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Chapter 155: Doflamingo Breaking Out in a Cold Sweat
Click-clack.
Doflamingo walked with his signature swagger on the newly paved flagstone road of Foosha Village, his pointed leather shoes making crisp clicking sounds.
Behind him, Trebol, dragging two long streams of snot, squirmed along stickily like a giant snail.
"Doffy, Doffy! It's much livelier here than I imagined."
Trebol leaned his face close, the rotten, cloying smell assaulting Doflamingo's nose.
"Marines, pirates, the Revolutionary Army... I didn't expect them to coexist here safe and sound. Truly incredible."
Doflamingo ignored his subordinate's noisy chatter.
His sunglasses reflected the scenes on both sides of the street.
The sights lining the street were somewhat magical.
Most of the originally simple wooden houses of the fishing village had been demolished, replaced by buildings of vastly different styles.
Some looked like white fortress styles moved directly from Marineford—that was the Marine garrison. Others were golden-lacquered villas reeking of new money, with two pure gold lions squatting at the entrance; one didn't need to think hard to know which pirate was responsible for that.
One could even see a few people wearing Revolutionary Army cloaks squatting by the roadside, haggling with several fishmen, debating the price of some deep-sea specialty.
"What a mad world."
Doflamingo pushed up the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, the arc of mockery at the corner of his mouth becoming more pronounced.
"Doffy, should we buy a piece of land here too?"
Trebol slurped up that stream of snot that could never be wiped clean, leaning in like a giant mollusk while holding his iconic plum blossom staff.
"The land price here will definitely rise! I have a feeling, this is big business!"
"Shut up, Trebol."
Doflamingo waved his hand with some irritation.
If it were before, he might have been interested in this kind of real estate speculation, but not now. Doing so would only profane his determination for this pilgrimage.
He came here for something purer.
Power.
Power enough to overturn this world and pull those Celestial Dragons high above down from their divine altar.
The group passed through the bustling market.
The residents here seemed accustomed to the appearance of various big shots. Even seeing a Warlord of the Sea swaggering through the market, they only took a second look before continuing with their work.
There was even a fish-selling auntie who, because Diamante's cape swept across her fish stall, pointed a fish-gutting knife directly at the Donquixote Family's top executive and cursed him out.
And Diamante, who had always been brutal, actually just smiled apologetically with a dark face, threw down a few coins, and left in a hurry.
"Fufufu... Rules."
The amusement in Doflamingo's eyes deepened.
This absolute order, this deterrence that overrode violence, was truly fascinating.
Just then.
Doflamingo's footsteps came to an abrupt halt.
The pupils hidden behind his red sunglasses contracted violently in that instant, as if he had seen something extremely terrifying.
His body went stiff as a rock. The arrogant and domineering aura from before vanished without a trace, as if doused by a basin of ice water.
"Doffy?"
Pica, walking behind him, almost bumped into his Young Master's back, letting out a sharp, confused sound.
Doflamingo didn't respond.
He even held his breath.
On his forehead, a drop of cold sweat slid down his temple, flowed across his cheek, and finally dripped onto the dry flagstone road, smashing into pieces.
About ten meters ahead.
A figure wearing a light-colored floral shirt and a wide-brimmed straw hat stood in front of a fruit stall.
It was a very ordinary-looking "tourist."
The figure was slender, even somewhat thin.
Holding a freshly bought orange, the person looked down, examining it.
They looked just like any noble scion seen everywhere, coming to Foosha Village for a vacation.
But Doflamingo's very soul was trembling.
That feeling.
That fear and awe carved into his marrow, originating from the depths of his bloodline.
Even though he had left that place decades ago, even though he had killed his father with his own hands, even though he styled himself as the King of the Underworld.
But the moment he saw this back.
He still felt as if he had turned back into that child kneeling on the marble floor of Mary Geoise, shivering.
The figure slowly turned their head.
They didn't turn around completely, just turned their face slightly to the side.
Under the shadow of the straw hat, a pair of eyes was revealed.
Those were not eyes a human should have.
Rings of red ripples, like bottomless vortexes, or like the indifference of some ancient deity looking down on ants.
There was no emotion.
No killing intent, no anger, and no curiosity.
Just like looking at a stone by the roadside, or a wild weed.
Imu.
That being sitting high on the Empty Throne, worshiped by the Five Elders, controlling the eight hundred years of history of this world... God.
Doflamingo's teeth were chattering.
He wanted to run.
He wanted to turn around immediately and flee this island at the fastest speed, flee to the ends of the earth.
But he couldn't move.
Those red eyes only lingered on him for less than a tenth of a second before looking away.
The figure picked up the orange and paid.
Then, taking leisurely steps, walked toward the other end of the street.
Just like a real tourist enjoying a leisurely afternoon.
Only when that figure completely disappeared at the end of the street.
Did Doflamingo suddenly gasp for breath, like a drowning man just fished out of the deep sea.
"Huff... Huff... Huff..."
He bent over, hands on his knees. Sweat had already soaked through that expensive pink feather coat.
"Young Master! What's wrong with you?!"
Trebol and Diamante were terrified. They hurriedly surrounded him, looking around vigilantly, thinking they had suffered some invisible mental attack.
"Are you okay, Doffy? What did you see?"
"I'm fine!"
Doflamingo pushed away Trebol, who was trying to support him.
He straightened up, the expression on his face twisted and weird.
It looked like extreme fear, yet also like some kind of manic excitement.
"Fufufu... Fufufufufufu!!!"
He suddenly threw his head back and let out a hysterical burst of wild laughter.
The laughter echoed through the street, causing passersby to look sideways, staring at this strangely dressed man as if he were a madman.
"Doffy?"
Trebol was somewhat at a loss.
"So that's it... So that's it!"
Doflamingo laughed until tears almost came out.
He grabbed Trebol's slimy collar and brought his face close to that ugly big face, his voice hoarse and exhilarated.
"We bet right, Trebol!"
"What?"
"Boss Blake..."
Doflamingo pointed at the tavern on the distant hillside, his finger trembling slightly from excitement.
"Is a genuine God!"
Even the owner of the Empty Throne had come.
What did this mean?
"Fufufufufu..."
Doflamingo let go and adjusted his somewhat messy collar.
After the fear receded, what remained was endless ambition.
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