Chapter Thirty-Five: The Rising Star

“A guy like me who made his fortune in bootlegging?” Becky swallowed the remaining half of the devil fruit, her gaze at the middle-aged man filled with contempt. “Seymour, with your narrow vision, it’s no wonder the Corro family was ruined in your hands.”

With those words, Becky stretched out her right hand to the side. A subordinate in a black suit promptly handed her a white napkin. Becky picked up the napkin and wiped her mouth. For the next month, she’d probably never forget that indescribably revolting taste. Tonight, she’d nearly lost her life for this so-called devil fruit. She could only hope its rumored powers were worth the risk she’d taken.

But in the end, even if the power disappointed her, disposing of two rivals so smoothly was still reason enough to fire a hundred shots in celebration.

Seymour, the head of the Corro family—one of the five major underground syndicates—struggled to rise, but it was futile. Blood seeped from his wounds, draining his strength. Even if he could still speak, he’d have no retort for Becky’s words; only hatred and unwillingness showed on his face. Twenty years of painstaking accumulation had crumbled before the sudden rise of the bootlegging business. One misstep, and everything was lost.

“If you choose the right path, even the cheapest liquor can fetch the price of gold,” Becky continued to trample Seymour’s last shred of dignity with the air of a victor, savoring his frustration and rage. “Old fossils like you, trapped in the past, are destined to be swept aside sooner or later.”

Becky tossed aside the napkin and turned to leave. “Adapt with the times if you want to go further, go faster. Do you understand now, you stray dog of the Corro family?” The white napkin drifted down, settling atop Seymour’s head, blocking his final hateful glare at Becky.

Becky’s subordinates stepped forward, guns raised and aimed at Seymour. Bang! Bang! The gunfire erupted, thunderous as a rainstorm.

“You lost without dignity, but I’ll at least give you a dignified death.” Becky’s face was cold as she listened to the barrage behind her.

The auction hall was still in disarray, with a number of guests left behind. Most had been escorted to safety at the first sign of chaos by the auction’s armed guards. Yet there were always those who lingered out of curiosity.

The infamous sheriff, Lafitte, was one such figure. Kid and Killer, there for weapons, were another pair. Saul, who had just acquired the fifty-work grade quick blade, was certainly among them. As for Arthur, he’d had no wish to get involved, but Saul had insisted he stay for company.

Arthur had watched Becky devour the devil fruit he’d dreamed of obtaining—his heart overflowing with nothing but envy. He had certainly considered trying to snatch it, but that would have been pure suicide. The corpses strewn about were testament enough.

Capone Becky... truly ruthless!

Witnessing Becky use herself as bait to eliminate two competitors, Arthur couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of awe at her ferocity.

Nearby, Saul watched Becky stride from the auction with imposing aura. “They say devil fruits taste worse than dung,” he said solemnly.

Arthur glanced at Saul, thinking, so what if it tastes even worse? If he could get a devil fruit, he’d eat a ton of it if need be.

“But you only need to take one bite,” Saul added, running his hand along his long blade, grinning slyly. “I’d have given her a friendly reminder, but there was never a good opportunity.”

Arthur’s mouth twitched.

Saul cast a discreet glance at Kid, then looked toward the main doors. “The show’s over. Time to head home.” With that, he strode toward the exit.

What had surprised Saul most tonight wasn’t just Becky’s audacious display, but also the emergence of formidable new faces like Lafitte. As for Kid—already a familiar presence—Saul had once seen him as the most promising of the up-and-comers. But now...

A certain figure flashed through his mind. Saul smiled, gripping his quick blade, and left under the gaze of Kid and the others.

Soon, others like Lafitte also saw no reason to remain and filed out. Killer looked at his captain with satisfaction. “Kid, time to go.”

Kid nodded, his right hand brushing the short blade and pistol at his waist—his new purchases, of decent quality. Not as good as Keanu’s guns, but they’d do for now. Once out at sea, he was bound to find better.

As he watched the last few figures leave, Kid realized he’d not only witnessed a spectacular drama tonight, but also identified several future rivals worth his attention.

“It’s time...” He grinned broadly and strode toward the door.

Recruiting crew. Outfitting a seafaring ship. In this place, with money, anything could be arranged.

———

Atop the auction house, Ralph, the owner, stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows in his deep crimson suit, hands clasped behind his back, gazing down at Mad Hatter Town’s fiery lights. His subordinate gave a concise but thorough report, but Ralph’s eyes remained as dark and unfathomable as ever—devoid of emotion, as deep as an abyss.

When the report ended, Ralph looked up at the distant Wall Mountain, looming under the moonlight. Compared to the night’s chaos, his true concern lay on the far side of that mountain.

“Any news from the factory?”

“All’s normal.”

“Very well. You may go.”

The subordinate took his leave, leaving Ralph alone in the room. He stared at Wall Mountain in silence for a long time.

———

At the docks, Haku stood at the edge of the deck, his expression relaxing at the sight of two figures approaching through the night. Sabo and Clara had made it back to the ship safely.

“We got it—a map of the layout behind Wall Mountain.” Clara waved the papers at Haku.

“Well done, Kerla.” Haku smiled. With the mission complete, there was no need for code names; her real name sufficed now. “Not only did we get the map, but Sabo also learned the approximate troop numbers and the count of slaves in the factory.”

Clara glanced at Sabo, unusually silent.

“Sabo, what’s wrong? You’ve been acting odd since earlier.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Sabo looked up with a smile. “I was just wondering if we should leave someone behind until the operation begins.”

“You want to stay?” Clara immediately understood and was surprised.

Haku cut in at once. “No need for that.”

Before Sabo could reply, Clara, knowing his ways, pressed further. “Why not?”

Sabo scratched his head, answering earnestly, “Tonight I met a masked man—most likely a navy agent undercover in the town. He might have earlier and more useful intelligence.”

“Huh?” Clara immediately thought of the figure who’d shot and saved the fish-man slave.

“Was he carrying a flintlock rifle?” Sabo looked at Clara in surprise.

Clara quickly described Mode’s appearance, and how he’d saved the fish-man.

After listening, Sabo nodded in realization. Haku, a fish-man himself, said gravely, “I never imagined there’d be such a navy agent here...”

“Well, it’s not confirmed yet.”

———

Saul returned to the weapon shop and was immediately greeted by the aroma of food. Following the scent to the kitchen, he found Mode and Sunny eating noodles.

“Oh, you even made a bowl for me?”

Seeing the steaming beef noodles on the table, Saul’s stomach growled. He casually set his newly acquired quick blade on the table, grabbed a bowl, and began to eat.

Mode’s gaze was drawn to the long blade. “Saul, is that one of the fifty-work quick blades auctioned tonight?”

“Slurp... It is. Its name is Chidori.”