Horn’s pupils contracted.
He understood what Moren meant.
He wanted to stir up waves in the stagnant pond of Sabaody Archipelago, to make people remember that when faced with slave trading, resistance and killing were still options—and that the consequences of that option weren’t as terrifying as they imagined.
“Madman!
You’re a madman!” Horn hissed, his voice cracking.
“You think this will work?
It won’t!
The very top of this chain is the Celestial Dragons!
The World Nobles!
Their desires are the root cause!”
“What good does killing more of us do?
Would you dare lay a finger on a Celestial Dragon?!
You wouldn’t!
You only bully us!
You—”
“Why do you think you’re still alive?” Moren cut off his hysterical rant.
His voice turned icy cold.
His grip on Horn’s neck tightened, cutting off the rest of his words, turning them into choked gasps.
Horn’s roar stopped abruptly.
His bloodshot eyes bulged.
He stared at Moren in disbelief.
Moren enunciated each word: “I ask, you answer.
Do that, and I’ll let you die a relatively quick death.”
“Otherwise, I don’t mind throwing you down there right now.
Let you experience the ‘warmth’ your guests are enjoying.”
Horn shuddered.
He looked at the raging sea of flames below; his eyes filled with terror.
“When do the Celestial Dragons usually go to the Human Auction House?”
“Their usual routes, the configuration of their accompanying guards…”
“Tell me everything you know about the Celestial Dragons’ habits and details at the auction house.”
One question after another hammered at Horn’s crumbling nerves.
“Y-You’re really insane…
you actually want to…” Horn’s voice trembled.
He hadn’t expected the madman to actually consider taking on the Celestial Dragons.
Moren said nothing.
He grabbed Horn’s little finger with his left hand and snapped it backward without hesitation.
CRACK!
The crisp sound of bone breaking was accompanied by Horn’s pig-like scream.
“Wrong answer.
You still have nine fingers left.
And plenty of other parts.” Moren’s voice was cold, utterly emotionless.
Against absolute force, Horn had no room left to resist.
His psychological defenses collapsed completely.
Tears and snot streaming, enduring the excruciating pain of his broken finger, he spilled everything he knew about the Celestial Dragons and the Human Auction House like spilling beans from a broken bag.
Moren listened silently, committing every detail to memory.
When Horn had no more valuable information left and could only repeat his pleas for mercy, Moren nodded.
“Good.
Thank you for your cooperation.
Next life, be more careful.
Remember to be a decent person.”
With those words, he twisted the hand gripping Horn’s neck.
CRACK!
Horn’s head lolled to one side at a grotesque angle.
The fear and disbelief in his eyes froze forever.
Moren let go.
The man who had once ruled the Sabaody underworld went limp on the edge of the stage, eventually swallowed by the weakening flames below.
Taking one last look at the surging fire behind him, Moren’s figure flickered.
He shot through the massive hole he had blasted open earlier and vanished into the Sabaody night.
The auction house burned for most of the night, its flames painting the surrounding sky red.
Later, through word of mouth, this place became the bloodiest and most infamous chapter of the “Black Cat Sheriff” legend.
…
The next afternoon, at Shakky’s Rip-Off Bar.
Sunlight streamed through the glass windows, casting dappled shadows on the floor.
The bar was quiet.
Only the soft sound of Shakky wiping glasses behind the counter, and the slow gurgle of Rayleigh drinking.
Moren sat at a table, his Collection Book—the manifestation of his Devil Fruit ability—open before him, along with a large pile of various dangerous items and weapons.
He was repeatedly activating his power, converting each item into a sticker and storing it in his collection book.
Nearby, Rayleigh watched Moren’s fluid movements—like someone sorting postage stamps—took a swig of his drink, and couldn’t help speaking again.
“Kid, are you really sure about this?
Striking directly at the Human Auction House?
Targeting the Celestial Dragons themselves?”
