At the G-5 Branch port, a brand-new Naval Warship was about to set sail.
"My dearest friend! Are you really not coming back to Mary Geoise with me? Just say the word, and the position of Fleet Admiral will be yours tomorrow!"
Saint Roswald clung desperately to Kane's sleeve, tears and snot streaming down his face, his obese body straining to lean against Kane.
His face, beaten to a pulp, was swollen beyond recognition. Paired with an expression of utter misery, the sight was truly hard on the eyes.
"Sir, the frontline battles are intense, and remnants of the Revolutionary Army remain. As the G-5 Base Commander, how could I retreat from my post?"
Kane wore an expression of righteous solemnity. Fighting back nausea, he patted the other man's shoulder and deftly pulled his sleeve free from the grasp.
"You should board the ship quickly and be very careful on your journey. I have arranged for the most elite troops to escort you all the way, ensuring absolute safety."
"You are truly magnificent! The World Government cannot do without you!"
Saint Roswald was moved to a blubbering mess, looking back every few steps as he ascended the gangway.
"If funds run short, come to me anytime!"
As the warship slowly departed from the port, the compassionate, upstanding facade on Kane's face vanished in an instant.
Expressionlessly, he took off the Navy coat smeared with snot and tears and tossed it disdainfully into a nearby trash bin.
Standing nearby, Sakazuki adjusted his cap brim, thick smoke curling from the cigar in his mouth as he forcibly swallowed the urge to voice his sarcasm.
He was utterly convinced.
To beat someone half to death and still have them feel grateful enough to fork over 350 billion... such skill was unmatched across the entire sea.
Kuzan lazily scratched his head to the side.
Borsalino, meanwhile, trimmed his nails with keen interest, pretending not to witness this absurd scene.
Time flew, and three days passed.
G-5 Branch, Base Commander's Office.
Kane leaned back in his spacious leather chair, leisurely reviewing reports submitted by various departments.
The Land Reclamation Project was progressing delightfully. Crocodile, that free civil engineering Foreman, grumbled and cursed daily on the construction site. Yet, to protect his privileges as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, he worked harder than an ox.
Moria's Zombie Logistics Corps had tripled the port's cargo throughput, an astonishing efficiency.
"Admiral, your black tea."
A sweet, cloying call interrupted Kane's thoughts.
The ten-year-old Boa Hancock approached the desk with light steps, carrying a delicate tray.
Today, she wore a small-sized Civil Service Uniform specially ordered by Kane. Her long black hair cascaded smoothly down her back, and her fair cheeks bore two unnatural flushes of red.
The teacup was placed gently on the desk without a sound, not a single drop spilled.
"Water temperature eighty-five degrees, half a sugar cube added, using the premium black tea leaves you favor most."
Hancock clasped her hands before her abdomen. Her already beautiful large eyes now shone brilliantly, fixed unwaveringly on Kane's handsome profile as if she could never get enough of the sight.
Ever since witnessing that "earth-shattering rescue operation" three days ago, the worldview of this future Pirate Empress had been completely reshaped.
In her increasingly thick filter of holy light, Kane was no longer that black-hearted capitalist exploiting child labor.
Instead, he was a peerless war god who feared no authority, treated money like dirt, and dared to trample a Celestial Dragon underfoot to protect his subordinates!
He was a true deity!
These past few days, she had visited Kane's office even more frequently than his genuine admirer, Gion.
Meanwhile, somewhere on the Grand Line, on a secret, desolate island shrouded in yellow sand.
This was a temporary base of the Revolutionary Army.
Monkey D. Dragon stood alone atop a dilapidated tower, letting the biting cold wind whip his dark green coat into a frenzy.
In his hand, he clutched the latest wanted poster issued just today.
His deep-set eyes were fixed on that long, suffocating string of zeros on the bounty, sinking into prolonged silence.
[Monkey D. Dragon.]
[Bounty: 9,000,000,000 Berries.]
[Dead or Alive.]
Just a few days ago, it was five billion. Wake up one day, and inflation has reached this level?
"Leader."
An intelligence officer quickly ascended the tower, handing over a top-secret document.
"Our mole embedded within the World Government has sent back a message. Saint Roswald, a Celestial Dragon, was subjected to a devastating attack while passing through the Punk Hazard Waters en route to the New World. The entire Escort Fleet was annihilated, with ten elite Cipher Pol Aigis Zero agents directly under his command killed in action."
