"Oh?" Sanji's eyes flashed coldly. "But where's Luffy? Why didn't that guy come along?"
"Luffy?" Zoro shrugged helplessly. "He ate his fill and fell asleep. Thunder couldn't wake him now—he's probably snoring his head off."
"Tch… figures," Sanji clicked his tongue. "The captain's sound asleep while the crew's out here risking their lives."
Below them, more and more bounty hunters gathered. Though their scheme had been exposed, sheer numbers quickly restored their arrogance.
"Only three of them! What are you afraid of?! Everyone, attack! Kill them!"
"If you want a fight…" Zoro shouted down at the sea of faces,
"…we'll fight you to the end!"
Then Zoro spoke a single name:
"Baroque Works."
The moment those words left his mouth, the once-noisy crowd fell dead silent.
Igaram, Miss Monday, and the others turned deathly pale, cold sweat pouring down their faces.
"Y-you… how do you know our organization's name?!"
At this point, Baroque Works was still an extremely secretive criminal syndicate, almost completely unknown to the outside world.
"Hmph. Don't flatter yourselves."
Zoro grinned sharply. "I used to be a bounty hunter myself. Your organization once tried to recruit me…"
"…but I turned you down."
"Members who don't know each other's identities, only code names. A mysterious boss who never shows himself. A criminal group that exists solely to carry out orders."
Zoro's gaze turned razor-sharp.
"That's you, isn't it?"
Their cover blown, the killing intent in Igaram's eyes could no longer be concealed.
"Well, this is a surprise… but since you know our secret—"
"Then we'll just have to—kill you!!"
"Fire! Turn them into swiss cheese!!"
At Igaram's command, hundreds of bounty hunters pulled their triggers.
Muzzle flashes burst like orange flames, and a torrential storm of bullets roared through the night, weaving a deadly net that completely engulfed the three of them.
Clang—clang—clang!!
But instead of flesh tearing and blood spraying, what echoed out was the teeth-grinding sound of metal striking metal—like a blacksmith's forge.
On the rooftop, Zoro and Sanji stood side by side.
Facing a barrage that would have shredded any normal man, they didn't dodge.
They didn't flinch.
A high-speed spinning lead bullet slammed straight into Zoro's chest.
Yet it didn't pierce flesh.
It was as if it had struck an indestructible steel plate.
Pa!
The bullet flattened instantly, losing all momentum before dropping onto the roof tiles with a crisp clatter.
Aside from a small scorched hole burned into his white T-shirt, Zoro's skin wasn't even scratched.
This was the terrifying power of the third stage of the Thirteen Guardians Body Tempering.
Inner breath refined, sinews and flesh forged—at this point, their bodies were no longer human, but living weapons.
"H-how is that possible?!"
The bounty hunters below nearly popped their eyes out, hands shaking violently around their guns.
"We hit them! Why isn't there any blood?! They didn't even move!"
"The bullets… bounced off?! Are they made of steel?! Monsters?!"
Panic spread through the crowd like a plague.
Faced with defense that completely defied common sense, their fighting spirit began to crumble.
Yet in the center of the chaos, the scene was entirely different.
Ronan moved through the crowd like a phantom, ebony staff in hand.
His Observation Haki was fully unleashed—every movement around him mapped clearly in his mind.
"Three shots from the left. Five from the rear-right."
With minuscule shifts—tilting, ducking, sliding—Ronan slipped through the gaps.
Bullets whistled past his sleeves, grazing his clothes but never touching him.
"Ah! My leg!"
"Damn it! Watch where you're shooting! You hit me!"
Ronan's precise footwork threw the attackers into chaos, friendly fire erupting everywhere as screams rang out.
"That guy—!"
A sharp-eyed sub-leader suddenly pointed at Ronan, as if he'd discovered the truth.
"Look! Only the guy with the staff is dodging! The other two are monsters we can't hurt—but this one's scared of bullets!"
"Yeah! He won't take them head-on!"
"He's the weak one! Focus fire! Kill him first!!"
In an instant, the bounty hunters found an outlet for their fear.
Hundreds of black gun barrels swung around in unison, all locking onto Ronan.
"..."
Ronan stopped.
He looked at the dense forest of gun muzzles pointed at him, his face instantly darkening.
"Weak one?"
"Pff—hahahahaha!!"
Laughter exploded from the rooftop.
Zoro sat cross-legged on the ridge, pointing at Ronan below, laughing so hard tears nearly spilled out.
"Hey, Ronan! Did you hear that?! They're calling you a soft target!"
"That's embarrassing, oh great martial arts master!"
Sanji lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, grinning mockingly.
"With bullets this weak, you really need to dodge around like a flea? Looks like those small fries are looking down on you, hah!"
Ronan didn't get angry. He simply sighed.
"Haa…"
He swung the ebony staff once, a burst of force scattering several incoming stray bullets.
"You two idiots. What do you know."
Ronan looked up, his tone calm.
"I just don't feel like letting a bunch of nobodies ruin my clothes."
"After all… this outfit was pretty expensive."
"Clothes?" Zoro and Sanji froze.
"By the way…" Ronan pointed at them, a playful glint in his eyes,
"why don't you take a look at yourselves? Can you even be seen in public like that?"
Zoro and Sanji instinctively looked down.
Under the moonlight, they finally saw their condition.
Zoro's iconic white T-shirt was riddled with scorched bullet holes, dense and ugly—like a tattered fishing net, his muscles visible through the gaps.
Sanji was even worse.
His treasured black suit, once crisp and immaculate, had been blasted into rags.
Sleeves torn, pant legs shredded, even the shirt underneath exposed.
"..."
The laughter died instantly.
A cold wind blew past, chilling their bodies—and even more so, their hearts.
"M-my… my suit…"
The cigarette slipped from Sanji's fingers as his face darkened to a terrifying degree.
For a man who prized elegance and dignity above all else—especially in front of ladies—this was nothing short of utter humiliation.
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