"Admiral?" Ron sat down across the tea table, legs crossed casually.
He ignored the words of the Venomous Eater.
He picked up the celadon cup with his right hand, the warmth of the cup flowing into his fingertips. His Observation Haki scanned the tea before it touched his lips—no toxins, no chemical additives, genuine Wuyi rock tea.
He took a sip.
The Venomous Eater's white, blind eye remained fixed on him. The swirling afterimage within that eyeball was still there—the outlines of iron bars, corridors, and cages shifted blurrily, like static from an old television set.
"Your eyes are quite interesting," Ron said, setting down his teacup. "Did you go blind yourself, or was someone else blind you?" The Venomous Eater's left hand swept over the teapot, tilting the spout, pouring amber tea into Ron's cup in a thin, even stream.
"The Hand Society's 'Yin-Yang Eyes.' The price is the sight of one eye in exchange for the ability to perceive dimensional rifts." He placed the teapot back on the table, the bottom remaining silent.
"Every time you open a spatial rift to imprison a target, the dimensional barrier produces extremely faint fluctuations. Ordinary people can't perceive them. But this eye—" He pointed to his right eye, "was specifically created for this." Ron's mind raced.
The system urgently displayed analysis results on the left side of his vision—
[Confirmed: The Hand's "Dark Power" resonates weakly with Impel Down's dimensional space. Both originate from "Sinful Dimensional Energy." The difference is: Impel Down uses the purified version, while the Hand uses the unpurified "impurities."]
[This explains why the Hand's toxins can weaken Armament Haki—homogeneous contamination.]
Ron rubbed his thumb against the rim of his teacup.
Homogeneous.
No wonder those ninja swords could corrode Haki.
Poisonous continued, tapping his fingers on the tea table at a measured pace.
"The founder of the Hand came into contact with a fragment of a legend about a 'high-dimensional prison' twelve hundred years ago. It's recorded in our forbidden scroll. The moment you opened the spatial rift on the Crown Hotel rooftop, this eye reacted more violently than all the previous hundred years combined." His white, blind eye narrowed slightly, a phantom swirling deep within its pupil.
"Your 'Impact' and the Hand's legendary 'Gates of Hell'—are different layers of the same dimension." Ron held his teacup, not drinking.
He was waiting.
The Venomous Poison's elbow, used to pour tea, never touched his kimono sleeve; every joint's angle of bend was precisely controlled. This man had sat at the negotiating table at least hundreds of times.
As expected.
The Venomous Poison withdrew his hand from the teapot, interlacing his fingers and resting them on his knees.
"A deal." A single word sealed the deal.
"Open the portal to Impel Down, allowing the Hand to obtain pure dimensional energy. In exchange—"
He held up one finger.
"The Hand is withdrawing from New York and will no longer cooperate with Kingpin."
The second one.
"Intelligence on all Hydra's bases in North America. Addresses, personnel, experimental projects, funding chains—everything. The Hand has been secretly cooperating with Hydra for thirty-seven years; I know their dirty laundry better than Nick Fury."
Ron didn't move.
The tea in his cup reflected his chin.
Three seconds.
Five seconds.
He laughed.
Not a social smile. A chilling laugh from his chest.
"You want me to open the gates of Impel Down and let a bunch of ninjas who've killed people for thousands of years go in and absorb their energy?"
He placed the teacup back on the table, the bottom clinking.
"Venom, do you think I'm out of my mind?"
Venom didn't show any disappointment.
His left hand reached into the sleeve of his kimono and pulled out a palm-sized black wooden box.
The box was placed on the tea table.
Ron's Observation Haki detected it before the box was opened—there was life inside. A faint, rhythmic pulsation. Not a heartbeat.
It was a heart beating.
Venom lifted the lid.
In the center of the black velvet lining, a human heart the size of a fist floated. The myocardium contracted regularly, sixty times per minute. No bleeding from the severed blood vessels—a thin, purplish-black membrane enveloped the entire heart, dark energy flowing along it, maintaining the organ's vitality.
"The Hand's 'Resurrection Spell'," Venom said, tapping the edge of the box with his right index finger. "As long as there's a heart, anyone who's dead can be summoned back." A very subtle tightening ran down Ron's spine.
Venom raised his white blind eye, facing Ron directly.
