One Piece: Lord of the Weather Chapter 56: A Month of Operation

After the success of the first operation, Pablo did not sit idle. He sent his n to the roads between the north and the south, watching the movents of the convoys, recording their tis, the number of their guards, and their weak points.

He was waiting.

It was not long before the news ca.

"A new convoy. Four carts. Fifteen guards. Sa road."

Pablo gathered his n. Sa plan. Sa place. Sa result.

They blocked the road. Pablo did not speak this ti either. He saw no need for words. The gunshots were enough.

The battle lasted minutes. The fifteen guards fell, all of them. Pablo lost no n.

The goods were different this ti. Not Silveria Azure. Another herb. Its na was "Verdiana Green". Less valuable, but still expensive.

Pablo called Renold. The smuggler had returned to Sorbet after selling the first shipnt. Pablo negotiated with him. They ended up agreeing on a price of eighteen million.

A good deal. Not like the first, but good.

---

Throughout the following month, the operations did not stop.

About once a week, Pablo and his n would strike a new convoy. Sotis six carts. Sotis four. Sotis two. The guards increased in number each ti, thinking that more n would prevent the disaster.

But they were wrong.

What distinguished Pablo's n was not just brute force. It was organization. It was the plan. It was surprise.

And it was Pablo himself.

In one month, Pablo carried out four additional operations after the first.

Second operation: Four carts, fifteen guards. Verdiana Green herb. Sold for 18 million.

Third operation: Six carts, twenty-two guards. A new herb called "Golden Topaz Leaves", very rare. Sold for 28 million.

Fourth operation: Five carts, eighteen guards. Silveria Azure again. Sold for 31 million.

Fifth operation: Seven carts, twenty-five guards. A mix of Silveria Azure and Verdiana Green. Sold for 35 million.

Total: over one hundred million Beli.

And the dead guards: over one hundred n.

Pablo felt no regret. No guilt. Those guards were part of an oppressive system. They were protecting the nobles' wealth that was stolen from the blood of the poor. If not them, it would be others.

What mattered was that the family was growing. The money was flowing. And Pablo was laying out his plan for the next stage.

---

In the palace of Noble Cross, the major herb rchants of the Sorbet Kingdom gathered.

The room was spacious, with walls covered in gold and silk. Huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling, illuminating the place with warm yellow light. A long table of shiny black ebony wood stood in the center of the room, surrounded by luxurious leather chairs.

On the table, wine glasses were full, and plates of rare fruit remained untouched.

Cross sat at the head of the table. His face was redder than usual. His small eyes glead with anger.

Beside him were other nobles. Their faces were pale, not from illness, but from fear and anger combined.

"This cannot continue." Cross said in a loud voice, almost shouting. "Two convoys have been stolen from . The first was Silveria Azure. The second was Verdiana Green. Do you know how much I have lost?!"

Another noble looked at him. He was thin and tall, with a hooked nose and a thick gray mustache.

"You are not alone, Cross. A convoy was stolen from last week. Seven carts. Twenty-five guards. All died. And no trace of the goods remained."

A third noble, short and also fat, interjected in a tense voice:

"Who is doing this? Ordinary bandits do not have this kind of organization. The guards I sent were trained. They were all killed in less than half an hour. This requires strength... and planning. But no one knows who they are. No survivors. No witnesses. Nothing."

Everyone was silent for a mont.

Then Cross said, his voice quieter now, but still carrying a threatening tone:

"I spoke with so of the farrs. They say they saw no one. The convoys leave... and never arrive. That's all. No descriptions. No faces. Nothing."

"That ans they are professionals." said the tall noble. "They leave no trace behind."

"The important thing is that soone is stealing from us. And if this continues, we will all go bankrupt. Our herbs are our only source of wealth. Without them, we cannot pay the king's taxes. And the king... will not forgive us."

Long silence.

Then one of them said:

"We must go to King Bekori. Ask him to protect our goods. His army has six thousand soldiers. If he sends patrols on the roads, these thieves will not dare to co near."

So grumbled. Going to the king ant admitting weakness. ant paying more money. ant that the nobles were no longer able to protect themselves.

But they found no other solution.

"I will write a letter to the king." Cross said finally. "I will ask him to intervene. And if he refuses..." He stopped. "Then we will have to protect ourselves in our own way."

They did not know who was stealing from them. They did not know how many they were. They knew nothing. Only that there was a ghost striking their convoys and disappearing without a trace.

And that was what frightened them most.

---

In his cave, after a month of continuous operations, Pablo stood alone in the bathroom they had set up inside the cave. On the wall, there was a large mirror. He was looking at himself.

He was no longer the thin child who had arrived in Verona less than two years ago.

He had grown to one ter and eighty-five centiters. At fifteen years old, he was taller than most of his peers. His shoulders were broad, giving him a presence that did not suit his age.

His muscles were not as massive as Marco's, but they were clearly defined. Chest muscles, flat stomach with faint lines, full arms, and strong legs. All were the result of his daily training, which had not stopped since he began.

His long black hair now almost touched his shoulders. He sotis tied it back when he trained. His face had beco more handso over ti. His sharp features, his deep black eyes, his straight nose, and his thin lips. All ca together to give him an attractive appearance.

In recent weeks, he had begun to notice that people on the street looked at him differently. Won, especially, would glance at him with admiration as he passed by them. So would smile. He felt it, but he did not care. He was not here for this, and he did not have ti for this. He had bigger goals.

He placed his hand on his arm muscle. He felt its strength.

He rembered his beginnings. The weak, thin child's body. The lungs that would pant after minutes of running.

Now, everything had changed.

He was no longer afraid.

He smiled at himself in the mirror.

He was not narcissistic. But he was proud.

Proud of what he had built. Proud of what he had beco.