Rayleigh set down his glass, his fingers unconsciously tapping the counter.
“That’s not like killing a few corrupt Marines and slave traders.
That’s a direct provocation to the World Government.”
“You’ll be hunted endlessly by CP0, the Marines, and the entire World Government’s military machine.”
There was no denying it—Moren’s audacity and resolve kept challenging Rayleigh’s understanding.
He admired this sharpness and conviction, but he also knew the dangers lurking behind such actions.
He couldn’t figure out where this seemingly calm, rational young man got such insane confidence and determination.
Nearby, Lally was helping sort through some odds and ends.
Hearing Rayleigh’s words, she immediately looked up and retorted, “Big Brother Moren won’t die!
He’s the strongest and bravest!
He can definitely do it!”
After these past few days, Lally had come to idolize Moren as her savior and hero, holding complete trust in him.
Hearing Lally’s words, Moren smiled, stopped what he was doing, and gently tousled her hair.
“Lally’s right.”
Then he closed his Collection Book and looked at Rayleigh.
“Uncle Rayleigh, Celestial Dragons die when they are killed, and their blood is red.” He paused slightly, then continued, “What’s there to be afraid of?”
“Besides, I’m not charging in blindly without a plan.
This is a calculated operation.”
“And besides, what the ‘Black Cat Sheriff’ does has nothing to do with me, Moren.
I’m just a young collector and adventurer.”
“My journey has barely started on Sabaody.
Why would it end so easily?”
He stood up, looking out at the bubble-floating streetscape, and spoke in a low voice.
“Now that I’m here, now that I’ve done what I’ve done, I need to make it count.”
“I want to personally shatter the myth of the ‘inviolable descendants of gods.’ To make certain people understand that they weren’t born noble.
Their privileges are not eternal.”
“That way, all this running around I’ve done won’t have been a complete waste.
Right?”
As always, Moren spoke in a calm tone about things that would make anyone’s jaw drop.
Behind the counter, Shakky slowly exhaled a smoke ring, a smile playing on her lips.
“I’ve never seen such an interesting, daring, and decisive young man.
I really want to see what kind of waves you’ll stir up on the seas next.”
“Haha, I won’t disappoint you, Sister Shakky.” Moren smiled confidently.
Rayleigh no longer tried to dissuade him, but his tone grew more serious.
“Your talent is extraordinary.
But only geniuses who survive are true geniuses.
No matter how meticulous your plan, always leave yourself an escape route.”
During this time, through his lessons in Armament and Observation Haki, Rayleigh had witnessed Moren’s monstrous talent.
In just a few short days, Moren had already grasped the basics of Armament Haki, and even Observation Haki—thanks to his natural gifts—had begun to take shape.
Such genius left Rayleigh genuinely amazed, which was why he’d feel it such a shame if something happened to Moren.
“Don’t worry, Uncle Rayleigh.”
“Besides, with the legendary ‘Dark King’ helping me out, what do I have to fear?
It’ll be fine!” Moren winked and smiled.
Then he didn’t linger.
He pushed open the door and left the bar.
Rayleigh shook his head helplessly, smiling, and picked up his glass.
“This kid…
his mindset is steadier than this old man’s.”
“I can’t tell if he’s just born recklessly brave or if he’s so bold that he doesn’t even realize what he’s up against.”
Shakky elegantly stubbed out her cigarette and smiled.
“That’s exactly what makes him interesting.”
“Speaking of which, what did he ask you to help with?
Making such a big scene at the Human Auction House, and targeting Celestial Dragons…
that’s a lot of pressure.”
Rayleigh scratched his nose, a little embarrassed, and laughed vaguely.
“Nothing much.
Just some old tricks and minor schemes.”
Shakky raised an eyebrow knowingly and didn’t ask further.
Only Lally blinked her big eyes, half-understanding.
But she firmly believed that Big Brother Moren’s plan would succeed.
Because he was a good person, a hero.
And heroes never fail.