Only when a Celestial Dragon is harmed will the Marines dispatch Admiral-level power to clean up the mess.
That was exactly why the Celestial Dragons were so arrogantly fearless.
In terms of actual combat strength, a single pirate with a bounty over a hundred million could deal with those pig-like "nobles" easily.
But the price of doing it was endless pursuit by a Marine Admiral—so most pirates chose to detour the moment they saw a Celestial Dragon.
Rono, however, was the exact opposite.
He was practically hoping the Marines would hurry up and send an Admiral. That way, his own strength could grow by a massive margin.
After two days at sea, Rono crossed Reverse Mountain into the Grand Line, then sailed for another full day before finally catching up.
The Revenge wasn't exactly a fast ship—but he'd still made it in time.
At the harbor of an island ahead, a luxury cruise ship was anchored—towering dozens of meters high.
Even from far away, you could see every part of it.
Every part.
Diamonds, jewels, emeralds, gold—everything was studded into the hull and railings as if money itself had been used as paint.
The gemstones glittered in the sunlight, the sheer extravagance enough to make your throat dry.
On the mast flew two flags.
One was the World Government flag.
The other was the symbol of the Celestial Dragons—the Hoof of the Soaring Dragon.
That mark was the Celestial Dragons' brand. Even slaves were burned with it—each one stamped as "property," a declaration of ownership.
Rono opened his Observation Haki, and in moments he pinpointed the Celestial Dragon's exact location.
By coincidence, the island was Jaya, and the Celestial Dragon was currently in Mock Town.
Mock Town was a small settlement on Jaya—basically a low-grade version of a lawless zone, crawling with pirates.
And the reason the Celestial Dragon had chosen to dock here was painfully simple:
He'd received news that the Heavenly Tribute from the East Blue had been hijacked.
Not only that—many rare slaves had been freed as well, including countless beautiful fishman slaves.
The Celestial Dragon was furious.
He needed a place to vent.
So he chose Mock Town.
The pirates of Mock Town were usually bold and vicious—but the moment the Celestial Dragon arrived, they dropped to their knees like wheat under a scythe. None of them wanted to anger him and bring an Admiral down on their heads.
In the center of the street stood a man so grotesque he was impossible to miss:
A transparent spherical glass helmet over his head. A face thick with folds of fat. A crude bowl-cut like a watermelon rind. A squat, misshapen skull. And a string of snot hanging from his nose as if he didn't even know shame.
A World Noble.
A Celestial Dragon.
And beneath him—
he rode a "mount."
A powerfully built man covered in bruises, an explosive collar hanging from his neck.
Look closer, and you'd recognize him:
A pirate with a bounty of 68 million Beli, someone with a bit of fame.
Now he was nothing more than a living animal beneath a Celestial Dragon.
On both sides of the street, pirates knelt in dense rows.
They were tense to the point of shaking. Staring at that rotten face, they feared the man might snap at any moment.
And soon—
something no one expected happened.
The Celestial Dragon slid down from his "mount." A man in a crisp black suit and dark sunglasses hurried forward and bowed respectfully.
"Saint Charlmaco, what are your orders?"
Saint Charlmaco flicked his snotty nose and spoke lazily. "This mount is already covered in wounds. I'm bored of him. I'll pick a replacement here."
The "mount" nearly cried from joy. He dropped to his knees and thanked him frantically.
"Thank you, Celestial Dragon-sama! Then… I can leave now, right?"
Saint Charlmaco's expression twisted into something ugly.
"Filthy commoner slave—did I ever say you could leave?"
Before the man could even process the words, Saint Charlmaco gave an order to the suited guard beside him.
"Go. Bring out the newest torture tool I prepared."
At once, several black-suited guards carried over a massive, transparent glass tank draped in black cloth.
The tank was large enough to fit seven or eight people inside.
"What's he doing…?" the pirates whispered, baffled.
Then the cloth was yanked away—
and every face in the street turned deathly pale.
Inside the clear glass tank writhed nearly a hundred venomous creatures:
Poisonous snakes, scorpions, centipedes—packed together in a crawling nightmare.
And they weren't just venomous.
They were all highly lethal species.
In the sealed tank they squirmed and coiled endlessly. Just looking at it made your scalp prickle.
Saint Charlmaco, on the other hand, looked thrilled.
"Good." He clapped once, excited. "Strip that filthy slave naked and throw him in."
Everyone present froze.
Strip a man and throw him into a tank full of deadly snakes?
Even pirates—people who lived by violence—couldn't imagine cruelty like that.
The Celestial Dragon's brutality was dozens of times worse than theirs.
And it still wasn't over.
Saint Charlmaco swept his gaze around, then pointed carelessly. "That one. That one. And that one too. Throw them in as well."
