The Face-Saving Fruit Ability Activated
With Yang Ning's current combat strength, killing Black Law wouldn't be difficult.
But doing so would mean wiping out every native on the island—since their lives fueled his resurrection.
Yang Ning looked toward Arthur in the crowd, puzzled. He couldn't understand why the boy would go to such lengths for someone like Hei Lu.
Still, the battle had escalated this far. Yang Ning had no reason to back down. After witnessing the slaughterhouse that was Celestial Dragon territory, his mindset had hardened.
Just a bunch of natives from one island—if they want to die for their tyrant, so be it.
He raised Kotetsu, gaze cold as iron, blade ready to fall.
Black Law, however, had given up entirely. He stood with a sinister smirk, arms wide, offering no resistance—waiting for the killing blow.
From the gate, Arthur panicked and shouted:
"Stop! If you strike him, your companions will die too!"
Swish.
Kotetsu halted mid-swing—its edge hovering just above Black Law's skull, close enough to draw a thin line of blood down his forehead.
Yang Ning turned, voice sharp with suspicion:
"Did you tamper with the treatment just now?"
He was furious. No one liked being threatened—especially with a power as unpredictable as this.
Arthur shook his head quickly. "I didn't tamper intentionally. But anyone affected by my ability… for a short time, I can cast effects on them remotely."
Remotely cast abilities?
Yang Ning glanced at the boy, who'd already removed his hands from the chain of natives. He remembered the green sphere—its missile-like precision, its undetectable path.
Maybe he's telling the truth.
He let out a dry chuckle, then slowly sheathed Kotetsu with a metallic clack.
"You really managed to control me, boy."
"Hehehe! If you're being controlled, then surrender!"
Emboldened by Yang Ning's retreat, Black Law grew cocky again. The man who'd just accepted death now grinned and lunged forward, hand outstretched to grab Yang Ning.
Yang Ning didn't even speak.
He twisted his hip, raised his leg, and delivered a brutal side kick straight to Black Law's chest.
There was a sickening crunch—ribs collapsing inward—and a split second later, the chief's body rocketed backward. He crashed into the black stone wall with a thunderous boom five seconds later.
Arthur watched, stunned—then sighed and summoned the green light once more.
He walked slowly toward Yang Ning, voice weary.
"Strong outsider… we have no grudge. You asked me to save your friend. I did. The village chief insulted you—you've killed him three times. Give me some face… let's stop here."
"Huh?"
Yang Ning nearly laughed.
"You're also a user of the Face-Saving Fruit?"
Arthur frowned. "What Face-Saving Fruit?"
"No, no—just kidding."
Yang Ning waved it off, smile fading.
"Of course I must repay a life-saving debt. So I'll give you face. We'll stop here."
"But I'm curious—how could someone like you risk your life for that kind of scum? And why do these villagers willingly give their lives for him? If I'm not mistaken… they could've just run."
Arthur shook his head, bitterness in his voice.
"You don't understand. That's just… how it is here."
"As for me… I had no choice."
Yang Ning turned away, walking toward the thatched huts.
"Maybe you had a choice," he said quietly. "You just didn't dare take it."
---
After the tense standoff, Yang Ning led Nami and the others out of the Black Stone Temple—swaggering, unbothered, but inwardly unsettled.
Outside, hundreds of natives watched them go—eyes burning with hatred.
Yang Ning couldn't fathom it.
He hadn't started the fight. He hadn't stolen their lives. Shouldn't their rage be aimed at Hei Lu—the man who bled them dry?
He could only blame it on local customs. Every society had its own twisted logic. To them, perhaps, he was the invader who shattered their order.
As he walked, a clod of mud splattered against his back.
He turned. The crowd glared—faces twisted in contempt. A child shouted, innocent but venomous:
"Get out of here, you lowly sea people!"
The absurdity hit him like a wave.
He hadn't mocked them for being thin, dark, or poor—yet they looked down on him?
But remembering Arthur's act of mercy—reviving Sylvester—Yang Ning swallowed his pride. He wouldn't retaliate.
Still, the anger grew with every step through the jungle.
In his past life, he'd been powerless—forced to endure injustice.
Now, with strength, Haki, and a crew who trusted him…
Was he still supposed to bow his head?
No.
He made a decision on the spot: Don't return to the dock.
The old man knew where the New Windbreaker was. It wouldn't be long before this whole island was crawling with World Government spies. Returning would only paint a target on his ship.
Nami and the others, used to following his lead, raised no objections.
They found a campsite near a clear jungle stream—far from the temple, hidden beneath thick canopy.
Sylvester, now recovered and full of energy, volunteered to cut trees for shelter. Willie, still battered and grimacing with every movement, helped his brother without complaint.
Nami, however, was utterly spent. Forcing her new Devil Fruit powers for hours had drained her. She collapsed onto their makeshift raised bed and fell asleep before the fire was even lit.
Seeing his crew's exhaustion, Yang Ning pushed down his rage. He quietly hunted, skinned a giant snake that had foolishly lunged at them, and speared a crocodile from the stream. Both sizzled over the flames.
As the meat cooked, Sylvester—still poking the fire with a stick—said something shockingly thoughtful:
"Captain… why don't we send Nami and Willie back to the ship first? The two of us should be enough, right?"
Yang Ning blinked, genuinely surprised.
"You?"
"Hehe." Sylvester scratched his head, grinning sheepishly.
"Actually… I'm not stupid. My little brother is, though. To keep him from feeling left out—and to keep him happy—I've pretended to be just like him since we were kids."
Yang Ning felt a pang of respect.
Pretending to be foolish for years—for your brother's sake? That took a kind of loyalty few possessed.
"Sending them back is easy," Yang Ning admitted. "But if they leave now, they'll be followed. I'm not fast enough to shake pursuers in this terrain."
"As for sending all three of you…" He glanced at Nami—exhausted, barely conscious—Willie—wounded and slow—and Sylvester himself—still shaky from near-death.
"A team like that, walking through a jungle full of snakes, traps, and who-knows-what… no sane captain would allow it."