The Truth Gradually Revealed
The darkness of night was perfect for covert work. Once the moon hung high, Yang Ning assigned Sylvester and Willie to keep watch, then slipped away from camp alone.
Thanks to his Soul Furnace Shield, the jungle's snakes, insects, and beasts posed no real threat. He activated his Observation Haki, scanning the dense foliage for signs of the island's inhabitants.
The tropical jungle was a layered maze of towering trees and thick palms. Even under bright moonlight, the forest floor lay in pitch blackness.
Yet Yang Ning moved with uncanny ease—dodging roots, vines, and pitfalls without a misstep. His Observation Haki was simply that precise.
Back when he'd read the manga, he'd thought Observation Haki was just for detecting enemies and sensing intent in battle.
Now that he was using it firsthand, he was astonished.
Its perception was 360 degrees, blind-spot-free, and reached astonishing distances—rivalling the Byakugan in field of view alone.
But it went further.
While the Byakugan was passive visual enhancement, Observation Haki felt like a third eye with built-in intelligence. It didn't just show movement—it predicted it. It highlighted threats before they acted. It warned of dangers unseen.
He could "see" what the Byakugan saw—and more.
It marked objects he hadn't consciously noticed. It tracked trajectories in real time.
Honestly? It was incredible.
Delighted, Yang Ning played with his Haki like a child with a new toy—gliding through the jungle, mapping every leaf, every creature.
Then—something changed.
At the edge of his range, his Haki detected objects that weren't natural. Their outlines were sharp, structured—man-made.
His playful mood vanished. He moved toward the signal.
Minutes later, his Haki "saw" a large cluster of human figures—gathered in what looked like a village.
He could discern their shapes, but not their words.
"Pity my Haki's still too weak to hear thoughts," he mused. "Otherwise, I could stand here and steal all their secrets."
Greedy as always, Yang Ning was already dissatisfied—even though his Haki already surpassed nearly everyone in the world. Only Enel, with his Rumble-Rumble Fruit, had shown similar perception… and that relied on electromagnetism. If Yang Ning achieved this naturally, even Katakuri would pale in comparison.
But that was beside the point.
Since he couldn't eavesdrop, he'd infiltrate.
The village had no lights—no streetlamps, no torches. Perfect darkness cloaked everything. Yang Ning slipped inside unseen.
He didn't barge into houses like Sylvester or Willie might. He considered himself the only intellectual on the Windbreaker—so he'd act like one.
Using Observation Haki, he picked a target: a five-person household—two elders, two adults, two children. Families with the vulnerable were easiest to… persuade.
He cut through the wall like paper and stepped inside.
The family froze—eyes wide with terror.
Before they could scream, Kotetsu flashed. The room's only table split cleanly in two.
"Quiet," Yang Ning said, voice low. "Answer my questions. Then I leave. Make a sound—and your whole family dies."
The natives weren't fools. With a blade so close, they nodded frantically.
Yang Ning sat on their earthen bed, Kotetsu resting beside him.
"Tell me—what's the truth about the 'Grim Reaper' in that temple?"
The family exchanged fearful glances. No one spoke.
Yang Ning's eyes narrowed. He flicked his finger.
A scorching white bolt—his newly refined Starfire Blade—ripped through the air with a sharp whistle.
One of the men lost an ear before he even flinched.
"Next time," Yang Ning said coldly, "it won't be just an ear."
That broke them.
The woman, tears streaming, clutched her wounded husband and spoke in broken Common Tongue:
"The temple… has existed for a very, very long time. It enshrines the God of Death, who controls life and death. We must serve the God of Death—and the Pantheon—to earn transcendence."
Yang Ning blinked. Transmigrated into a fake One Piece world? This sounded like cult doctrine.
He pressed on:
"The 'God of Death'—is that the closed-eyed boy in the temple? What's the Pantheon? What's 'transcendence'?"
The woman lowered her eyes—but Yang Ning caught the disdain in them.
"The God of Death is invisible. To walk among mortals, He needs a vessel. Lord Arthur is the vessel of the Fifth God of Death."
"The Pantheon is the abode of the gods. Didn't you arrive today with the Divine Messenger?"
Ah. The "Divine Messenger" was the World Government agent he'd captured from the Celestial Dragon's ship.
"As for transcendence…" Her face lit with fanatical joy.
"If we serve Lord Death faithfully, we earn the right to enter the Kingdom of God—where honey flows, food never ends, and countless lowly sea people serve us! We are God's chosen—second only to the gods themselves!"
Yang Ning's face twisted in disgust.
This was textbook religious brainwashing—just like in his past life.
And now it clicked:
The "Pantheon" was the World Government.
The Celestial Dragons had long claimed divine descent. To isolated islanders, calling themselves gods—and their HQ a "Pantheon"—was the perfect con.
But one thing nagged him:
Would the World Government really take people with them?
He asked directly:
"Has anyone actually gone to this Pantheon?"
He expected vague, mystical excuses—like cults back home.
Instead, the woman's eyes blazed with certainty.
"Yes!"
"Every year, the Pantheon sends messengers—sometimes even gods themselves. They meet the Grim Reaper… and take the most devout to the divine realm."
She leaned forward, voice trembling with pride:
"Just a few days ago, a god came with his messenger. And yesterday, when they left… they took our best and brightest—including Lord Arthur's sister."
Yesterday.
Celestial Dragons.
Taking people.
The pieces snapped together.
Yang Ning's expression darkened.