The Black Hand Clan

Roy stared expressionlessly at a certain earl standing to the side, rubbing his hands with an awkward grin. If his body had been digitized, numbers would have been continuously floating above his head right then: Anger +1, Anger +10, Anger +100, Anger MAX. Bang. Anger had exceeded the limit and could no longer be calculated. Congratulations, host, you have transformed into a Super Saiyan.

"Lord Roy, I wonder if you're satisfied? If there's anything you like, there's no need to tell me—just take it back with you directly. Hehehe." Albert said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Satisfied. I'm extremely satisfied. I wonder who arranged this little performance?" Roy's voice carried a chilling edge.

Albert only felt a hint of coldness around him. Pulling his clothes tighter, he laughed. "Naturally, it was my idea. The others originally wanted to arrange for some young girls to receive you—ptui, what nonsense. How could they possibly let..."

Before Albert could finish speaking, his body went limp and collapsed to the floor. The other nobles trembled inwardly. "It's over. It's fucking over. That demon before us is definitely about to begin a massacre."

However, several people standing nearby wore strange expressions. Earl Albert appeared to still be breathing, and there was even a faint snore. His face was flushed, as though he had fallen asleep—and was having an erotic dream at that. They could not help but sigh inwardly. Earl Albert truly was an extraordinary man.

Roy, meanwhile, sneered inwardly. "Heh heh, do you think I'd kill him? I'm a civilized man. How could I use such crude methods to punish someone? I merely arranged one hundred million ironclad straight men in his dreams. Once he has enjoyed all one hundred million of them, he'll naturally wake up. By then, I guarantee he'll feel like vomiting whenever he sees a man. Heh heh heh."

"Eh, but how long will he have to stay asleep to get through one hundred million? Hmm, forget it. Too troublesome. I can't be bothered to think about it."

After Roy stated that he wanted to visit the Black Hand Clan Residence, the Gilia Kingdom, now skittish as startled birds, patted their chests and promised that no matter what weapon Roy wished to forge, they would spare no effort in gathering the necessary materials.

Naturally, Roy could not bring a whole crowd along with him, so he had the king properly entertain his subordinates. After all, although his crew's loyalty to him had reached the absolute limit following their dream modifications, they were still living people in every other respect and retained pirates' instinct to enjoy life while they could.

With someone to lead the way, Roy quickly found the Black Hand Clan, which was renowned even throughout the North Blue. It was not located in some bustling city, but deep within a quiet forest, surrounded by babbling streams. Had Roy's group of uninvited guests not appeared, this place would have been a secluded paradise.

When the gatekeeping disciples saw Roy and his group arrive with such imposing momentum, they were startled. One disciple went to report their arrival to the clan elders, while another nervously tried to stop Roy from entering. But when Patch behind Roy widened his huge bell-like eyes, the disciple hastily withdrew the right hand he had only half raised, clutching it to his chest like a frightened little deer.

If a delicate, beautiful young girl had made that gesture, it would have been a picture-perfect sight. But when a burly muscleman did it, it was somewhat nauseating. Fortunately, the Black Hand Clan responded quickly. Before Roy could force his way in, the elder in charge had already rushed out.

"Honored guests, please forgive us for failing to welcome you from afar. This way, please."

After entering, Roy discovered that the Black Hand Clan truly deserved its reputation as a famous forging family. Every single member was a burly muscleman. Even children only a few years old possessed physiques far beyond the ordinary. As the corner of Roy's mouth twitched, he desperately wanted to ask what kind of feed they had grown up eating.

During their conversation, Roy quickly learned that the elder leading them was called Black Hand Mound, and that he was specifically responsible for the clan's external affairs. Upon hearing this, Roy muttered a few words to himself. No wonder this fellow's hands were so fair and clean, without a trace of the legendary Armament Haki.

According to his introduction, the Black Hand Clan had an illustrious record: they had forged one Great Grade Sword and seven Skillful Grade Swords. Roy was deeply impressed by the hidden talent in this world, while also feeling that this time was probably in the bag. After all, he only wanted to forge a scabbard. That should not be a problem for master craftsmen like these, right?

As the latest guide, Black Hand Mound was also secretly alarmed. He had never expected that this harmless-looking young man before him was the legendary Phantom Sword Roy. As the clan member specifically responsible for diplomacy, he naturally understood what that name meant in the North Blue.

Before long, though, his head began to ache. According to the rumors, Phantom Sword Roy was not someone easy to deal with. More importantly, the so-called master smiths of his clan were all full of bad habits. If one of them suddenly had an occupational flare-up and decided to stubbornly butt heads with Roy, their entire Black Hand Clan might be reduced to ruins.

All he could do was silently pray that those old fossils would have the sense to behave.

Looking at the surrounding buildings, Roy could not help but complain inwardly. The Black Hand Clan truly deserved to be called a forging family. Every one of them actually lived inside forging furnaces. Hmm, using forging furnaces to forge weapons inside forging furnaces—they certainly had some ideas. Were all the Black Hand Clan members this mischievous?

Naturally, Black Hand Mound knew that Roy's group was speechless over the buildings. In truth, even he found these bizarre structures painful to look at. Unfortunately, whenever he had offered suggestions, those old fossils had all looked down on him, claiming that a qualified smith had to become one with his forge, and that only by living inside a forging furnace could one comprehend the true essence of forging. What utter nonsense.

Roy could only console himself inwardly. Great masters had always been eccentric. Nothing strange about it, nothing strange about it.

Feeling the heat radiating from all around them, Black Hand Mound wiped away sweat as he said with difficulty, "That largest forging furnace is the residence of Black Hand Qi, the legendary master smith of our Black Hand Clan. It was also he who forged the first Great Grade Sword of our Black Hand Clan, truly making us the foremost forging family in the North Blue."

When he spoke of Black Hand Qi, his face was filled with admiration. Though he was not a dedicated smith himself, he still held deep respect for the Black Hand Clan's legend.

Roy, however, wore an odd expression. What kind of name was that? Black Hand Qi—was that saying his luck was unbelievably bad? Still, putting that aside, Master Black Hand Qi's abilities had to be extraordinary. Forging in a place hot enough for even Roy to feel a trace of scorching heat was definitely no simple feat.

Kenkon, mingling among the crowd, became slightly excited when he heard this. "May I ask whether the Great Grade Sword forged by Black Hand Master is still here?"

After Roy acquired the Great Grade Sword Kikuichimonji, he had given his own Skillful Grade Sword Aurora to Kenkon. But as a swordsman, the pursuit of famous blades came from the very depths of one's heart.

"Of course it is no longer here. Great Grade Swords are simply too tempting to swordsmen. Our Black Hand Clan could not endure the constant trouble, so we held an auction and sold it. In the end, an anonymous swordsman purchased it for 100 Million Beli," Black Hand Mound said with an apologetic smile.

That Great Grade Sword had only appeared within the Black Hand Clan for a short time, so many outsiders did not know that the clan had once achieved such a glorious feat.

"Ah, what a pity." Kenkon could only sigh.

Although many people believed that a Great Grade Sword should be worth around ten million Beli, if one were truly put up for auction, it would almost never sell for less than one hundred million Beli. And that was only in a small place like the North Blue. If a Great Grade Sword appeared on the Grand Line, selling for two or three hundred million Beli would not be surprising in the slightest. Never underestimate a swordsman's craving for a famous blade.