Half a month later.
Punk Hazard, G-5 Branch temporary command center.
Kane lounged in a recliner, meticulously trimming his nails with an elegant nail file. His posture was relaxed, his expression content.
From the other end of the island came continuous, earth-shaking roars of terrifying intensity. It was Sakazuki and the other two engaged in what was labeled "training" but essentially amounted to "the Foolish Old Man Moves Mountains" manual labor. Every punch and kick they unleashed was infused with the pent-up frustration and rage they couldn't vent after being manipulated by Kane, precisely directed at the innocent mountains.
On the table before Kane lay a black cargo manifest presented by Stussy, with the final tally being—thirty billion Berries. Disguised as construction debris, the cash and gold had been transported in batches through underground routes. Aside from Kane, no one knew the origin of this colossal sum, enough to buy several kingdoms.
As for Sakazuki and the others, their attitude was: I don't know, I didn't see anything, don't ask me. In any case, the base construction funds had mysteriously become ample—why complain?
"As long as the outcome serves Justice, what does it matter if the process is a little shady?" Kane blew off the nail dust, quite satisfied with his brainwashing results.
Just then, a peculiarly shaped black encrypted Den Den Mushi on the table began ringing with a "Buru Buru" sound. Kane picked it up casually.
The Den Den Mushi's face immediately transformed, perfectly replicating Stussy's charming yet slightly awed expression.
"Master, the thirty billion has been fully stored. Are you satisfied?"
"Efficient enough."
Kane offered faint praise, acknowledging the tool's usefulness.
This money just fills the gap from purchasing Sea Stone. By the way, how goes the investigation I asked for?"
"Just as you predicted."
Stussy immediately shed her coquettish demeanor, adopting the professional tone of an intelligence director.
"Monkey D. Dragon formally established the 'Revolutionary Army' on a small island in the South Blue a month ago."
Kane's eyebrows lifted slightly.
Finally.
"The scale is small," Stussy's voice carried a hint of disdain. "Including himself, there are fewer than twenty core members, all rebels wanted by various kingdoms."
"They attempted to instigate rebellions in several Affiliated Countries but failed every time. Currently, they're being hunted by CP agencies, hiding and fleeing—their situation is... quite pitiful."
"No money, no people, no weapons?" Kane summarized pointedly.
"Yes, like a pack of strays clinging to unrealistic delusions..."
"Good." Kane's lips curled into a pleased smile.
Strays?
No.
In his eyes, they were a patch of super leeks that had just broken through the soil, thriving promisingly, and desperately in need of irrigation.
This was the future storm capable of shaking the world—how could he let it die in its cradle?
"Stussy, a new task for you."
Kane's fingers tapped lightly on the desk as he issued the new command.
"Approach them posing as an underground arms dealer."
"I need to handle a batch of pirate weapons previously seized by the G-5 Branch, enough to equip about two thousand people."
Stussy on the other end of the call was clearly stunned.
She couldn't keep up with her master's wildly unpredictable leaps in thinking.
Selling weapons seized by the Navy to the World Government's most wanted criminal?
"You mean... sell them to them?"
"Yes, send a bit of warmth to the Revolutionary Army."
Kane said it as casually as if he were discussing the weather.
"They're definitely scraping the bottom of the barrel right now. As for the price, let's give them a massive discount—just charge them ten percent of the cost as a token gesture."
"If they really have no money, an IOU will do."
Stussy fell silent for a moment.
Though her mind was reeling, as the perfect tool, she never questioned her master's decisions.
"Understood. I'll arrange it flawlessly—it won't be traced back to you."
"Also."
As if remembering something, Kane pulled a book he had prepared long ago from a drawer.
"I have a 'special gift' here. Send a reliable person to deliver it personally into Dragon's hands."
...
One week later.
West Blue, a hidden cove on a nameless deserted island.
Amidst the howling sea wind, a man in a green hooded cloak listened to his subordinate's desperate report.
"Mr. Dragon, the last of our money is only enough to buy thirty old flintlock rifles and two crates of damp ammunition!"
"Yesterday, Jess's leg was broken by CP agents because his gun barrel exploded!"
Monkey D. Dragon's face was ashen, the tattoos on his face appearing especially fierce in the shadows.
The flame of his ideals was being slowly extinguished by the cold winds of reality.
Just then, a lookout came stumbling over, his voice filled with panic.
"Mr. Dragon! A... a ship is approaching! It's flying the black flag of the Underworld!"
Dragon's heart tightened.
A few days ago, they had indeed tried contacting a seemingly insignificant arms "middleman" to survive, but they had no confidence in the outcome.
"Let them approach," Dragon said gravely, his hand already resting on his waist.
Soon, an unmarked black merchant ship pulled up to the shore.
A man wearing sunglasses, with a rough and intimidating face, stepped off the ship, followed by several burly men carrying large crates.
"So you're the so-called... Revolutionary Army?"
The man looked over Dragon's group—ragged, malnourished, and worn—with a strange expression.
"If you want money, we don't have much."
Dragon got straight to the point, his voice low and firm.
"If you think it's a loss, you can turn around and leave."
"Money?"
The sunglasses-wearing man scoffed dismissively, waving his hand.
"Our boss doesn't care about such a small amount. He said this batch of goods is 'half-sold, half-gifted.'"
"Thud! Thud! Thud!"
Over a dozen heavy crates were thrown roughly onto the ground, their lids pried open forcefully.
The breath of every Revolutionary Army member present caught in their throats.
Inside the crates weren't discarded junk.