"Your Impel Down holds the souls and bodies of criminals, right?"
Ron didn't answer.
Venom didn't need an answer.
"What if the criminal's body was already dead before you imprisoned it?"
His finger traced a circle on the edge of the box.
"You fight outside, we wait on the side. You kill them, we take the heart. Your fissure can't swallow an incomplete corpse—or even if it does, we'll pull it out with a resurrection spell." The heart pounded in the black box, its purplish-black membrane gleaming coldly.
"Of course, those already imprisoned aren't entirely safe either." Ron's Observation Haki was locked tightly on Venom.
Heartbeat fifty-three. Breathing steady. Muscles at zero tension.
Not a bluff.
The system popped up a red warning—
[Urgent Verification: Hand Resurrection Spell's Interference Probability with Impel Down Prisoners—]
[First Layer Prisoners: Interference Success Rate 12%.]
[Second Layer Prisoners: Interference Success Rate 8%.]
[Suggested Countermeasure: Upgrade Impel Down's level or increase the strength of the Seastone Seal.]
Twelve percentage points.
Not high.
But not zero.
Ron pushed his teacup aside. The bottom of the cup scratched a shallow mark on the mahogany table.
He stood up. Armament Haki silently spread across his skin, climbing from his feet up his calves, knees, and thighs, covering his entire torso.
The tea in the two celadon cups on the tea table began to bubble.
The temperature was rising.
The passive high temperature of the Akainu template, driven by battle intent, spiraled out of control, heat radiating from Ron's body. A dark brown scorch mark appeared on the mahogany surface of the tea table, expanding outwards from Ron's position.
"You think threatening me will make me make a deal with a criminal?" Venom sat still.
Ron looked down at him.
"The Hand has lived for over a thousand years. How many people have you killed? How many years have you burned the souls of the dead as fuel?" His right hand was spread wide, heat escaping from between his fingers, heating the inside of the teacup in front of Venom until it glowed red-hot.
"Your sin value—3200. In my eyes, you're no different from the scum squatting in Impel Down." Venom finally moved. He didn't stand up.
His white blind eye spun halfway, and the blurry image of Impel Down deep within his eyeball suddenly became clear—the texture of the iron bars, the curvature of the corridors, the arrangement of the cages—all transformed from blurry noise into a high-definition image.
He was interfering with Impel Down using his Yin-Yang Eye.
The system issued a low-level alarm.
[External dimensional interference detected—Impel Down's structure is vibrating. The expansion rate of cracks in the second-level cage wall has increased by 300%.] Ron's consciousness simultaneously touched the interior of Impel Down.
Vibration.
Subtle, continuous vibrations, seeping inward from the outer walls. The entire Impel Down swayed slightly; prisoners in the cages looked up at the ceiling, dust falling from the cracks.
Ron didn't hesitate.
He flipped his right palm, the heel aimed at the poison-eating white blind eye.
Forty centimeters away.
Flowing Sakura.
The internal vibrations of Armament Haki emanated from the heel of his palm. Nothing was visible to the naked eye. The air wasn't distorted, there were no shockwave patterns.
The vibration pierced through forty centimeters of air, striking Venom's right eyeball precisely.
Venom groaned.
His upper body leaned back three centimeters, his right hand covering his blind eye. The illusory image of Impel Down deep within the white eyeball shattered into dust, the scene disintegrating, returning to a chaotic white.
Blood seeped from between his fingers, sliding down his cheekbone to his jaw.
The tremors of Impel Down ceased simultaneously.
The system alarm was deactivated.
"Next time you dare touch Impel Down," Ron withdrew his right hand, Armament Haki retreating beneath his skin, "I'll just shatter your brain." Venom's fingers remained pressed against his blind eye, blood staining a small patch of his kimono sleeve.
He smiled.
The blood-stained fingers were removed from his eyes, a layer of blood vessels floating on the surface of the white blind eye, but it was still rotating.
"Ryuo. Internal destruction of will."
He picked up the white cloth used to wipe cups on the tea table and pressed it against his blind eye. A small patch of the cloth was soaked with blood.
"You really aren't part of this world's power system." His left hand made a gesture under the table.
