G-5 Branch, Central Training Arena.
If the usual G-5 was a war machine forged from steel, then today, it had been completely transformed by Rehn into a "Roman Colosseum" filled with money, frenzy, and the scent of hormones.
The massive circular stands were packed to the brim, but those seated here were not the rough participants; instead, they were G-5's non-combat personnel, their families, and underground tycoons who had paid a fortune for "live viewing tickets."
Above the arena, dozens of giant imaging Den Den Mushi floated in the air, broadcasting every moment in real time to ten "super live viewing plazas" across the base, as well as certain underground clubs in the New World that had paid exorbitant fees for transmission rights.
Crackle, BOOM!!!
Accompanied by a signature thunderclap, a bolt of golden lightning struck the center stage with precision.
As the light faded, Rehn's round figure appeared.
Today, he wore a custom diamond-studded tailcoat, three sizes larger to prevent bursting, holding a solid gold microphone, his face adorned with a wild yet infectious grin.
"Ladies! Gentlemen! And you beasts who are about to risk your lives for your dreams!!"
His voice, amplified by electricity, roared like thunder and instantly ignited the crowd.
"Welcome to the opening of the G-5 First 'Genius Efficiency Martial Arts Tournament'!!"
"ROOOAAARRR!!!!"
The stands erupted in deafening cheers as ribbons and flowers rained down like a storm.
"Today!"
Rehn pointed his chubby finger toward the luxurious viewing platform in the sky, the "Seat of God."
"Our great, supreme, and all-giving Admiral Haiiroyo will personally witness the birth of the strongest!!"
The camera zoomed in instantly.
On that extravagant platform made of clouds, flowers, and gemstones, Renzo lay on his side on a soft couch carefully prepared by Monet.
Wearing sunglasses, sipping iced watermelon juice through a straw, he looked utterly lazy, like someone who had no idea where he was and just wanted to sleep.
Behind him, Uta softly hummed a soothing tune, Mihawk rested with his black blade in his arms, and ten stunning mermaids surrounded him, some fanning him, others peeling grapes.
Was this a Marine admiral?
No, this was more like a world-touring Celestial Dragon with far better taste.
"Long live Lord Renzo!!!"
The audience roared wildly, as if shouting louder might grant them a bit of his luck.
Annoyed by the noise, Renzo frowned slightly and lazily raised a hand in acknowledgment.
Even that perfunctory gesture triggered another wave of screams.
"Alright! Enough talk!"
Rehn expertly controlled the pacing and waved his hand.
"All 32,400 participants are assembled!"
"Ten special transport warships are ready to depart!"
"And now… let us send these warriors to their battlefields, to their hells!!"
"WOOOOOO!!!"
From the harbor, ten massive warships sounded their horns simultaneously.
The deep, heavy sound resembled the roar of a beast, announcing the start of this brutal selection.
...
G-5 Base Interior, VIP Live Viewing Hall.
This area was specially prepared by Rehn for "premium clients" who couldn't tolerate the chaos outside, especially noble ladies and young misses from allied kingdoms and elite circles.
Thick carpets covered the floor, the air filled with expensive perfume, while attendants moved about serving wine and pastries.
On a massive high-definition screen, split-screen technology displayed each group's situation.
"Ah! Look! It's him! It's him!!"
A noble lady in a luxurious gown pointed at a corner of the screen and screamed loudly enough to pierce ears.
"It's 'Silver Light'! It's Rear Admiral Shelby!!"
The camera seemed to understand and immediately zoomed in.
On the deck of the third warship, surrounded by ferocious pirates and bounty hunters, stood a man completely out of place.
Shelby.
Dressed in a perfectly tailored, spotless white Marine suit, with a coat bearing the word "Justice" billowing behind him, he stood gracefully in the sea breeze.
His carefully styled silver hair gleamed under the sunlight.
Even at a moment like this, about to head into battle, he remained elegant and composed.
Holding a glass of red wine, he tilted his head slightly at a perfect 45-degree angle, gazing at the sky with a melancholic, charming profile he had practiced countless times.
"KYAAAAAA!!"
The VIP hall exploded instantly.
"He's so handsome! Like a prince!"
"Look at his eyes! So deep! So captivating!"
"Lord Shelby! Do your best! You must win!"
"I can't take it, I'm going to faint! Bring me smelling salts!"
The noble ladies blushed and fanned themselves with lace fans, eyes dreamy.
In a place like G-5, filled with brute strength and rough pirates, someone like Shelby, a true "idol-type", was their spiritual sustenance.
"Hmph. A bunch of lovestruck fools."
In a corner, several underworld bosses sneered.
"What's the use of being handsome? This is a fight, not a beauty contest."
"Just watch. Pretty boys like that are the first to die on the island."
...
New World seas, ten warships cut through the waves, each heading in a different direction.
Inside the cabins, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Participants kept their distance, eyes filled with hostility and calculation.