Dragon took the document and quickly skimmed through it, his brow furrowing tighter and tighter.
"The informant stated that the Five Elders are furious. The surviving Saint Roswald insists that the Revolutionary Army orchestrated this attack. If not for Admiral Kane of the G-5 Branch risking his life to protect him, he would have already perished."
The intelligence officer swallowed hard, his tone unable to conceal admiration.
"Leader, was this a secret operation you personally deployed? It's so inspiring! Our covert forces in the New World are actually strong enough to wipe out an entire CP0 unit!"
Dragon closed the file.
He looked at the skyrocketed bounty poster, then at the fervently enthusiastic intelligence officer. A trace of bewilderment surfaced on his usually impassive face.
He turned to his comrade Ivankov beside him, pointing at the intelligence report. "Did we... arrange such a major operation over in the New World?"
"Absolutely not, Dragon boy!" Ivankov shook his head frantically. "Our main forces are all in the South Blue, persuading Affiliated Countries to defect. We haven't even sent half a squad to the New World!"
Dragon fell silent.
After a long while, this Revolutionary Army leader, who aspired to overthrow the World Government, faced the cold wind outside the window and sank into deep contemplation.
Attacking a Celestial Dragon?
The current Revolutionary Army simply didn't have the capability to cross half the world to precisely ambush a Celestial Dragon. Such an action that would startle the enemy completely contradicted their steady and solid strategic approach.
Who did it? And why pin it on the Revolutionary Army?
A name flashed through Dragon's mind — Kane.
The intelligence said Kane risked his life to save Saint Roswald.
But this made no sense at all.
Given his mentor's strength and temperament, how could a mere Celestial Dragon possibly force him into a "life-risking" situation?
Unless...
Dragon's breathing suddenly grew heavy, his eyes flashing with the light of sudden realization.
This is the mentor's scheme!
The mentor had long seen through the corruption of the World Government, but due to his high position, he couldn't openly declare rebellion.
So, he orchestrated this attack himself.
Not only did he successfully eliminate the World Government's elite agents, weakening the enemy's strength.
More importantly, by pinning the blame on the Revolutionary Army, the Mentor was helping them gain momentum! He was boosting the Revolutionary Army's reputation worldwide! And by leveraging the World Government's bounties, he was indirectly encouraging and filtering out truly courageous and idealistic warriors from around the world to join them!
"Mentor..."
Dragon clenched his fists, his eyes slightly red.
He turned to face the assembled cadres, his tone filled with unprecedented fervor and determination.
"Do not panic! These bounties are a symbol of our strength! Someone is secretly stirring the waters, buying us time to grow!"
"From today onward, accelerate our military expansion! Do not disappoint the expectations of those who walk in the darkness!"
The scene shifts back to the G-5 Branch.
Inside the luxurious base commander's bedroom, Kane was sunk into a soft leather sofa, his legs comfortably propped up on the desk.
On the desk, to the left was a promissory note for three hundred billion Berries sponsored in Saint Roswald's personal name, and to the right was the five hundred billion Berry Stability Maintenance Funds specially approved by the Five Elders.
At this rate of making money, even a money-printing machine would have to admit defeat.
Why bother robbing Pirates? Robbing Celestial Dragons is the true path to wealth.
Hancock walked in again, carrying a neatly arranged, exquisite fruit platter.
She placed the platter on the coffee table, then very skillfully walked behind Kane, stepped onto a small stool prepared specifically for her, placed her soft little hands on Kane's shoulders, and began kneading with just the right amount of pressure.
"Mmm..."
Kane closed his eyes comfortably, enjoying the personal massage service from the future world's most beautiful woman.
His gaze swept over the thick stack of promissory notes on the desk, then to the top-tier tool he had tamed and kept obediently by his side, filling him with immense pleasure.
"Bring me a glass of red wine," Kane casually ordered.
Hancock immediately stopped the massage, obediently fetched a bottle of expensive red wine from the cabinet, poured a glass for Kane, and then held it with both hands, bringing it to his lips.
Kane took the glass, gently swirling the crimson liquid inside.
Sunlight streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling window, casting a glow on his face that reflected an expression full of laziness and satisfaction—the very picture of a capitalist.
"Praise the Celestial Dragons," Kane said, taking a sip and letting out a contented sigh.
"Praise this wonderful world."