He quickly pulled Olvia down to kneel, foreheads touching the ground:
"Your Excellency! We sincerely apologize! My student and I were just discussing academic matters and became too absorbed to notice your arrival, failing to kneel in welcome... We beg your magnanimous forgiveness for our transgression!"
"Deepest apologies! We were completely immersed in scholarly research and failed to perceive your esteemed presence in time to pay proper respects..."
The Celestial Dragon looked down at these two groveling insects, a cold smirk curling his lips.
"Forgiveness?"
He repeated the word as if hearing something utterly ridiculous.
"If forgiveness were sufficient, what need would there be for my holy presence?"
He waved his hand dismissively:
"Guards! Execute this old man on the spot!"
Two CP Agents stepped forward, seizing Dr. Clover from both sides and forcing him to his knees.
The Celestial Dragon drew an ornately decorated pistol from his waist, leisurely approaching Dr. Clover until the barrel pressed against his forehead.
"As for this woman—" he appraised Olvia: "Take her back to become my wife."
"NO!!!"
Olvia sprang to her feet, rushing in front of Dr. Clover and spreading her arms to shield him.
"You can't kill him!!!"
The Celestial Dragon stared momentarily before revealing a cruel smile:
"Oh? Quite courageous. Since you're so eager to die, I'll grant both your wishes!"
He raised his pistol again, aiming directly at Olvia's forehead.
The trigger slowly began to depress—
Then.
Stopped.
Not by his own volition, but by some invisible force that compelled the cessation.
A heart-palpitating pressure descended without warning.
Like the entire sky collapsing upon every person's consciousness.
The Celestial Dragon's finger froze on the trigger, immobile.
With great effort, he shifted his gaze toward the source of this overwhelming pressure.
A figure approached from the street's end.
Posture erect, countenance severe, with black hair and crimson eyes.
He wore a black-and-gold Emperor's Robe embroidered with nine coiling golden dragons that glittered under the sunlight.
At his waist hung a plain, unadorned black scabbard housing a long blade.
He advanced thus.
Unhurried.
Step by step.
With each footfall, the oppressive atmosphere intensified.
"That... that's..."
A civilian whispered tremulously:
"The World's Strongest Man... God Slayer... Raiver!!!"
At these words, the kneeling commoners trembled even more violently.
If Celestial Dragons were gods they must worship, then Raiver was the demon specialized in slaying gods.
God Valley six years ago, Domon Island three years ago, and recently the rumors of him single-handedly suppressing the war between Whitebeard and Big Mom while severely injuring Garp with one strike.
And now, this legendary man stood before them.
The Celestial Dragon finally recognized that face.
The face repeatedly discussed in Holy Land Mariejois, depicted as demonic, listed as absolutely not to be provoked.
His hand went slack.
The pistol clattered to the ground.
A warm dampness spread through his trousers.
A warm liquid trickled down his trouser leg.
He collapsed onto the ground, his legs completely giving way, his entire body slumping onto the street like mud.
"Qu-quick... protect the Celestial Dragon!!!"
The lead CP Agent was the first to react, shouting hoarsely.
The four CP Agents and the twelve-member Garrison squad rushed forward in unison, shielding the Celestial Dragon behind them.
Some raised guns, others brandished blades, but every hand gripping a weapon trembled slightly.
A man's reputation precedes him like a tree's shadow.
Raiver continued walking forward.
Unhurried.
His gaze swept past the guards, settling on the Celestial Dragon crumpled on the ground, a faint, cold smile curling at the corner of his lips.
"St-stop right there!" the lead CP Agent barked sharply. "Take another step and we'll attack!"
Raiver halted.
"Oh? Daring to block my path. How brave."
As he spoke, he raised his right hand, fingers slightly spread, palm facing the group of guards.
"Have any of you ever experienced... the feeling of having your heart crushed?"
"What?!"
The guards were horrified.
The next second, they felt it.
An invisible hand suddenly clenched around their hearts.
Before they could even cry out, they saw Raiver's movement—
His open hand gently closed into a fist.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
A series of dull explosions echoed within their chests.
It was the sound of hearts being brutally crushed.
Simultaneously, the four CP Agents and twelve Garrison soldiers began bleeding from all seven orifices.
Their eyes widened, mouths agape, yet no sound escaped.
Blood gushed from their eye sockets, nostrils, mouths, and ears, tracing horrifying patterns across their faces.
Then, they toppled over stiffly.
No twitching, no struggle.
Instant death.
The street fell into dead silence.
The kneeling civilians practically buried their heads in the dirt, afraid to look, afraid to listen, afraid to breathe.
The Celestial Dragon sat slumped in his own puddle of urine, trembling like a leaf.
"You... you can't kill me..." he stammered, voice quivering. "The Marine Admirals will be here soon... they won't let you get away with this!!"
Raiver looked at him.
His gaze was like that of someone observing a struggling ant on the verge of death.
"Oh?"
"Marine Admirals?"
He stepped closer, each footfall landing on the Celestial Dragon's frayed nerves.
"Then why don't we play a game."
He stopped before the Celestial Dragon, looking down at him from above.
"Next, I will perform Slow slicing on you."
Slowly, he drew the Black Dragon Blade from his waist, its surface gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
"With this blade, I will slice the flesh from your body, piece by piece."
He smiled faintly as he watched the terror on the Celestial Dragon's face:
"If you can hold on until the Marine Admirals arrive, I'll spare you."
The Celestial Dragon's pupils contracted to pinpricks.
Slow slicing.
He was all too familiar with the term.
He had watched other Celestial Dragons execute slaves using this method countless times.
Using a sharp blade to slice flesh piece by piece from a living person, prolonging the death process, allowing the condemned to die slowly in excruciating pain.
It had been one of his favorite forms of entertainment.
But he had never imagined that one day this word would be applied to himself.
"No... don't... please don't!!!"
He desperately tried to stand and flee, but his legs refused to obey.
All he could do was writhe and crawl on the ground like a dying insect.
"Dead leg! Move, damn it!!!"
Raiver stepped forward and stomped on his left leg.
"Let's start with the face."
The blade descended.
Sssshhh.
A piece of flesh as thin as a cicada's wing was sliced from his cheek.
"Ahhh—!!!"
A heart-rending scream echoed through the entire street.
The Celestial Dragon clutched his face as he rolled on the ground, blood gushing from between his fingers.
Raiver didn't stop.
The second cut sliced down from his forehead.
The third cut swept across the bridge of his nose.
The fourth cut grazed past his chin.
With each falling blade, the Celestial Dragon let out another scream.
He passed out from the excruciating pain, only to be jolted awake by the next cut.
This cycle repeated—a fate worse than death.
On the street, some timid civilians had already fled.
They didn't dare watch any longer, much less risk being implicated by the World Government after this was over.
But there were also bold individuals who stayed, watching from a distance with complex emotions flickering in their eyes.
Some felt excitement, some relief, some fear, and others admiration.
In all the seas, there was probably only one person who would dare treat a Celestial Dragon like this.
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