Instead, they were filled with gleaming new rifles, menacing-looking heavy hand cannons, and even a few small mobile artillery pieces that gleamed coldly in the light!
Dragon and his companions were utterly dumbfounded.
The value of these weapons, on the black market, was at least five hundred million Berry!
"Just pay what little money you have on hand. The rest will be covered by the boss as support for young dreamers," the man in sunglasses urged impatiently.
"Why?"
Dragon's eyes were filled with vigilance; the enormous temptation hadn't clouded his judgment.
"Who is your boss?"
"Don't ask questions you shouldn't."
The sunglasses man pulled out a thick package wrapped in oilcloth from his coat and tossed it accurately to Dragon.
"This was also entrusted by the boss—a gift specifically for the leader."
After collecting the pitiful amount of Berry, the sunglasses man and his subordinates left without looking back, as if staying a second longer would bring trouble.
Dragon stood frozen in place, the sea wind whipping his cloak loudly.
After a long while, he slowly opened the package.
Inside was a book.
The cover bore no publisher's mark, only a few handwritten characters:
"On the Sixteen-Character Strategy for Guerrilla Warfare and Practice 2.0 Edition"
Dragon's pupils contracted sharply.
Trembling, he flipped open the title page. A line of familiar, flamboyant handwriting exploded in his vision like thunder.
"A single spark can start a prairie fire.—Kane"
BOOM!!!
Dragon's mind went blank, then blood rushed madly to his head.
Memories of being "enlightened" by Kane aboard Garp's ship flooded back like a tide.
The words "Instead of futilely pruning the branches, uproot it entirely!" still echoed deafeningly in his ears!
Mentor!
It was Mentor Kane!
He had been silently watching over me all along! He never gave up on me!
These extremely precious firearms weren't some charity from black market merchants—they were supplies Mentor risked his life to funnel through special channels from within the Navy!
The man who would one day make the world tremble now clutched the book tightly, shaking with emotion.
His companions exchanged confused glances, completely unaware of what was happening.
"Mr. Dragon, what's wrong?"
Dragon sprang to his feet, his eyes burning with unprecedented fire.
Raising the book high, his voice trembled with excitement as if proclaiming to the world:
"Comrades! We are not fighting alone!"
"Our greatest revolutionary mentor is lurking in the heart of the enemy, risking his life to nourish us and guide our direction!"
"This warmth... this expectation... this trust... We must never betray it!!!"
...
Meanwhile, at Punk Hazard.
Kane was leisurely enjoying the sunbath while blue system screens frantically refreshed before him.
[Ding! Host detected severely supplying the enemy—selling large quantities of refined firearms at low prices to World Government rebel organizations!]
[This action seriously violates Navy Penal Code Article 117: Crime of colluding with the enemy and treason! Punishable by execution!]
[Congratulations, Host! Obtained massive Violation Value: 100,000 points!]
Listening to the series of "compliments" in his mind, Kane comfortably shifted positions.
Same familiar formula, same familiar taste.
With these 100,000 points secured, he was a big step closer to exchanging for Devil Fruit ability awakening.
Just then, his private Den Den Mushi—whose number only he knew—rang abruptly beside him.
Kane picked it up and saw it was Dragon's number.
He cleared his throat, adjusted his demeanor, and answered the call.
The Den Den Mushi's face immediately displayed Dragon's excited, almost contorted expression.
"Mentor!"
As soon as the call connected, Dragon's deafening roar came through, thick with nasal congestion.
"I received it! Your intentions—we all received them!"
Kane's tone remained placid, carrying a depth weathered by time: "Mm, just some insignificant 'disposal of scrap.' The road ahead is long—you must walk it yourselves."
Inner monologue: Yes, yes, walk on, make some noise! My Violation Value depends entirely on you, my treasure!
"No! Mentor! This isn't insignificant!"
Dragon's voice choked up.
"This is a torch illuminating the darkness! I understand everything now! The reason you remain in the Navy, even bearing the infamy of greed and brutality, is to dismantle this corrupt regime from within! You... you've borne all of this for us!"
Kane's lips twitched uncontrollably.
This kid's ability to overinterpret things remains as consistently outstanding as ever.
"Mentor!"
Dragon took a deep breath and declared with near-oath-like solemnity:
"I can no longer unjustly occupy this high position! The role of Supreme Commander of the Revolutionary Army rightfully belongs to you! Only your wisdom can lead us to final victory!"
"From this day forward, I, Monkey D. Dragon, wish only to serve as your most loyal vanguard! To clear all obstacles for you! I beg you to descend and lead us in establishing a truly fair and just New World!"
Holding the Den Den Mushi, Kane gazed at the distant horizon and sighed helplessly.
Here we go again.
I just want to quietly farm some points—why do you keep trying to "drape the imperial yellow robe" over me?
Ahem.
Kane forced himself to calm down, adopting a more somber and complex tone:
"Dragon, I understand your intentions. But... my mission isn't complete yet."
"Where it's darkest is where light is most needed. The deep-seated ailments within the Navy require a surgical blade inserted from within."
"You are our sword in the sunlight. And I must be the dagger in the shadows."
Dragon fell silent on the other end.
After a long pause, his voice returned, choked with emotion:
"I... I understand, Mentor."
"I won't make such unreasonable demands again. I will build an army worthy of your greatness! And await the day you reign supreme!"
After hanging up,
Kane stared at the now-normal Den Den Mushi in his hand, lost in prolonged contemplation.
This kid...
I just want to cultivate some Leeks, but you keep trying to make me emperor?
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