Berries, had met his end just like that.