The short, stout man's body didn't swell up like Ah Yong's, but fur sprouted wildly all over him. Amidst the fur, long, sharp quills rapidly grew out. His face also began to transform; an ugly snout opened to reveal sharp fangs. Soon, the growth stopped. A porcupine stood there.
"You… are dead!" A bloodthirsty grin spread beneath crimson eyes, the short, stout man's voice emerging strangely distorted.
"Ah Yong!" he yelled, his gaze fixed on Wilder, not even bothering to turn his head.
"Understood." Ah Yong nodded, his expression grave. They shared a secret unknown to others: through their combined efforts, they had once killed a Marine Headquarters Rear Admiral. No one knew this secret because they rarely fought together, and anyone who had witnessed their combined power was already dead.
"Let's begin."
Both were in their hybrid forms. Soon, before Wilder's astonished eyes, the short, stout man and Ah Yong's bodies began to spin rapidly, like two tornadoes, constantly drawing closer to each other until they finally merged! Boom! A much larger tornado formed and, without the slightest pause or warning, charged straight at Wilder! In the blink of an eye, the massive tornado was spinning less than two meters in front of him.
At that very moment! A dense volley of sharp, long quills shot out from the tornado. Propelled by the whirlwind's force, these quills whistled through the air like a flurry of blades, all aimed at Wilder!
"Impressive," Wilder remarked, his expression unchanging. He didn't move an inch.
Before the tornado itself arrived, the quills had already struck Wilder's body. Instantly, a cacophony of metallic clangs rang out. The sharp quills, upon hitting Wilder, seemed to collide with solid steel, rebounding and clattering to the ground in an instant.
But by then, the tornado, carrying terrifying momentum, had reached Wilder.
"Die!" A piercing roar echoed from within the storm! The massive tornado, now a concentrated vortex, slammed unimpeded into Wilder's chest!
*"This power…" *Wilder's eyes snapped open, a hint of surprise in his mind, but his body remained rooted to the spot. He allowed the violent force to continuously assault and try to shred him. Wilder wanted to test just how far his physical resilience had developed.
The spinning tornado bored relentlessly into Wilder's chest. The surrounding winds raged, whipping Wilder's black cloak about with loud snaps. His body, under the force, began to tilt backward uncontrollably.
Yet, Wilder's feet seemed anchored to the ground. No matter how fiercely the storm blew, making it impossible to open his eyes and forcing him to grit his teeth, his feet remained firmly planted, not shifting an inch.
Gradually, the tornado's rotation began to slow, and the force within it started to dissipate.
Wilder's body straightened.
The tornado completely dispersed, revealing two battered figures who collapsed to the ground, looking up at Wilder in terror.
A large, circular hole had been torn through the black cloak on his chest, revealing the solid, broad pectoral muscles beneath. On his skin, a metallic sheen flashed for an instant.
By now, Wilder had mastered the Six Powers to their absolute limit. Even a common technique like Iron Body could render his physique as hard as true steel.
The skin on his chest was slightly reddened, and though a bit abraded, it was nothing serious.
At this point, Wilder had a rough assessment of his own physical strength.
He looked down, his calm eyes meeting those of the two men on the ground.
The moment their gazes met Wilder's, both men's expressions changed. They immediately sprang into action, leaping away and putting distance between them, watching Wilder warily from afar.
"Well, playtime's over."
As his words fell, Wilder's body vanished. When he reappeared, he was already in front of the two. His towering figure left them no room to resist or escape. He grabbed one with each hand and slammed them heavily onto the ground.
His hands clamped onto the napes of their necks, pressing their faces into the dirt.
"I'll give you two choices now. One, work for me. Two, die," Wilder stated, his voice as calm as still water, looking at the two men who lay like dead dogs on the ground.
The two on the ground struggled desperately. The short, stout man lifted his bloodshot eyes and glared at Wilder. "You're dead! That personage will avenge us!"
Such a response needed no further judgment.
"Is that so…" Wilder said faintly. "What a pity."
As he spoke, his hands tightened without hesitation. Crack! Crack! The heads of the two men lolled limply.
Wilder released his grip, straightened up, and his gaze fell upon the small box on the ground. He walked over and picked it up.
