As the sea horizon just began to brighten with the first light of dawn the next day, hundreds and thousands of News Coo flapped their wings, pouring out from newspaper offices spread across the Four Seas.
They carried delivery bags on their backs filled with neatly arranged newspapers. Whenever they saw ships sailing on the sea or islands with human habitation, they would throw the newspapers down with a "thud" into conspicuous places, then flap their wings and leave.
Such a grand gesture of distributing free newspapers only happened under one condition in the entire sea: a major event capable of shaking the world structure had occurred.
After all, Morgans, the boss of the World Economy News Paper, was famously stingy. If the World Government hadn't covered all the costs, how could that miser be willing to do so?
Today's newspaper headline was completely occupied by bold black font—"World Conscription: No Age Limit, No Questions Asked About Origin."
The content was written clearly: Regardless of gender or age, as long as one is willing to devote themselves to the Marines, they can go to the nearest Marine base to register.
For those with outstanding talent who pass the preliminary test, the Marine Headquarters will specially dispatch a warship to send them to the Marine Academy in Marineford for advanced studies.
The second page, however, was completely dominated by a wanted poster of exaggerated size.
There was no name, only two impactful words—"Demon Child."
And the number in the bounty column was dazzling enough to make people dizzy: 5 billion Berries.
This string of numbers was like a thunderclap, causing an uproar across the entire sea.
In the New World, on Whole Cake Island, Charlotte Linlin's hand holding a dessert suddenly tightened, smearing cream all over her hand as she narrowed her bloodshot eyes.
On Onigashima, Kaido smashed wine jars all over the floor. The captain of the Beasts Pirates held a wine jug, threw his head back for a swig, and swept his scarlet eyes over the newspaper, sneering, "5 billion? I really want to see this kid with my own eyes."
In a bar on the Sabaody Archipelago, Rayleigh stared intently at the disdainful infant face on the wanted poster, muttering to himself in a low voice, "Buggy, the new era hasn't completely arrived yet, how did you kid just..."
Even far away on Amazon Lily in the Calm Belt, Boa Hancock, not yet 10 years old, stared wide-eyed at the newspaper handed to her by her sister.
A 3-year-old child, whose name, background, and abilities hadn't even been clarified, had a starting bounty as high as 5 billion Berries?
Anyone seeing it for the first time would think the World Government had gone crazy.
But as long as they remembered the major event in Loguetown yesterday—the deep trench that cut through the entire town, blasted out so casually—everyone fell silent again.
This number was damn reasonable.
At this moment in Loguetown.
In the center of the street, a scene capable of shattering anyone's worldview was playing out: a medium-sized warship capable of holding a hundred people was actually "floating" one and a half meters above the ground.
If someone dared to lie down and look closely, they would find that the bottom of the ship was not empty.
A small figure was curled up there, his chubby arms and legs straight and tense, carrying this behemoth on his back, jogging unhurriedly.
That figure was Broly. His short legs moved alternately, but his pace was as steady as a stroll, not even panting heavily. From 4:30 AM until now, he had been running for a full three hours or more.
By the window on the third floor of the Marine base, the highest-ranking Colonel in Loguetown was clutching the window frame tightly, watching Broly on the street. His eyes were almost popping out of their sockets as he cursed in a low voice, "Mon... Monster!"
Before his voice fell, his gaze swept over the "chasm" not far away.
The Colonel shut his mouth resentfully, feeling that the scene before him seemed quite reasonable too.
"Co... Colonel-sama?" The adjutant behind him swallowed. "That kid has already been designated as a pirate by Marine Headquarters. Are we... are we just going to watch like this?"
The Colonel turned his head sharply, almost slapping his deputy with a backhand.
Damn it! Are you kid hoping for me to die so you can take my position?
"I just received an encrypted order from Headquarters this morning. This matter has been taken over directly by the World Government. The Marines are to hold their positions for now! Anyone who dares to act without authorization will bear the consequences!"
The Colonel barely suppressed the urge to curse, speaking grumpily.
The adjutant and the soldiers gathered around instantly felt as if they had been granted amnesty. They all let out a long sigh of relief, cold sweat dripping down their cheeks.
"Great! Finally escaped a calamity..."
"With the meager assets of our Loguetown, going up against him is just delivering ourselves on a platter!"
"The World Government really has confidence. They must be hiding quite a few ruthless characters comparable to Admirals to dare provoke that monster."
