One Piece: Dungeon Shop. Scamming Garp, Reward: Eight-Tails Jinchuriki Chapter 309: Who Dares Use Force Before the Shopkeeper?

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Chapter 309: Who Dares Use Force Before the Shopkeeper?

Silence.

A terrifying silence, a hundred tis deeper than before, instantly shrouded the world. Every Marine, every pirate, even the Emperors in the distance were stunned. They stood with their mouths hanging open, staring at the headless corpse.

A Celestial Dragon... is dead? In public? Under the gaze of tens of thousands? And... he was executed by the Five Elders themselves?!

"This..." Kizaru’s eyes nearly popped out behind his sunglasses. The cigarette in his mouth fell onto his lap, burning a hole in his trousers that he didn’t even feel. "How brutal."

Akainu’s pupils contracted sharply, his veins bulging as he gripped the railing. For the first ti, he felt a genuine chill from those five old n. To appease the mysterious shopkeeper—to show their stance—they had killed a "God" without hesitation! Even if he was a waste, he represented the eight hundred years of the World Governnt’s face!

"This is... politics," Sengoku whispered, his eyes turning complex. Ruthless. Decisive. To protect a greater interest, they had cut off their own limb. This was the thod of the Five Elders who had ruled the world for eight centuries!

On the deck, Saint Rosward collapsed, trembling, his face a mixture of cold sweat and his son’s remains. He looked at the indifferent Saint Saturn, his lips quivering, yet he didn’t dare ask a single question. He was afraid—afraid that if he said a word, his head would be the next to explode.

Saint Saturn didn’t even spare a glance at the body. He slowly retracted his cane, pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket, and gently wiped a stray drop of blood from his hand.

Then, before the horrified eyes of everyone present, the old man standing at the peak of world power turned around. He faced the ordinary little tavern. He faced the entrance where the two Emperors were hanging.

And he bowed his noble back.

The other four Elders turned at the sa ti and bowed their heads in unison. That synchronized movent—that posture of humility bordering on subservience—was like a pilgrim eting a True God.

"Our discipline was lacking. We apologize for disturbing your rest," Saturn’s aged voice, though not loud, carried to every corner. It held an undeniable firmness and a bone-chilling submission. "This trash will be cleaned up imdiately."

"As an apology, the entirety of the [Heavenly Tribute] we have brought this ti will be offered to you."

"We ask that you... appease your anger."

BOOM—!

This scene was ten thousand tis more shocking than the execution. If Charloss’s death was an accident, the Five Elders bowing was a complete demolition of everyone’s worldview!

Fleet Admiral, Admirals, Emperors, Warlords... in the hearts of every powerhouse, only one thought remained: The world has changed. The sky of this sea had completely shifted.

A man sitting in a tavern, simply because soone pointed at his window, had forced the Five Elders to slaughter one of their own and apologize in public! He wasn’t just a shopkeeper. He was a monster who stood above "Gods"!

Inside the tavern, Blake remained in his rocking chair, holding his half-finished iced coffee. He looked through the window at the ship full of trembling old n, a playful smirk on his face.

"Tsk. These old geezers are certainly smarter than that idiot." He took a sip of his coffee, his tone as lazy as if he were critiquing a boring play.

—————

The thick scent of blood had yet to dissipate. Saint Saturn took a fresh handkerchief from a subordinate and tossed the bloodied one into the sea like trash. While killing that fool had salvaged the situation, practical problems remained. Tens of thousands of pampered Celestial Dragons and the massive administrative body of the World Governnt couldn’t exactly sleep on the decks.

"That mountain over there will suffice," said Saint Shepherd Ju Peter, the Warrior God of Agriculture, pointing toward the area behind Foosha Village. It was High Town, the capital of the Goa Kingdom. High and fortified, it was already a place for nobles; with a little renovation, it could serve as a temporary Holy Land.

"Notify the King of that nation," Saturn said coldly, as if ordering a dog. "Clear out all residents of the capital within ten minutes. The World Governnt is requisitioning this territory."

In his mind, the King of such a remote kingdom would probably crawl over on his knees to express his gratitude upon hearing the news.

However, one minute passed. Five minutes passed. Not only was there no King, but not even a ssenger was in sight. Instead, on the road leading to High Town, a group of soldiers in worn uniforms—yet radiating an intense spirit—were setting up heavy machine guns and staring coldly at the golden fleet.

On the red flag fluttering in the wind was a prominent dragon-head logo.

The Revolutionary Army?!

"Those are the Revolutionary Army Commanders, Belo Betty and Lindbergh," Akainu said, walking over with a grim face. "Lords of the Five Elders, you may have forgotten. Two weeks ago, the Goa Kingdom was completely conquered by the Revolutionary Army. Its na has already changed."

What?! The Five Elders’ faces turned darker than if they had swallowed flies. They had moved their entire ho, only to find the "new house" they wanted was in the hands of their mortal enemies?!

"Is this what you call intelligence work?" Saint Nusjuro asked, hand on his sword, glaring at Akainu.

Akainu snorted and hit back hard: "The intel was submitted long ago. You were all too busy cleaning up the ss of that ’God’ to read it, I suppose?"

"You—"

Before Nusjuro could lash out, a suffocating gale suddenly erupted across the harbor without warning.

⌁ Whoosh—! ⌁

The wind howled as dark clouds pressed down. A figure in deep green, accompanied by thunder and lightning, appeared like a ghost at the front of the Revolutionary soldiers. He wore a deep green cloak, and his face bore dark red square tattoos. But it was his eyes that truly made hearts stop.

They were a pair of purple-rippled [Rinnegan], radiating an eerie, divine glow!

Monkey D. Dragon! The World’s Worst Criminal!

"It has been a long ti, Lords of the World," Dragon said, his voice low and raspy yet possessing a calm that commanded the room. He stood with his arms crossed, facing the terrifying lineup of Five Elders, three Admirals, and thousands of warships alone. He didn’t retreat an inch.

"Bold traitor!" Saturn slamd his cane into the deck, his killing intent exploding. "Since you’ve delivered yourself to us, we’ll settle everything here! Leave your head behind, and we’ll take the territory ourselves!"

Facing the Elders’ killing intent, Dragon rely gave a faint, mocking smile. He raised a finger and pointed toward the middle of the mountain—toward the small tavern.

"Using force here?" Dragon’s sarcasm was unmasked. "Have you not learned enough from that single shot just now?"

Those words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over Saturn’s head. The aura he had been about to release was forcibly choked back, turning his face the color of a pig’s liver.

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