"Waaahh!!"
Tears and snot streaming down his face, the young man clutched his crotch with both hands, writhing on his knees.
"Hora hora." Perona giggled, giving Moses a strange look as she tugged at his arm. "You're really brutal to your own gender, huh?"
Moses curled his lip and stepped forward, planting his foot on the man's face and grinding it into the ground. "Consider this a small lesson. Don't get handsy next time."
Whether there would be a next time remained to be seen.
With that, he kicked the man in the abdomen. A dull "thud" sounded as the man was sent flying dozens of meters out to sea, skipping twice across the water before sinking beneath the waves.
The remaining four exchanged glances.
Then their expressions turned vicious.
"You little brat, you're dead."
"Let's kill him!"
Moses bared his teeth in a grin. The instant they moved, he appeared before one of them—another crotch-kick.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
"AAAHHH!!!"
Screams erupted one after another.
Moses pried open one young man's palm, examining the white powder in it. He pinched some between his fingers and sniffed.
A slight dizziness washed over him.
"Just as I thought," he muttered. "Date-rape drugs."
Perona leaned in curiously. "Date-rape drugs?"
"Yeah. That trash I just dumped in the sea had the same stuff on him." Moses' eyes were cold. "Just a bunch of scum."
"Are people on this island always this awful?" Perona asked, surprised.
"Mock Town on Jaya Island—a lawless zone where no one enforces order. The people living here are either thugs, pirates, or their descendants."
"And these guys are...?"
"What else? They saw how cute you are and thought they could make some money selling you off."
Hearing this, Perona suddenly covered her face, eyes sparkling as she looked at Moses:
"Hora hora, though I am adorable, you didn't have to say it out loud. Hehe."
Her laughter faded as her expression darkened. She walked up to the fallen men and stomped on each of their faces with her little black dress shoes, cursing:
"You damn bastards, die die die, just go die already."
Listening to their pitiful moans, Moses crouched beside one of the young men, his face blank.
"There are more than just the five of you, right?"
Sweat pouring down his face, the young man glared fiercely. "Kid, you'd better let me go, or else—"
Moses drew Cold Dew, the tip of the blade resting precisely on the man's left eyeball. He applied slight pressure, his voice icy. "Or else what?"
The man trembled, the ferocity in his other eye instantly replaced by clarity as he blurted out:
"Or else... I'll definitely apologize to you!"
"Talk. Who do you work for? Where's your hideout? How many of you are there? Lie to me, and I won't kill you—I'll just remove the four little balls from your body."
The young man looked bewildered.
Perona, who had walked over, was equally confused. "He has four balls? What are those?"
Moses turned to her, exasperated. "Why are you everywhere? Go play somewhere else. Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Tell me, I'm curious!"
"Pfft!"
At that moment, Robin, who had heard the commotion from the cabin and was now leaning against the railing, laughed:
"Peipei, you dummy, two eyeballs, and two of those things."
"What things?" Perona looked at Robin with eager curiosity. "Tell me now, or I'll send a Negative Spirit through you."
Robin's face flushed slightly as she glared at her. "Ask Moses. He has them."
With that, she turned and walked away from the railing without another glance.
Perona turned her curious gaze to Moses. "What are the other two balls? Robin said you have them."
Moses twitched his lips. "Get lost. Go ask your Dorell Big Sister. I don't have time for you right now."
With a cold expression, Moses turned his attention back to the young man. Seeing Moses' gaze, the young man suddenly realized what the other two "balls" referred to.
"I'll talk, I'll talk! Just don't touch my family jewels."
Perona pouted at this and muttered, "I'm going back," before climbing onto the ship without another word.
The young man spilled his identity like a bag of beans.
His background was simple—a low-ranking member of a slave-catching gang. They operated a business on the island called the "Get Rich Quick Bar."
On the surface, it was a bar, but in secret, it was a hub for slave traders. Like a pack of wolves, they preyed on anyone who came to the island—merchants, tourists, pirates—anyone they could ambush.
Their daily routine involved scouting the port for potential targets.
If they found a suitable mark, they'd earn some extra cash on the side.
Moses glanced at the three other groaning men on the ground. He walked over, kicking each one unconscious before booting them into the sea.
Three loud splashes followed, and minutes later, four grain-sized Soul Crystals flew toward him.
[Obtained F-grade Soul Crystal ×4]
Finally, he turned to the trembling young man and nudged him with his foot. "Get up and lead the way."
The man shivered, clamping his legs together as he shuffled forward.
Some of the townsfolk watched the scene with dark expressions but pretended not to notice.
Truly, the epitome of wholesome local customs.