The ink paintings on all four walls of the tea room simultaneously unfurled. Behind the paintings, thirty black-clad ninjas emerged from the shadows. Their cloth shoes clicked silently on the wooden floor. Thirty short swords coated with purplish-black poison pointed at Ron.
Ron didn't turn around.
He stood before the tea table, his back to the twenty-four ninjas, facing six.
Shi Du raised his uninjured left hand and pressed his palm down.
The thirty ninjas simultaneously sheathed their swords by an inch.
"No fighting today." Shi Du folded a handkerchief and placed it on the table.
"Three days. I'll give you three days to consider."
He stood up, the hem of his kimono flowing flawlessly.
"After three days, if you don't accept—" His white, blind eyes, though bloodshot, remained fixed on Ron.
"Mr. Kingpin promised to give me the complete list of residents of Hell's Kitchen. Seventeen thousand people. Every single one—" He paused for a beat.
"can all become material for the Hand." Ron turned.
He walked towards the stairs. His back to Venom, his back to the thirty poisoned daggers.
Armament Haki didn't activate. Lava didn't erupt.
His steps were steady and even, the sound of his heels on the wooden steps carrying from the first floor to the second.
Reaching the red-lacquered wooden door, Ron pushed it open.
The scent of sandalwood was carried away by the night breeze. The streetlights of Chinatown cast his shadow on the wall.
He didn't turn around.
"Three days? No need."
"I'll come tomorrow and dismantle your altar." The door closed behind him.
In the tea room on the second floor, Venom's smile vanished.
He stood by the tea table, the bloodshot veins in his white blind eyes still wet. Blood dripped from his cheekbone onto the collar of his kimono, forming a dark blotch.
Thirty ninjas awaited orders.
Venom-Eater was silent for four seconds.
"Prepare the altar's defenses." His left hand traced the scorch mark on the tea table—left by Ron when he stood. The wood was charred; pressing his fingers against it crumbled into powder.
"Everyone." The thirty black-clad ninjas bowed simultaneously.
"Go back and tell the men below—from now on, triple the altar's guards." Ron walked down the streets of Chinatown.
Most of the Chinese restaurant signs on both sides of Mott Street were dark, only a few dessert shops open all night still glowing with orange lights.
His Observation Haki remained at its normal level, with a perception radius of three hundred meters.
He was replaying every word Venom-Eater had just uttered.
Resurrection Jutsu. Dimensional Resonance. Yin-Yang Eyes. A list of seventeen thousand residents.
Kingpin's cooperation with the Hand was deeper than he had previously suspected.
Justice score: 10200—third level just unlocked. Viper's Sin score: 3200, enough to be locked in the second level. But Viper's combat ability is assessed at a synchronization rate of 35%.
Five percentage points short.
Ron didn't stop.
Observation Haki detected a signal.
Two blocks away.
A life form was standing on a fire escape staircase in an apartment building. Heartbeat stable, breathing extremely even.
The mode of perception wasn't sight, nor smell.
It was sound waves.
Extremely dense, inaudible high-frequency sound waves radiated from the life form's head in all directions, bouncing off everything around it and constructing a complete three-dimensional map in its brain.
Ron stopped.
Matthew Murdoch emerged from the shadows of the fire escape staircase.
Not wearing a lawyer's grey suit. All in black, a mask covering half his face, revealing only his jawline and lips.
Daredevil.
He leaped down the fire escape, landing on the sidewalk three meters in front of Ron.
"I've been tracking the Hand ninjas for three days," Matthew began. His voice was completely different from the gentle, blind lawyer in the courtroom—low, hoarse, rapid, and trembling with barely suppressed energy.
"They're at the altar beneath Chinatown—not just a ritual site." His fist was at his side, knuckles taut.
"I heard it. Deep underground. Someone's screaming." He took a step forward.
"Many people." Matthew's jaw twitched beneath his mask.
"Ron—the Hand is keeping at least forty people alive." He raised his right hand, pointing to the ground.
"They're experimenting on living people." Ron's right hand gripped the last pair of conceptual seastone handcuffs in his trench coat pocket. The swirling patterns of the black metal pressed against his palm.
The Chinatown streetlights flickered, casting their shadows across the ground.
But below the surface—a depth beyond Ron's Observation Haki—a scream swallowed by thick layers of rock was spreading.