They all knew, once they set foot on the island, everyone around them would become enemies fighting over the ten gold tokens.
"Announcement for Groups 1 and 3."
Rehn's voice echoed through the speakers.
"Group 3, where Rear Admiral Shelby is located, your destination is the volcanic island codenamed 'Scorched Earth'!"
"Try not to get cooked too quickly."
...
Two hours later.
Volcanic Island, "Scorched Earth."
Even in the New World, this island was considered extremely harsh.
The entire land was made of black volcanic rock, barren and lifeless.
At its center stood a massive active volcano, spewing smoke and occasionally releasing streams of molten lava that flowed into the boiling sea.
The air reeked of sulfur; the heat suffocating, every breath felt like it burned the lungs.
"Cough… what… what kind of place is this…"
As soon as the ship docked, a wave of heat hit before the gangplank even lowered.
A bounty hunter from the South Blue stepped onto the rocks, only for his shoes to start sizzling as the rubber melted.
"Hot! HOT!!"
He screamed, jumping like a monkey tossed onto a hot pan.
"This is the battlefield?!"
Others paled.
Survival alone here, without being roasted alive, was already a challenge, let alone fighting.
"Hmph. Trash."
At that moment, a silver figure leapt down gracefully.
Shelby.
Maintaining his cold composure, he stepped onto the scorching ground as if unaffected.
"This level of heat… is perfect for tempering my sword intent."
He slowly drew his blade, its surface reflecting a cold gleam in the firelight.
"Wow! Even his entrance is so cool!"
Sensing the camera, Shelby turned slightly, flashed a confident smile into the air, then vanished into the volcanic terrain.
"Damn it! Show-off!"
The others gritted their teeth and rushed forward.
"Grab the tokens!!"
...
Meanwhile, Group 6, Swamp Island, codenamed "Mud Mire."
The complete opposite of the volcano.
Dense rainforest covered the island, but there was no solid ground, only endless, foul-smelling swamps.
Poisonous insects swarmed, and miasma filled the air.
"Splash!"
One unlucky pirate jumped down, only to sink waist-deep into mud.
"Help! Something's in the mud!!"
He screamed in terror as something slimy coiled around his legs.
"Idiot! Don't struggle!"
A seasoned mercenary standing on driftwood said coldly, "The more you move, the faster you sink. And… you've woken up the locals."
"Hissss."
From the bushes came chilling sounds.
Several giant swamp crocodiles, over ten meters long, slowly opened their jaws and approached.
"AAAAAHHH!!"
Screams shattered the jungle's silence.
This wasn't a tournament; it was survival in the wild.
...
Group 9, Icefield Island, codenamed "Extreme Cold."
Howling winds. Blizzards like blades.
Temperatures dropped below -30°C, each breath freezing into frost.
"Achoo!!"
A group of lightly dressed pirates trembled, frost instantly forming on their hair and brows.
"So cold… how do we even fight…"
Yet within the storm, a lean man with a long blade walked bare-chested through the snow.
His skin turned purple from the cold, but his eyes were icy and calm.
A G-5 recruit, the man once called the "Ghost Sword."
"This cold… is perfect to cool my boiling killing intent."
He grabbed a handful of snow and stuffed it into his mouth.
"The tokens… are mine."
...
Meanwhile, G-5 Base, Temple of Sloth, op floor.
Renzo remained reclining comfortably, surrounded by over a dozen floating screens a high-tech projection courtesy of Vegapunk, each showing live footage from the ten islands.
"Tsk tsk…"
Rehn stood beside him, holding a fruit platter, watching the chaos unfold.
"What a… lively scene."
He bit into an apple.
"In just half an hour, over 300 participants have already been eliminated. This batch really wants to survive."
"Mm."
Renzo wasn't watching the fights.
His gaze rested on Group 3, the volcanic island.
On screen, Shelby gracefully cut down a lava lizard attempting to ambush him, his movements stylish, flawless, even his hair untouched.
"That guy…"
Renzo pointed at Shelby.
"Isn't he trying a bit too hard to show off?"
"Uh…" Rehn glanced over. "That's Rear Admiral Shelby. He does… value his image."
"But look, sir!"
Rehn pointed to the VIP data.
"The noble ladies love him! That last move alone brought in ten million Beli in tips!"
"Oh?"
Renzo raised an eyebrow. "That profitable?"
"Absolutely!" Rehn rubbed his hands excitedly. "I'm thinking of scripting a 'desperate comeback' for him, like surrounding him with hundreds of lava lizards, then having him burst out dramatically. The tips could double!"
"..."
Renzo gave him a speechless look.
This guy had completely lost his mind over business.
"Do whatever."
Renzo yawned and pulled his eye mask down.
"Just don't let him die. Handsome guys who can fight aren't that common."
"Yes, sir!"
The competition… had only just begun.
....
30 Chapter, [email protected]/DaoistJinzu