Opening the box, he saw a fruit covered in mysterious patterns lying quietly within.
*"This is it…" *A hint of a smile touched Wilder's eyes. He had seen this fruit in the information he'd brought back from the Marines.
It was a wine-red fruit, shaped somewhat like a muskmelon, with swirling spiral patterns—alluring and mystical.
"My luck isn't bad."
Taking the fruit, Wilder dispatched all of the short, stout man's underlings, who were already stunned into inaction. Then, he boarded their ship and, after a quick inspection, violently tore open a crate filled with cargo. Inside, to his surprise, were countless gold jewels and antiques.
"A tribute? Or profits from their enterprise being handed over?" Wilder mused for a moment, then dismissed it.
With a wave of his hand, a surging swamp instantly enveloped the cargo, swallowing it whole.
Afterward, Wilder cleaned up the battlefield, tossing all the corpses into the sea. With this unexpected windfall and the Devil Fruit, he returned to his inn.
Without any regard for Little Aisha, who was sleeping soundly, Wilder directly picked her up and gave her a rough shake, jolting her from her groggy state into full wakefulness.
"Uncle…" Little Aisha, unsure what madness had possessed him this time, rubbed her eyes and glared up at Wilder.
"Eat this." Wilder, completely ignoring Aisha's expression, took out the Devil Fruit, held it in front of her, and said flatly.
"What's this?" Little Aisha's eyes widened into perfect circles as she stared at the strange fruit before her, asking with curiosity.
"A Devil Fruit," Wilder replied after a moment's thought, deciding to be direct.
"Oh…" Little Aisha mumbled, then casually tried to sidle towards the door.
Wilder's eyebrow twitched. He reached out and snagged her by the back of her collar.
"Ah! I won't eat it! I won't eat it! I won't eat it!" Little Aisha shook her head frantically, struggling with all her might, arms and legs flailing. "You don't have a choice." Wilder forcibly shoved the entire Devil Fruit into her mouth. With a gulp, it slid down her throat. Little Aisha instantly froze, as if stupefied.
Her little face went from white to red, from red to green, from green to a sickly blue, and then…
"Bleargh! …Waaah!"
Half an hour later, Little Aisha was glaring resentfully at Wilder.
"Try to activate your ability," Wilder said, seemingly oblivious, sitting on the sofa and facing her.
"Oh…" Although she still held a grudge, Little Aisha still listened to Wilder's words.
Filled with indignation from having eaten something that tasted worse than dung, Little Aisha slid off the sofa. Her small feet landed on the floor, and her eyes scanned the table before she picked up an ashtray.
Voom…
The ashtray in Little Aisha's hand began to expand continuously. In the blink of an eye, it had grown to nearly the size of the table beneath it.
"That's enough," Wilder called out in a timely manner, as he had already spotted cracks forming on the ashtray. If it expanded any further, it would likely shatter.
Little Aisha held the table-sized ashtray in her small hands, yet it didn't seem heavy at all.
Wilder reached out and flicked the ashtray with his finger. The spot he flicked dented like bread before springing back.
Even though she now knew what kind of Devil Fruit she had eaten, watching this scene still made Little Aisha's eyes widen in astonishment. "Amazing…!"
Kids will be kids. Just moments ago, she was acting like it was the end of the world, and now she was completely absorbed in playing with her new power, having a grand time.
Wilder sat on the sofa, watching Little Aisha wander around the room, occasionally reaching out to enlarge lamps, shoes, pillows, and other such items. He couldn't help but feel a sense of amusement.
Wilder had known what ability this Devil Fruit granted the moment he obtained it.
This fruit was called the Ferment-Ferment Fruit. Its power was to make anything it touched ferment and expand, like bread. The longer the contact, the greater the expansion. It worked on any solid object, including people. As for what other applications could be developed from it, Wilder wasn't sure. That would all depend on Little Aisha's own exploration.
It certainly had combat potential, but Wilder felt it leaned more towards a support role. Then again, who could say for sure with these things? Imagine, in a fight, fermenting one of an opponent's feet. Wouldn't they lose their balance? If they couldn't even stand, what use would their fighting strength be? You could just walk over with a knife and finish them off.