Young Smoker also stood in front of his window, completely unaware of them. Watching Broly jogging with the warship on his back, he muttered to himself, "Damn it... he's already this strong and still risking his life like this. Is he leaving any way for ordinary people to live?"
Smoker would never know that Broly's desperate training was not at all to become stronger.
Even if he lay still, his power would grow wildly day by day. What he truly feared was repeating the mistakes of the original work.
The original Broly possessed the invincible power of the Legendary Super Saiyan but because he never deliberately trained, allowing his body to grow savagely, once he transformed, he would lose control and become a madman who only knew destruction.
"It's like a preschooler getting a peerless divine weapon," Broly thought quickly as he ran. "Power can only be controlled by oneself; I don't want to become a slave to power."
He didn't want to act like a headless fly running amok when he transformed into the Legendary Super Saiyan one day, did he?
But then again, did Broly in his Legendary Super Saiyan form in the original work really count as going berserk?
His berserk state wasn't like Naruto or Kurosaki Ichigo, completely losing reason and becoming a monster that attacked indiscriminately; he could still speak and think.
It was more like awakening a second personality, somewhat like Monkey D. Luffy in his Nika form.
Thinking of this, Broly's face looked even worse. If he had to choose, he would rather choose the former.
But no matter what, he still hoped to master this power himself.
The clock tower's hand finally moved to 8 o'clock. Broly glanced at it, thinking this weight training should be enough.
He stopped, raised his chubby little hand, and casually tossed the hundred-person warship into the sky like throwing a baseball.
With a "whoosh," the behemoth instantly turned into a small black dot and disappeared at the end of the horizon.
The townspeople spying from their houses fell collectively silent again.
Broly, however, patted the dust off his hands, looking completely indifferent.
Anyway, this ship was a pirate ship snatched from the pier yesterday.
He swung his short legs and turned into the nearest restaurant.
The moment he pushed the door open, the originally lively restaurant fell instantly silent. A waiter dropped a plate with a "crash," and the owner keeping accounts turned as pale as paper.
Broly didn't care at all. Under the terrified gazes filling the room, he found a table, sat down, and shouted carelessly, "Boss, bring me fifty servings of breakfast. Put it on my tab, I'll pay you back later."
The owner snapped back to reality, squeezing out a smile uglier than crying, his voice trembling uncontrollably, "N-No need for money! It... It's my honor to serve you!"
Saying this, he shot a fierce look at the kitchen and roared at the top of his lungs, "What are you still standing there for? Hurry up and cook!"
The cooks in the back kitchen scrambled. Before long, plate after plate of food piled up on Broly's table.
Bread, sausages, milk, bacon... piled up like a small mountain. Broly couldn't be bothered to explain to the boss that he would really pay back the money. He grabbed the food and stuffed it into his mouth, his cheeks bulging like a hamster, devouring it voraciously.
He always kept his word; if he said he would pay back, he definitely would, provided this shop could survive in the Great Pirate Era.
After all, ever since the King of Repression shouted that sentence "My treasure is right there," the entire sea had been thrown into chaos.
Civilians' lives were thinner than paper. Crazy pirates could massacre a city for money or women at any time.
Didn't Buggy do that back then?
Whether this small restaurant could survive until he came back to pay next time was really hard to say.
Usually, Broly would be full after eating 50 servings of breakfast. But having trained for three hours today, his stomach was like a bottomless pit. He actually ate a full 70 servings before touching his slightly bulging tummy and letting out a loud burp.
"Get up at 4:30 AM for a long run, finish breakfast at 8 AM, read until 12:30 PM, then take an hour nap..." Broly smacked his lips, leaning back in his chair and muttering. This Turtle School routine was something he had whimsically imitated and memorized from watching "Dragon Ball" as a child in his previous life. Unfortunately, he didn't persist for two days back then before finding it too hard and going back to sleep under the covers.
With his current body, getting up at 4:30 AM to exercise was like child's play.
But at the thought of the word "study," Broly rolled his eyes dramatically and shouted a classic quote from Li Yunlong: "Study? Study my ass!"
Broly beckoned to the boss, who was so scared he almost collapsed on the floor. The boss scrambled over to ask what he needed.
Broly took the paper and pen used for accounting, scribbled an IOU crookedly, threw down the pen, and strutted away.