His finger landed on five unlucky men kneeling nearby. His guards moved immediately.
Those five stared in disbelief.
They hadn't provoked him. They hadn't done anything.
So why them?
Because a Celestial Dragon didn't need a reason.
You were simply unlucky enough to be noticed.
That was what a Celestial Dragon was.
That was what a "World Noble" meant.
Once chosen, you could only accept your fate—unless you had the strength to fight off a Marine Admiral.
And how many people on the sea could fight an Admiral?
Soon, the guards tossed them all into the tank.
A moment later, screams tore out—inhuman screams, like pigs being slaughtered.
Bitten by over a hundred venomous creatures with nowhere to run…
you could imagine the despair.
"Hahahaha! Hahahaha! Interesting! This is interesting!"
Watching them convulse and die, Saint Charlmaco clapped in delight, his face shining with excitement.
The gloom from losing the East Blue's Heavenly Tribute was wiped clean.
Looking at commoners suffering made him feel refreshed—like his back didn't ache anymore, like his whole body had been "healed."
"Just… venting?" some pirates muttered in horror.
"So this is what the 'gods' who rule the world are like…"
"Once they set their eyes on you, you're dead."
The pirates' worldview was shattered.
In terms of lawlessness, pirates were children compared to Celestial Dragons.
The torture lasted ten full minutes. Only after the victims had completely stopped breathing did the Celestial Dragon finally give another order.
"Find me a new mount among these people."
"Yes, Saint Charlmaco," the black-suited man replied respectfully. "Who have you taken a liking to?"
Saint Charlmaco's flat, broad face slowly turned as he inspected the pirates kneeling on both sides.
Then—
his expression changed.
Something felt… wrong.
Three meters in front of him, there was someone standing.
Standing.
How could that be?
He was a Celestial Dragon. Every commoner had to kneel when they saw him.
How could anyone stand in front of him?
Even his own subordinates didn't dare stand that close without permission.
The kneeling pirates on both sides noticed it too.
At some point, someone had appeared directly in front of the Celestial Dragon—standing stiffly, unmoving, with a faint, unmistakable killing intent leaking from his body.
Who was this idiot? Trying to die?
Hadn't he just watched the torture?
But more than a few pirates felt a wicked satisfaction.
Good.
A sacrificial lamb to distract the Celestial Dragon—so they wouldn't be dragged off as the next "mount."
"You bastard!" Saint Charlmaco shouted, enraged. "You dare refuse to kneel before the great me? You're courting death!"
He yanked a hunting gun from his waist—a gun encrusted with gold and jewels—and aimed straight at the figure.
Bang! Bang!
Two shots rang out.
Yet to Saint Charlmaco's shock, the man didn't move an inch.
No injury. No reaction.
"Oh?" Saint Charlmaco's eyes bulged, his expression vacant, almost stupid.
Then—like he'd just discovered a priceless treasure—he shrieked in delight.
"Found it! Found it! The perfect slave for me! Even bullets can't kill him—this is exactly the kind of slave I need!"
"Seize this filthy commoner immediately and bring him back to Mary Geoise!"
Saint Charlmaco danced with excitement, convinced he'd found a treasure.
A slave who was immune to blades and bullets.
Wonderful.
With a slave like that, he could return to Mary Geoise and test all kinds of tortures without worrying the toy would break too quickly.
But then—
something felt wrong.
After giving the order, for the first time in his life… no one responded.
"Hmm?" Saint Charlmaco's face twisted. "You trash—didn't you hear the great me's command?"
He was furious.
He turned, ready to slap his personal attendant across the face—
and froze.
At some point, the hundreds of servants behind him were all lying on the ground, eyes rolled white, unconscious.
"Damn it! Who did this?! Which bastard did this?!"
"To dare lay hands on the great me's slaves—you're dead!"
With Saint Charlmaco's intelligence, he clearly had no idea what Conqueror's Haki was.
"W-what… what is happening?"
"Conqueror's Haki…?"
"Who did this—someone's trying to attack a Celestial Dragon?!"
The pirates finally realized what was going on.
Someone had actually attacked a Celestial Dragon on purpose.
Was he tired of living?!
"T-that face… look—look at that face…"
A sharp-eyed pirate spotted it first.
The man standing before Saint Charlmaco wasn't anyone else.
It was the pirate who'd become famous these past few days, the one with a bounty over 500 million—
[The Most Wicked] Rono!
"'The Most Wicked' Rono—was it him?!"
"First he hit the Heavenly Tribute, and now he's going after a Celestial Dragon?!"
"Doesn't he know he'll be hunted endlessly by a Marine Admiral if he lays a hand on a Celestial Dragon?!"