Having settled Aisha's matter, Wilder felt it was about time to move on. They had stayed on the island for a few days, during which the disappearance of the black market's owner had naturally been discovered, unwittingly triggering an internal power struggle on the island.
At this point, spending his days either eating and strolling around or watching the firefights outside his window had become dull. Wilder thought about it and decided it was time to leave.
The situation in the East Blue was growing increasingly tense. On this day, just as Wilder had boarded his small ship, he received a call from Claire.
"Boss, all preparations are complete. The Black Serpent Merchant Guild's commercial teams have covertly arrived at their designated locations, ready to establish branches at any moment."
"Understood," Wilder replied calmly and hung up.
Lifting his head, he gazed at the azure sky above. A grin suddenly spread across Wilder's face. "The time… is right."
Today was the 6th. Then… let's set it for the night of the 7th.
Wilder withdrew his gaze, his expression turning ice-cold.
Everything was ready. All that was needed now was to give everyone a little time to prepare themselves mentally. For that, one night was more than enough.
"The Boss has confirmed the operation will commence tomorrow night. Everyone, prepare yourselves," Claire immediately relayed Wilder's reply to all senior cadres.
Throughout the East Blue, undercurrents surged. A tense atmosphere swept across the various sea regions, and many nations and factions found themselves embroiled in internal conflicts.
All of this was being silently controlled and monitored by a clandestine force.
At this time, the Grand Line was far from peaceful. The number of pirates pouring in from various seas had sharply increased. The New World was also witnessing a scene of warring factions, with pirate crews, led by the Four Emperors, plunging it into chaos. The situation became even more tumultuous after the newly appointed, hot-tempered Fleet Admiral Akainu of Marine Headquarters joined the fray. Marine Headquarters and the World Government were stretched thin, and naturally, their surveillance over the East Blue had weakened.
On the eve of the operation, an eerie calm fell over the East Blue.
The next day, as the morning sun rose, well-armed ships continued to sail out from a certain location, meeting the waves.
One could never be too prepared. Adding more resources to existing preparations for unforeseen needs—this demonstrated just how determined a certain faction was to succeed in the upcoming endeavor.
The night of the 7th arrived imperceptibly. No one knew why this day in the East Blue had passed so peacefully, nor did they know the storm that was to follow this calm.
When the silver moon hung high and night had completely enveloped the land, the entire East Blue suddenly erupted! Like a bomb dropped into a calm surface of water, or like a sand-sculpture fish, coated in egg wash and flour, tossed into a wok of boiling oil, the waters of the East Blue exploded!
"Thump, thump, thump…!" The sound of perfectly synchronized footsteps echoed in the night. A contingent resembling an army… no! A force even more orderly in its movements than an army, appeared at one end of the street!
Uniform black robes, uniform white masks, and slung across their backs, machine guns with ammunition belts wrapped around their waists, and standard-issue longswords.
The appearance of this force was without warning, and so swift that people had no time to react! By the time the local powers realized what was happening, it was already too late. No, perhaps even if they had reacted sooner, the outcome might have been the same.
The torrent of fire that roared out from the darkness left no room for resistance. These black-robed individuals were agile and strong, each carrying a heavy machine gun. Even while strafing, they leaped onto rooftops, giving their enemies no chance to counterattack!
Under the hail of dozens of machine guns, enemies had no space to even dodge. A portion of the force didn't even use their machine guns, directly charging into the crowds with their longswords. Their black robes, merging with the night, made them look like ghostly emissaries, effortlessly reaping lives on the battlefield!
However, what struck true terror into the enemy was the overwhelming firepower erupting from the roaring machine guns.
Screams echoed everywhere under the night sky.
"Pfft!" A man was cut down, but he didn't look at the person who felled him. Instead, he stared fixedly at the group on the rooftops, who were leaping about while firing their machine guns, his eyes filled with bewilderment and unwillingness to accept his fate.
"Who… who are you people? Why are you doing this…?" someone asked, but the only answer he received was the emotionless, cold faces beneath the masks and the roar of gunfire.
This was a silent slaughter.
This… was a microcosm of what was happening in the East Blue.