That day, Weiss stayed aboard the Chris and didn't go anywhere. With nearly ten lucrative deals on the horizon, not even the Five Elders themselves could stand in his way.
Unless, of course, they offered him more.
You wouldn't understand how much someone blessed with fortune can love money.
While Weiss waited, a storm had already erupted on Flying Bird Island over what had transpired by the coast.
Newspapers spread like wildfire, riding on the wings of Flying Bird Island's growing news industry. Even those who couldn't afford a copy were handed one for free.
A low-tier pirate stared at the bold headline on the front page:
"Sword Demon Slaughters Six Powerhouses on Par with Supernovas!"
The article was packed with photos. Among them, two stood out most: Weiss dispatching a famed swordmaster with a single blow, and the five others bleeding and wounded. Their pained expressions and tattered states only served to highlight Weiss's terrifying strength.
In the photos, Weiss looked like he was just stretching after a good morning jog.
One pirate gawked at the paper in shock. He recognized one of the six — a big name even in the shady corners of the New World's underworld.
...
...
To Weiss and his crew, these enemies were nobodies. But to ordinary folks, they were titans—unreachable forces.
Especially for those who had long been involved with the underworld. They knew exactly who these six were.
Now, all of them had fallen to the Sword Demon. His legend only grew more fearsome.
At a small tavern—
"Check this out! One of the dead was an enforcer for Feld, the 'King of Loan Sharks.' And the Sword Demon just wiped him out like it was nothing. Insane!" Pirate A said excitedly, though it was unclear what exactly had him so thrilled.
"And that guy who looks like a eagle? He worked for Umit. Looks like the Sword Demon doesn't give a damn about these so-called underground rulers. Man's ruthless," Pirate B remarked.
"You're wrong. He did show mercy. Look—five of them survived, didn't they? He must fear the underground kings too," Pirate C said skeptically, clearly bothered by all the hype around Weiss.
"You're full of crap! He spared them!" Pirate A's face turned red with indignation.
"Oh yeah? Got any proof?" Pirate C replied coldly.
"Tch, don't underestimate me. I've got sources. The only reason those five are still alive is 'cause Weiss decided he'd had enough fun—and those guys paid a fortune to save their skins."
The speaker was shrouded in mystery—not quite a pirate, not really from the underworld either.
"Then tell us—what was the price? I don't buy that those bastards would just roll over," Pirate C said, still skeptical.
"Ahem, well... about tonight's drinks—"
"I got it!" Pirate A declared generously. He'd already become a die-hard Sword Demon fan.
The mysterious man took a sip of wine to wet his throat and spoke in a low voice:
"My third aunt's sixth sister-in-law's cousin's daughter's husband's brother's son works for that new paper. He told me those five were spared because they paid ransom."
"If you don't believe me, go down to the coast right now. They're still there, waiting for the ransom to be delivered." He repeated the point, afraid they wouldn't take him seriously.
Some pirates exchanged glances, eyes flickering with interest. After a short pause, several stood up and left the tavern. It was rare to see such powerful figures humiliated—especially when you knew just how strong they were.
What none of them noticed was a man in a suit, wearing a dog-head hat, quietly slipping out of the tavern too.
If anyone had been paying close attention, they'd have realized—he wasn't drinking. He'd just been eating, leaving a trail of crumbs behind.
Scenes like this played out in taverns across Flying Bird Island. The goal was simple: hype up Weiss's reputation, stir the pot, and fuel the rumor mill.
All of it, of course, orchestrated by Theodore. The people, the newspapers, the drama—it was all his doing.
To spread the news, he even launched an entirely new newspaper business. For now, it only operated on Flying Bird Island.
But everything was done with Weiss's permission. Without it, Theodore wouldn't dare act on his own.
Weiss had thought it over and decided that building his reputation was worthwhile. The stronger his name, the fewer fools would come knocking. He could live a quieter life that way.
Look at Mihawk—he usually sought out those he found interesting. No one dared challenge him. His reputation as the World's Greatest Swordsman was just that overwhelming.
What Theodore was doing also aligned with the Carmeline family's interests. The stronger the Sword Demon's name, the more leverage the family gained.
---
"Young master, here are the latest updates from all our family businesses. Most factions have stopped moving. Only a few remote areas haven't reported back yet," said a mild-looking man in a suit and glasses, around thirty years old, as he handed a document to Theodore.
"Don't call me that, brother," Theodore replied.
The man was Carmeline Slenka—Theodore's older brother, who had been kidnapped several times in recent months.
"This is a critical time for the Carmeline family. Formality must be upheld. The family must speak with one voice. You were supposed to become the patriarch—but you refused," Slenka said seriously.
Only he knew how much pressure his carefree younger brother had silently shouldered.
Sometimes, Slenka resented his lack of talent in cultivation.
"These cowardly hyenas..." Theodore muttered with a sneer, scanning the report.
Even though it hadn't been publicly announced that Weiss was backing the Carmeline family—and Weiss himself hadn't claimed them under his protection—just this short association was enough.
Those who'd been eyeing the Carmeline businesses suddenly backed off.
And if Theodore couldn't secure Weiss's support, he could slowly claw things back over time. But if he did get on board the Chris—then this moment of restraint would prove to be a wise investment.
Such was the law of the sea: power ruled all.
---
Back aboard the Chris, Weiss had been lying around from morning until halfway through the afternoon. Other than eating, he hadn't changed his position even once.
Along the coast, shadows flickered—dozens of people hidden in the brush, watching from a distance. Their stares made the five captives by the shore visibly uncomfortable.
But they couldn't leave. They dared not leave. A woman was watching them.
She looked fragile, almost delicate—but they knew who stood behind her.
Even if she turned her back, they still wouldn't run.
Eventually, Eagle couldn't take it anymore. He shot to his feet.
"What do you think you're doing?" Karina asked sharply, her eyes wary.
"Nothing!"
Eagle took a deep breath, then turned toward the bushes and shouted:
"I see you bastards! If you don't get lost, I swear I'll personally come hunt you down!"
The underbrush, which had rustled like a den of rodents, fell silent for a moment—then exploded into chaos as the watchers fled like they'd seen a tiger.
In truth, Eagle hadn't seen a damn thing.
When he sat back down, Karina let out a sigh of relief. This job was supposed to be Jack's. But once Karina heard it involved a billion berry ransom, she jumped at the opportunity with unprecedented enthusiasm.
Just moments later, the brush rustled again.
Eagle snapped.
"I said—you didn't—"
"You got something to say?" came a cold, low voice.
"N-nope. Not you. I was talking nonsense!" Hawk stammered, sweat pouring down his face.
"Oh. Good."
The man didn't even look at him as he walked straight toward the Chris.
---
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