"Ah... my hand, my hand!"
Saint Charlos's wail instantly shattered the corridor's silence. The guards behind him stared in shock at his right hand severed cleanly at the wrist, blood gushing wildly from the wound. The severed hand on the floor still wore that glaring gemstone ring.
Not only the guards, but even Daz Bones' typically indifferent face showed emotion, a trickle of cold sweat running down his forehead. Rob Lucci wasn't faring much better either. As an elite member of CP9, he understood better than anyone what the Celestial Dragons represented.
They were "descendants of gods," beings the World Government would protect at all costs, a privileged class placed upon the "divine altar." Even Marine Admirals had to think twice before confronting Celestial Dragons. Yet Ryan...
They knew Ryan acted domineeringly, but never imagined he would dare lay hands on a Celestial Dragon - and without the slightest hesitation.
Hancock stood frozen in place, her deep blue eyes wide as she stared at the severed hand continuously bleeding on the floor, completely unable to process what had happened. The warm blood still stained her cheek, carrying a pungent metallic scent, yet it strangely blended with her peerless beauty, creating a breathtakingly demonic allure.
"Kill him, kill him now!" Saint Charlos's wails gradually turned into frantic screams, his bubble helmet tilted to the side revealing a distorted face. "I'll have you torn to pieces! I'll have your entire clan enslaved!"
The guards finally snapped out of their shock, drawing their weapons and charging at Ryan with roars. But before they could reach him, a cold glint flashed as Daz Bones moved first, his arms transforming into blades to meet them.
As an assassin from the West Blue, Daz Bones' moves were fast, precise, and ruthless. In moments, the guards fell clutching their wounds, blood splattering across the corridor walls.
Ryan stood in place, his gaze calmly sweeping over the motionless Rob Lucci nearby. He said nothing, after all, his relationship with CP9 was merely a transaction of mutual benefit - Lucci had no reason to intervene proactively.
"Filthy pirates." Saint Charlos watched his fallen guards, struggling to sit up with his remaining hand. His bubble helmet sat crooked, revealing a face twisted with rage. Instead of showing fear, he glared at Ryan with a condescending stare, his voice sharp with pain and fury. "I am Saint Charlos, descendant of gods! How dare you treat me like this! The World Government won't let you get away with this! Marine Admirals will arrive with warships soon, and then I'll have you all crucified! Your families will be enslaved for generations!"
As he screamed, he pointed at Ryan with his intact left hand, as if he still held the power of life and death over others, completely unaware that the person before him didn't care about "Celestial Dragon status" in the slightest.
In his understanding, merely mentioning "World Government" and "Marine Admirals" should make all "lowlifes" kneel and beg for mercy - this was the "intimidation tactic" that had never failed him since childhood.
Ryan glanced at Saint Charlos, let out a derisive laugh, then turned to Daz Bones, his tone calm yet carrying an unquestionable command.
Ryan commanded, "Hold him down, don't let him make any more noise."
Daz Bones froze for a moment, hesitating briefly. Taking action against a guard and taking action against a Celestial Dragon were two entirely different matters. But remembering that he was ultimately Ryan's subordinate, he stepped forward, his rough hands pressing down firmly on Saint Charlos's shoulders with astonishing Strength. Saint Charlos was instantly pinned to the ground, unable to even struggle.
This overgrown brat, raised by privilege, still couldn't grasp the situation—truly digging his own grave.
"Let go of me! You lowly scum!" Saint Charlos thrashed wildly, his screeching voice sharp and grating. "I am Saint Charlos! How dare you treat me like this? The World Government will never let you get away with this!"
Ryan couldn't be bothered to pay attention to the meaningless clamor. His gaze shifted to Hancock, who was still standing frozen in place. He stepped closer, raising a hand to gently wipe the bloodstain from her cheek. The warmth of his fingertips seeped through her skin as he spoke with a tone of casual teasing, "Such a beautiful face, tainted by that filthy blood—what a shame."
Hancock stiffened all over, slowly lifting her head to look at Ryan with a dazed expression.
In the past, being touched so intimately and spoken to so lightly would have infuriated her. But now, her mind was filled with the image of Ryan swinging his sword at the Celestial Dragon's guard. The "descendants of God," whose mere mention used to strike fear in her heart—this man had confronted them without batting an eye. The question, "How dare he attack a Celestial Dragon?" weighed heavily on her, leaving her without even the energy to feel anger.
He dared to raise his blade against a Celestial Dragon, and even in a blood-soaked corridor, he could calmly wipe the blood from her face. It was then that Hancock suddenly realized she didn't understand this man at all—the man who treated her as his "private property."
His courage was far greater than she had imagined.
Staring at his face so close to hers, feeling the lingering warmth of his fingertips, Hancock suddenly felt her cheeks grow warm. She instinctively turned her face away, avoiding Ryan's gaze.
It wasn't attraction—it was the overwhelming sense of security from having someone stand against her nightmares. It was the unsettling realization that she was developing an unwarranted dependence on this man who controlled her. This loss of control left her feeling flustered and helpless.
"Oh?" Ryan noticed Hancock's evasion, a playful smile curling at the corner of his lips. A mischievous thought crossed his mind. He shifted his steps lightly, moving behind her, then leaned in, resting his head gently on her shoulder. Inhaling her captivating fragrance, he whispered softly into her ear, "Did you think I was handsome just now?"
Hancock stiffened completely, the warm breath against her neck sending tingles through her. A faint blush spread across her stunning face.
Such intimate gestures weren't unfamiliar—Ryan had often taken advantage of his position as her master to do far more inappropriate things. Back then, Hancock had felt nothing but hatred and humiliation, wanting only to push him away immediately.
But now, that familiar hatred was slow to surface. Instead, an indescribable, peculiar sensation spread through her heart, leaving her unsettled and anxious.
"You... don't you dare mess around," Hancock instinctively tilted her head, trying to escape the breath by her ear. Her voice carried a barely noticeable tremble.
Ryan detected the panic in Hancock's tone and couldn't help but chuckle softly. As his laughter gradually faded, he suddenly raised his hand and drew the Seven Star Sword from his waist. Before Hancock could react, Ryan had already grabbed her hand and made her grip the sword's hilt.
Holding the sword, Hancock was utterly bewildered, unable to comprehend what the man behind her was scheming. It wasn't until he guided her forward a couple of steps and she followed the direction of the blade that her pupils abruptly contracted, her eyes widening instantly.
The tip of the Seven Star Sword was steadily aimed at the heart of Saint Charlos, who was pinned to the ground by Daz Bonez.
"Look," Ryan's voice sounded beside Hancock's ear again as he chuckled lightly, "these so-called 'Celestial Dragons' aren't so remarkable after all. His life is now in your hands. With just a gentle push forward, you can pierce through this obese body."
Hancock's pupils constricted sharply, her fingers trembling slightly around the hilt. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, her rapid breathing causing her bosom to heave violently, and her face flushed crimson...