Before they had walked more than a few seconds, Perona's Spirit Body flew over and phased straight through Moses' chest from behind, settling cross-legged on his heart.
Moses twitched his eye. This girl was getting way too comfortable.
"Hahaha, Moses, I wanna come too! Take me with you."
"I refuse."
"Rejection denied. I'm already here, so don't even think about sending me back."
About ten minutes later, they arrived at a shabby, two-story bar tucked away in a remote corner. A sign hung on the door:
"Get Rich Quick Bar"
The young man pushed the door open, revealing a staircase leading underground—about a dozen meters deep.
Moses eyed him. "The bar's in the basement?"
The man stammered, "Y-yes, it's an underground bar."
"Lead the way."
The young man awkwardly descended, legs still pressed together. Moses extended his Observation Haki, sensing numerous life signatures in the underground bar.
Suddenly, Moses frowned and paused before continuing downward.
"What's wrong, Moses?" Perona whispered, noticing his reaction. "Did you find something?"
"Yeah. There's a big shot inside. His aura's stronger than mine—might be trouble. Listen to my signal. If things go south, hit him with a Negative Spirit."
"Ha-la-ha-la, don't you worry."
Perona said cheerfully.
At the end of the stairs, a wooden door came into view. The young man pushed it open, and the bell on the door jingled with a "ding-ling."
Moses followed him inside.
Upon entering, the air was thick with the strong smell of alcohol and tobacco.
In sight was a spacious bar spanning about a hundred square meters. Directly opposite the door, at the far end, was the counter, lined with rows of liquor shelves and bottles. Inside the bar, there were eight tables, almost all occupied—at a glance, there were at least forty people.
Moses frowned slightly. This didn't quite match the life signatures he had sensed earlier with his Observation Haki, but there was no need to dwell on it now.
"Well, well, if it isn't our dear Bela? What's the matter? Did the little guy get wrecked? Why are you walking like that?"
"Pfft—hahaha! Bela got his junk busted!"
"Eh? Bela actually brought back a top-tier catch."
A burst of raucous laughter erupted, but soon someone noticed something was off. Bela would usually explode in anger when teased, not cower and stay silent like this.
Moses paid no mind to the rowdiest of the bunch. Instead, his gaze fixed on a particular direction—the farthest corner of the bar, where a single person sat at a table.
「Appraisal」
Level Evaluation: C-
But that wasn't all. From the information Moses saw, this man was also a Zoan-Type ability user.
[Dog-Dog Fruit: Bull Terrier Form]
It was a middle-aged man drinking alone, dressed in neat pajamas, seated at a table laden with a full spread of meat dishes.
His muscles were thick and well-defined, like a bodybuilder's.
What stood out most were his unusually thick eyebrows.
The latest updates are first published on 69shu.com!
Just then, Bela, who had been standing in front of Moses, suddenly charged forward, letting out a hoarse roar:
"All of you, be careful! Micah and the others were killed! There's something wrong with this brat!"
The bar fell silent.
Then, some began to shift their shoulders, others parted their lips, about to speak.
Suddenly, a cold voice came from the corner. It wasn't loud, but the moment it sounded, the atmosphere in the bar shifted:
"Quiet, all of you. Bela's right. There really seems to be something off about this kid. He's giving me a faint sense of danger."
As a Zoan-Type ability user, he had an innate sensitivity to threats.
Moses looked toward the source of the voice—the man in pajamas.
Noticing Moses' gaze, the man wiped his mouth with a napkin and smiled with forced elegance:
"I think I know how Bela and the others offended you. How about we let bygones be bygones? I can offer you a million Belly in compensation.
After all, two fists can't beat four hands, right? With so many of us here, it's better to keep things peaceful.
Oh, by the way, my name is Quetta. Du Feld, the Loan Shark King, is my boss. Not sure if you've heard of him. So, what do you say, kid?"
Moses' expression turned odd. The Loan Shark King again? He remembered his friend Hancock had been captured by their people.
This wasn't just a new grudge—it was an old score too.
"Not interested. I came here for only two things today: either I beat all of you to death, or you all get beaten to death by me. It's that simple."
"No chance for reconciliation?"
"The sun hasn't even set yet."
"Boys, we've got a troublemaker here."
Quita's eyes turned icy as he raised his right hand and swung it downward:
"Break this brat's limbs, then harvest all his organs later."
"Raaahhh!!!"
The next moment, the bar patrons surged forward in a frenzy.
Moses watched them with indifference, his expression calm as he observed the first attacker charging at him.
