Two days later.
At this moment, the plaza was no longer just a naval base; it had become the epicenter of the world's wealth and passion.
A massive 3D holographic screen towered into the sky. Rehn had spared no expense for it, even resorting to certain "unspeakable" channels.
It was top-tier technology "salvaged" from a discarded lab of Vegapunk.
The projected images were so clear that even the sweat on contestants' faces and their singed eyebrows could be seen in perfect detail.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Don't blink!! The final moment has arrived!!"
At the commentary stage, Rehn had completely lost himself in madness.
His plump body somehow balanced like a gymnast at the edge of a solid gold platform, waving a diamond-encrusted megaphone. His voice echoed across the entire base and even over the sea for dozens of nautical miles, sending ripples across the water.
"The current New World standard time is 5:59:57 PM!!"
"Three-second countdown!!!"
"3!!!"
Tens of thousands of spectators roared in unison. The sound crashed like a tidal wave, even causing nearby Sea Kings to roll their eyes from the shock.
On the screen, Third zone.
Shelby stood surrounded by hundreds of bloodthirsty pirates.
One hand on his hip, the other holding the crimson blade "Moonlit Beauty," flames roared beneath his feet.
Faced with countless incoming blades, he even had time to flick his still perfectly silver bangs and flash a dangerously charming smile at the camera.
"2!!!
Ninth zone, "Frozen Wastes" Island.
"Ghost Sword" Blake stood atop a mound of ice sculptures, frozen contestants, holding three gold tokens in his arms, eyes closed in calm meditation.
Within hundreds of meters, there was no one else, only the howling wind.
That extreme solitude and chill made many girls watching clutch their chests and scream.
"1!!!"
"BEEEEEEP!!!!"
A ten-second electronic siren blasted through the entire base, sharp enough to tear eardrums.
It was the "closing bell" personally chosen by Rehn. Its frequency caused all the fighters across the islands, locked in life-and-death battles, to freeze at once, as if all their strength had been drained in an instant.
"STOP!!!! All combat is forbidden!!"
Rehn's cheerful voice rang out, almost dancing with excitement:
"The competition is over! Efficiency first! All lucky participants holding a [Renzo Gold Token], please remain where you are! Our 'VIP recovery helicopters' will arrive shortly!!"
"As for those who didn't get a token…"
His tone shifted to one of false sympathy:
"Don't be discouraged! Though you missed the championship, you've passed G-5's recruitment screening!"
"You are now proud members of the G-5 Marine! Sure, you'll be eating mess hall food from now on, but compared to being eaten by Sea Kings, doesn't life suddenly feel full of hope?!"
...
Backstage, Rehn stared at the rapidly increasing Beli numbers on the monitor, so many zeros it made him short of breath.
This "selection tournament + live broadcast + full-service package" was the peak of his business career!
Ticket revenue: 1.25 billion Beli
Global broadcast rights (including the underworld): 2.84 billion Beli
Merchandise (Renzo eye masks, Shelby autograph mirrors, even Isho-style ramen seasoning packs): 890 million Beli
And the biggest profit of all, the gambling pools that spanned the entire sea…
"Heh… hehehehe…"
Rehn hugged his black-gold ledger, his face jiggling like it was dancing a hula.
"We're rich… Lord Renzo… even if we pave a swimming pool with gold bricks, we couldn't spend it all in a lifetime…"
He glanced upward.
Renzo was just waking up, yawning. He removed his eye mask, looked at the roaring crowd below, and scratched his head in confusion.
"It's over? Why's it suddenly so noisy?"
"My lord! A total victory! Profits across the board!"
Rehn instantly appeared beside him, bowing as he reported.
"The preliminaries concluded perfectly! Not only did we filter out true monsters, but our 'spiritual civilization development fund' has also increased by…"
He lowered his voice and whispered a number.
Renzo's eyelid twitched.
He knew Rehn could make money, but not this fast.
"Alright."
Renzo leaned back again.
"As long as the money turns into good food and good sleep… do whatever you want."
...
One hour later, G-5 Port.
This was the most spectacular return ceremony in history.
The once pitch-black, intimidating flagship Lullaby led hundreds of boats and helicopters returning from the various islands.
When the first recovery ship docked, the crowd exploded.
First came the eliminated contestants, burnt black, frozen stiff, or covered in mud.
Though battered, their eyes shone with a new determination. Surviving three days in hell was something they could boast about for life.
Then, the symphony of the strong began.
"Look! That's the winner of Zone Two!"
A figure descended through the air, Isho, calmly walking on gravity waves.
In his left hand, he held his cane sword. In his right, a string of ten gold tokens.
Under the golden glow, his weathered face looked almost sacred.
"Slurp."
The first thing he did upon landing wasn't to celebrate, but to ask a nearby soldier:
"Kid, is the ramen stand still open?"
Next, a streak of crimson light tore through the sky.
Rear Admiral Shelby landed in a blaze of fire.
Though his cloak was torn and his face scratched, the flames around him and the blazing aura of Moonlit Beauty made him look like a god of fire.
The noblewomen went completely wild, throwing checks at his feet like confetti, the sound of money ringing sharply.
"That guy… he awakened a Logia?!"
Even seasoned pirates among the contestants growled in disbelief.
Then came Blake, Galorn, Balger…
Each returning victor radiated an aura that warned others to stay away.
Out of 32,400 participants, only 66 managed to keep their gold tokens.
What a brutal selection rate.
Each of those 66 was a monster who had carved their way through thousands, beings who could dominate even in the New World.
Finally, a scruffy young man in a floral shirt, with stubble but bright eyes, "Sassy", walked off the ship with four tokens, yawning casually.
He seemed to notice a pair of gray eyes watching from above. Instinctively, he lowered his straw hat and blended into the crowd.
"Good."
Renzo stood at the railing, overlooking the 66 fighters below.
"Rehn, go announce it."
"Let the whole sea hear… what kind of life they'll have under me."
Rehn snapped to attention, his face filled with near-religious fervor.
"Yes, my lord!! I'll go right now… and show them what 'Justice of Money' truly means!!"