"Fairness and justice should be held in the hands of a few... yet must live in the mouths of the many."
"I'm very dissatisfied with this so-called 'justice.'"
"So, one day, I will bring true justice upon the seas."
Michael said so.
At this moment, he was serving as the guest speaker for the opening speech of the entire trial, delivering a talk that was easy to understand yet thought-provoking.
However, the court staff who had gone through the process with him beforehand were now wiping cold sweat continuously...
This part wasn't in the plan, was it?
But Michael's short speech was indeed extremely inspiring.
At the same time, it made some of the judges, who had been leaning toward bias, straighten out their thoughts a little.
Of course, only a little.
Overall, they were still leaning toward Michael.
After all, whether it was evidence or motive... Michael's side was far too solid.
And back then, it was the World Government itself that said Tom could atone for his crimes with merit, balancing out his guilt with his contributions...
Now, suddenly going back on that decision, it was truly hard to imagine how they could win.
So, from the very start, this trial had no suspense.
The real suspense... was always outside the court.
For example...
The Knights of God, currently facing off against the SWORD Secret Special Force.
And at the very front of the Knights of God stood none other than Saint Figarland Garling.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, this doesn't look good..." Rosinante looked at the brawny old man before him. Aside from his bizarre crescent-shaped hair and beard, the sword at his waist was the most striking feature. "I wonder what exactly brought the Knights of God here today?"
"...Hmm, are you the descendant of the one who once willingly gave up his Celestial Dragon status?"
"So what if I am?" Rosinante tilted his head. "The name Donquixote... I can't help but feel nothing but sorrow for it."
"Donquixote... clearly a name filled with glory and nobility. How can it be worthless in your mouth?" Garling shook his head. "You're just like your inexplicable father... completely unreasonable."
Rosinante frowned and looked at Garling.
Whether it was emotional control or leadership ability, Rosinante was among the best in the entire SWORD Secret Special Force.
Otherwise, Michael wouldn't have entrusted all the most important financial work to someone carrying a double-agent identity.
"If you find us unreasonable, you could always kill yourself and go ask my father in heaven what he thinks... Oh, my apologies, you're the famed Saint Figarland Garling who once ruled the God Valley as 'the King'! I suppose heaven wouldn't be so easy for you to reach."
"Sharp-tongued brat." Garling didn't look angry at all. "But still too green... I'm not here to fight you, so save yourselves the trouble."
But as soon as he finished speaking, a small arrow made of blue flames of judgment shot straight at Garling 's forehead.
"Oh?"
Garling showed no trace of panic. His right hand drew his sword, seemingly slow yet actually fast, cutting the arrow to pieces before it could hit him.
"This power... must be the legendary Chief Inspector Michael, praised on the seas for years, right?"
"That's right, it's your grandpa me." Michael spread his four wings and slowly descended from the air. "Old man, to be picking fights with my subordinates at a time like this, isn't that a bit unreasonable?"
"I can understand your desire to protect your men... but you're not Celestial Dragons, so naturally you can't understand us." Though Garling's tone was far more civil than that of the usual foolish, bloated Celestial Dragons, beneath that civility was true arrogance, radiating from the very marrow of his bones. "After all, at our core, we are two different kinds of beings."
"Right, your bloodline is far too pure—the original twenty kings, huh." Michael curled his lip. "I'm from some small place in the South Blue, you know, even lived alone on an isolated island with my family... But even we knew, in human society, only pets and livestock worry about bloodline purity."
Michael's lips curved into a mocking smirk as he looked at Garling.
And unsurprisingly, the supreme commander of the Knights of God could no longer maintain his courteous mask and finally lost his cool.
Looking at the man's face, Michael suddenly chuckled...
"Puhahaha, look at that serious face of yours, like you're really thinking about whether you're a pet or livestock."
Michael led the laughter, and naturally, his men followed suit.
Especially Hancock—laughing harder and harder until she fell backward completely, ending up in her classic pose from the original story.
After his brief loss of composure, Garling did not choose to retort but instead slowly drew the sword at his waist.
Instantly, an incomparably sharp aura surged from the scabbard.
Michael's face lit up with joy...
Finally, after all this time, the old man took the bait!
As expected of the Knights of God's supreme commander—his state of readiness was no less than Garp or Sengoku.
But who was he?
Michael!
Chief Inspector of the Marines, Vice Admiral, the third most powerful man after the Fleet Admiral and Great Staff Officer.
"Is it starting? Is it starting?" Michael shouted excitedly at Garling. "You come over—no, forget it, I'll come to you. Everyone knows me, Michael, the man who respects the old and loves the young the most! Old fool!"
...
"Fujitora-san, you're here."
The appearance of "Fujitora" Issho made all of CP9 show looks of caution and shock.
Before carrying out their mission, Spandam had told them a special person would meet them...
But they never imagined it would be "Fujitora" Issho.
On the surface, "Fujitora" Issho was someone who joined the Marines directly after passing the tests during the World Military Draft.
But in reality, he had another identity...
CP0.
"Do you all understand this mission?"
"Find the blueprints for Pluton!"
"Good. Let's move out... For secrecy, until everything is done, we absolutely cannot cause deaths or chaos in Water 7..."
Issho said this, turned, and tapped the ground as he left.
CP9 members exchanged glances.
CP0, usually far more ruthless than them, was telling them not to kill?
They were a bunch of professional spies and assassins, weren't they?
No killing—what, were they really here to become shipwrights?
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