The man closed in, throwing a vicious straight punch aimed at Moses' head, his eyes filled with cruel amusement:
"Hahaha, I got you now."
Moses' right hand gripped Cold Dew's hilt. Watching the approaching fist, he thrust the blade forward—shink—the combination of Cold Dew's sharpness and Moses' strength drove the sword clean through the man's fist.
"AAARGH!!"
Instantly, the mockery in his eyes froze, replaced by a howl of agony.
Moses twisted his wrist downward, the excruciating pain forcing the man to buckle. His left fist clenched, cutting through the air with a whoosh before thudding heavily into the man's face.
His head snapped sideways, bloody teeth flying as his skull jerked backward.
Moses stepped forward with his left foot, his right leg lifting to deliver a powerful kick to the man's belly, sending him flying horizontally.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
A series of impacts echoed as his body crashed into the slavers charging behind him, clearing a wide space in front of Moses.
With a flick of his short sword, Moses scattered droplets of blood, painting a crimson semicircle on the floor.
His Breath rose and fell steadily as he crouched slightly, then pushed off the ground with explosive force, becoming a blur as he weaved through the crowd.
Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash!
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
Cold Dew danced in his hands, cutting through the mob. Every punch and kick landed with bone-shattering precision, each strike deliberate and devastating.
Soon, the bar was filled with waves of anguished moans and cries. Moments later, Moses came to a stop.
Blood stained every corner.
Occasionally, a Soul Crystal—visible only to Moses—floated into view.
Only one enemy remained standing in the entire bar.
Moses regarded him coolly. "I'm warmed up now."
Still standing in the corner, Quita surveyed the carnage, his expression darkening. He looked down at Bella, who sat trembling at his feet.
"Heh. My offer still stands. Five million Belly, and we let this go. Deal?"
Moses didn't respond. Instead, he kicked off the ground, darting toward Quita at blinding speed.
Quita's eye twitched. His right leg snapped out, launching Bella like a human cannonball straight at Moses.
Unfazed, Moses maintained his charge. As Bella collided toward him, his body swayed like paper in the wind—Paper Drawing—evading her impact. In the same motion, he swung Cold Dew, the blade grazing her neck.
A trail of blood dripped from the sword's tip.
The moment he cleared Bella, Moses faced a sudden, brutal right-leg roundhouse kick.
A crimson glint flashed in his eyes as his feet tapped the ground in rapid succession, turning him into a phantom. "Soru."
His figure abruptly retreated a meter, narrowly avoiding the thick leg. A gust of wind whipped past his face, tousling his hair.
Calmly meeting Quita's stunned expression, Moses uttered, "Soru."
His feet blurred against the floor, vanishing before reappearing behind Quita in a flash of cold steel.
Moses flicked the blood off his sword and turned to look at him with a puzzled expression:
"Partial beast transformation?"
The Queta standing before Moses had undergone a drastic change.
A white-furred, broad-foreheaded dog-headed humanoid with sharp fangs and claws, bulging muscles, backward-bending legs, and a wagging tail behind him. His stature had nearly reached three meters.
His eyes were small, and now his jagged maw lolled a tongue as Queta's gaze turned sinister, glancing at the long, bleeding wound on his waist.
If not for the timely partial beast transformation that strengthened his body's defenses, it wouldn't have been just a shallow slash now.
His right hand touched his waist, then he licked the bloodied fingers. "Kid, you're pretty good."
Before the words even finished, he charged forward at blinding speed.
Moses narrowed his eyes, watching as the figure closed the distance in an instant, throwing a barrage of heavy punches aimed at every part of his body.
The movements were swift, the fists whistling through the air.
Yet, Moses' Observation Haki clearly perceived every punch and the gusts they stirred.
Queta's only attributes at C- were "Strength" and "Endurance." He didn't possess Hegemony, and none of his other stats surpassed Moses'.
Like a willow in the wind, Moses anticipated each movement through Observation Haki, remaining untouched amidst the storm of fists.
"Raaaaaah! Hit already, damn it!"
Queta roared in frustration. He hadn't expected this kid to be so slippery. His muscles bulged further, and the force behind his punches suddenly intensified.
Breathing steadily, Moses attuned himself to the rhythm of the wind's Breath, sensing every motion. His figure twisted unnaturally, appearing right in front of Queta.
Riding the wind, he leaped up, his left hand grasping Queta's retracting arm.
His body, light as a feather, was carried along, bringing him eye-to-eye with Queta.
Black-red arcs of electricity crackled along the blade of Cold Dew.
With a twist of his body,
he swung the sword.
A stunning black-red slash appeared across Queta's neck.
Divine Departure?