The Immortal Hulk?!
As the dust settled, at the epicenter of the shockwave, a massive, fluorescent green fist was locked in place—blocked by a lone, "slender" figure.
Closer inspection revealed that figure hadn't moved an inch.
A trickle of blood escaped Yang Ning's mouth—but he was smiling. More than satisfied. His armor—331 points—had held beautifully. That punch had only cost him about a hundred health.
"Standing here and letting you hit me… and you only took off a hundred health?"
He scoffed. "Your Hulk's just a bloated mess."
Black Law didn't understand the words—but he felt the chill. His most powerful strike… stopped by an outsider's bare face?
After that brief test, Yang Ning knew the truth: this tribal chief was, at best, an elite CP8 agent. Nowhere near worthy of the grand ritual that empowered him.
Disappointment flickered in Yang Ning's eyes. An opponent this weak couldn't help him adapt to his newly skyrocketed stats.
"You bumpkins—stop pretending to be strong when you're clearly weak! You actually got me excited for nothing!"
He swung Kotetsu.
Soul Drain Strike: 2200+ physical damage.
Starfire Blade: 80+ magical damage.
Feast: pure true damage coiled into the slash.
The result? A blade of scorching white light that looked gentle to onlookers—but to Black Law, it was the sky falling.
The chief stood frozen, sweat pouring, muscles trembling, drool dripping from his slack jaw. He'd forgotten how to run.
Swish.
Kotetsu sliced through him like butter—shoulder to hip, cleaving the over-three-meter behemoth in two.
The halves hit the ground with a wet thud. Blood, green fluid, and viscera spilled across the earth.
Yang Ning sheathed his blade, dazed.
"That's it?"
He'd never won so easily.
But then—he sensed it.
The crowd at the gate hadn't screamed. No panic. No grief. Just… silence.
When he looked closer, they were mourning—but not for Black Law. It was as if they grieved for themselves.
Whoosh.
Again—green light surged through the crowd like a serpent.
Arthur, eyes still closed, absorbed another wave of energy. He clasped his hands, condensed the glow into a sphere, and hurled it like a comet—striking Black Law's corpse with perfect precision.
The light was undetectable by Observation Haki. A guaranteed hit.
Yang Ning frowned. Why heal the dead instead of fighting me?
Then—his eyes widened.
No way…
It worked.
The split body began to fuse. Flesh stitched itself. Bone realigned.
In seconds, Black Law stood again—whole, unharmed, grinning.
"Resurrection?!"
Now Yang Ning understood why the natives called Arthur "Death." This wasn't healing—it was reversal of death itself.
He racked his memory. Was there any Devil Fruit like this in the original story?
The Forest-Forest Fruit—Green Bull's—manipulated life force, yes—but not like this. Not this fast. Not this complete.
He felt a flicker of excitement. This boy was far more valuable than he'd assumed.
Fine. Kill the Hulk. Then have a long talk with the boy.
He raised Kotetsu, studying the "immortal" chief.
Black Law laughed, wagging a finger.
"Strong outsider—you are strong. But you can't kill me unless you wipe out everyone on this island!"
"That last strike? Your best move, right? How many times can you do that?"
"Hehehe… I'm invincible here!"
Yang Ning turned to the old man. "What's wrong with this guy?"
The old man squinted, silent. He'd seen Yang Ning's power firsthand—and now, he quietly agreed with Black Law.
How many times could he land that slash?
Emboldened, the old man straightened. His fake humility vanished. He snorted and turned away.
Yang Ning touched his nose, amused. So this is how people in this world really act—flip sides the moment they see weakness.
"Fine. Let's show you something even more 'realistic.'"
He swung Kotetsu upward.
A blade of flying sword energy—identical in power to the last—shot toward Black Law.
To outsiders, it was just a flash.
To Black Law? The sky collapsed again.
"You really can cut?!"
He roared—but it was too late.
The blade sliced him diagonally in half.
Thud.
His upper body hit the dirt. The lower half swayed, then toppled onto it.
The old man's arrogant posture froze. His face crumpled. Inside, he wailed:
You really can chop him?!
"Oi, old man," Yang Ning called lightly, Kotetsu resting on his shoulder. "What were you humming just now?"
The old man's spine turned to jelly. He bowed instantly, eyes down, voice dripping with fake humility.
"Captain! My nose was stuffy—wasn't directed at you! You asked about this guy?"
He pointed at the reassembling corpse.
"He's just the local tyrant—brute force and tricks, nothing special. The real power here is that boy, the so-called Grim Reaper."
"According to World Government intel, he's a Devil Fruit user. Paramecia type—Life Fruit."
"Oh."
Yang Ning nodded calmly.
And sure enough—green light flared again.
The pearl of energy shot forth. Black Law rose once more, unharmed.
If not for the two puddles of gore on the ground, no one would know he'd been cut down twice.
But the cost was clear.
At the gate, the natives—and Arthur—were deathly pale, faces hollow, cheekbones sharp. Like they'd been drained.
Yang Ning finally understood.
This "Hulk" wasn't immortal.
He was borrowing life—from his entire tribe.
And Arthur? He wasn't a god.
He was a battery—forced to give everything so others could play at being invincible.