Half a month passed swiftly amidst the high-intensity operations of the G-5 Branch.
Main building, Finance Office.
Hancock sat on a raised office chair, a pencil in hand, swiftly marking the thick account books that were heavy enough to kill a man.
After fifteen full days of merciless exploitation, this future Nine Snake Empress had completely transformed into an unfeeling financial auditing machine.
Yet the results brought by this high-pressure life were astonishingly impressive.
The top-tier talent and potential inherent within her had been thoroughly squeezed out and stimulated. Combined with Kane's unforgiving physical training regimen, Hancock could now withstand ten of Kane's head flicks without immediately collapsing.
The force of the Admiral's head flick yesterday was two... no, three points lighter than the day before!
During a brief pause while switching account books, Hancock rested her chin on her hand. A rare, unnatural flush spread across her fair cheeks, and her long eyelashes fluttered.
Hmph, he does care for me after all. Despite his cold words, he allocated the best deep sea beast meat in the base to us three sisters under the guise of 'nutritional subsidies'...
This was a complete misunderstanding.
Kane simply found them too thin and weak, fearing these excellent free laborers couldn't withstand the relentless work and would break down prematurely, which was why he specially approved the high-nutrition meals.
Pure capitalist bottom-line logic had been twisted by the ten-year-old girl's self-delusion into a secret, domineering CEO-style favoritism.
...
At the same time.
Supreme Commander's Office.
Kane sat with his legs crossed on the desk, leisurely reviewing the latest progress report on the Punk Hazard Land Reclamation Project.
That Crocodile fellow was unexpectedly useful, his efficiency exceeding expectations by twenty percent. At this rate, the new port area would be operational by year's end.
Just as Kane was contemplating how to create a few more pretexts for generating income, the Den Den Mushi on the desk abruptly rang.
"Pururururu—Pururururu—"
Kane picked up the receiver.
"Kane."
The Den Den Mushi's face instantly morphed into Fleet Admiral Kong's iconic, stern square visage. His voice remained steady, but Kane detected a trace of impatience and difficulty amidst the faint static.
"Fleet Admiral, what are your orders?"
"Notifying you of a matter. Saint Roswald, a Celestial Dragon, will pass through the waters near Punk Hazard in three days on his way to the New World for leisure."
Kane's hand, flipping through the report, paused.
Fleet Admiral Kong's voice continued: "His escort fleet will require resupply and rest at G-5, with an estimated stay of one to two days. On your end, prepare for the reception."
"Saint Roswald?"
Kane quickly searched his memory for the name.
He had an impression, not just an impression, but an extremely deep one.
In the original story, he was the father of Saint Charlos, the Celestial Dragon who was beaten up by the Straw Hat crew on Sabaody Archipelago. This father-son pair were truly exceptional scum cut from the same cloth, their greatest hobbies being collecting rare and exotic creatures from around the world and forcibly seizing beautiful women to serve as "slave wives."
"Fleet Admiral, isn't this asking a bit too much?"
Kane leaned back in his leather chair, his tone laced with disdain and resistance:
"You know as well as I do that G-5 is the frontline military fortress in the New World. This place is filled with cannons and fierce Marines—it's not some sightseeing amusement park in the backyard of Mary Geoise."
"The cannons here don't discriminate. If one misfires and startles our esteemed Descendants of the Creators, who takes the blame—me or the cannonball?"
"Kane! This isn't a negotiation—it's an order from the highest authority in the world!"
Kong's voice dropped half an octave, filled with helplessness. "Saint Roswald's itinerary has already been reported to the Five Elders. He specifically requested to travel along your route."
"...Why?" Kane asked.
"Why else? Because of that 'Seven Warlords of the Sea' system you created!"
A heavy sigh came through the Den Den Mushi. "Saint Roswald finds the idea of taming unruly top-tier pirates and using them like dogs very appealing. He wants to see for himself how you make those Pirate Hounds obey."
Kane fell silent.
A full five seconds passed before he uttered two words into the receiver: "Understood."
Click. The call ended.
Kane tossed the report onto the desk, interlaced his fingers, and rested his chin on them, his gaze turning dangerous.
Celestial Dragons!
According to the system's judgment criteria, any violation involving Celestial Dragons had its coefficient maxed out.
In his eyes, these so-called World Nobles were nothing but walking "Experience Points Packages"!
"Damn tempting..." Kane licked his slightly dry lips, a flash of greed flickering in his eyes. "Too bad it's not time to flip the table yet."
Reason ultimately triumphed over impulse.
The fruits of the Seven Warlords system had just begun to ripen. The promised 500 billion beri special anti-piracy fund from the Five Elders was still being processed in Mary Geoise. And Vegapunk's reverse-engineering of the Pluton Warship had reached its most resource-intensive critical phase.
If he were to beat up a Celestial Dragon now, he might feel great and rake in Violation Value, but G-5's funding chain would snap instantly. The legitimate wealth-gathering foundation he'd painstakingly built would collapse overnight.
That deal would be a catastrophic loss.
"Keep it low-key. Handle it discreetly. Get the reception over with and send them on their way—out of sight, out of mind." Kane set the tone for this incident.
That was his plan.
He stood up, pushed open the office door, and called out gruffly toward the end of the corridor.
"Sakazuki!"
In less than ten seconds, heavy, rhythmic footsteps approached from a distance. Sakazuki, wearing a dark red shirt with a Navy Cloak draped over his shoulders, strode around the corner.
"What's so important that you're shouting like this?" Sakazuki frowned deeply.
"A Celestial Dragon is coming to G-5 for supplies in three days—Saint Roswald. Arrange the reception. Have someone clean up the VIP Suite in the east wing."
"A Celestial Dragon? Coming to a place like this?" Sakazuki exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, his eyes not even bothering to conceal their utter disgust.
"Don't ask so many questions, just make the arrangements." Kane seemed to remember something and added, "Also, starting today, transfer all the female Marines in the base who are even remotely attractive to the internal service area or the logistics warehouse. They shouldn't wander around unnecessarily."
Upon hearing this, Sakazuki was momentarily stunned before understanding the implication, his eyes filling with three parts more disgust.
"Alright, I'll pass it down."
He nodded in deep agreement and turned to leave. He never opposed such practical orders that could avoid trouble.
"Wait." Kane called out to him.
Sakazuki turned back.
He saw an extremely unpleasant smile on Kane's face as he slowly said, "Remember to remind logistics to replace the reception drinks with the cheapest blended stuff. As for the food, take out that batch of nearly expired Sea Beast Meat from the warehouse and have the chefs make it look presentable."
Sakazuki: "..."
He looked at Kane's handsome yet smiling face, the muscles in his cheeks twitching, and finally spat out one word:
"...Fine."
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