E-rank Defeat Completed

Holy Land, Mary Geoise.

"Huff, huff, huff!"

Stella braced her hands on the table, her lips pressed tightly together.

She squatted into a horse stance, then stood back up, repeating the motion rapidly to train. Sweat dripped steadily onto the floor.

After a long while, Stella seemed to have exhausted all her strength. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed limply onto the table.

At this point, moving even a single finger was a struggle.

E-rank defeat completed!

"Not bad. I like it."

Ross's voice came from behind, his hand brushing lightly over Stella's plush rear with unusual gentleness.

A smile lingered on his lips, and the sight of a few traces of blood on the floor only made him more excited.

He hadn't expected that slave shop to treat Stella so well—they must have really seen her as their showpiece.

Good thing he'd shown up in time to become her destined buyer.

Ross effortlessly scooped Stella up in one go; her body felt light and supple in his arms. Stella was naturally tall, standing well over 180 centimeters, and on ordinary days, she cut a long, imposing figure.

Yet against Ross's height, which exceeded the Celestial Dragon average of two meters, she suddenly seemed petite—like a docile kitten nestled in a giant's embrace, fragile and endearing.

Ross always offered post-act tenderness to women who satisfied him.

Carrying Stella, he sat down on the newly delivered ten-meter bed and let her lean against his chest.

"Stella, have you met the owner of that slave shop?"

"A few times."

Stella spoke between breaths. Her inexperience, combined with how long Ross had kept going, meant she still hadn't recovered.

"He was a tall, skinny man covered in sticky mucus. I heard the person in charge call him Trebol."

Stella answered Ross's questions without holding anything back.

Having spent so long in that slave shop, she'd long understood that her future fate was entirely tied to whoever bought her.

Becoming a Celestial Dragon's slave had both upsides and downsides.

She lacked the wisdom or ability to ponder those things—she just wanted to serve Ross well.

Ever since she realized freedom was a pipe dream for a woman like her, simply surviving had become Stella's only hope.

"Trebol... so it's him. I was wondering who had that kind of vision."

Ross raised an eyebrow, understanding dawning.

Trebol was one of Doflamingo's officers. In the future, nearly half the slave industry on the Sabaody Archipelago would be tied to Doflamingo.

But that was a decade or so from now. He hadn't expected Doflamingo to already be laying groundwork on Sabaody.

Still, given Doflamingo's cunning nature, it wasn't surprising.

Ross actually had a fair amount of respect for Doflamingo—his skill and intelligence were nothing to sneeze at. If it weren't for Luffy butting in, he would've done pretty well for himself.

Too bad this was a world that ran on strength and lineage. Doflamingo's birth was decent, but he had stupid parents, which got his Celestial Dragon status stripped away.

With Doflamingo's talent and a relatively weak String-String Fruit, becoming a Shichibukai and playing king of a member nation was his ceiling. Becoming a Four Emperors was completely out of reach.

But for now, Doflamingo could still be useful. At the very least, his connections were solid.

Ross held Stella in his arms, mulling over the idea of working with Doflamingo.

Celestial Dragons could claim nearly everything in the world, but it all came through World Government channels.

If the Five Elders or Im decided to cut them off, the Celestial Dragons would be lambs for the slaughter. Ross didn't want to live that stifled.

He was a Celestial Dragon now—he couldn't end up worse off than some pirate-turned-Four Emperors.

He needed influence. He needed strength.

A long road lay ahead.

Three days later.

Ross was practicing swordsmanship.

The system gave him skills and physique, but when to use what move was still something he had to figure out on his own.

Besides, he wasn't about to rely entirely on the system. Any improvement he could make himself counted.

Just then, Stella rushed in, dressed in a neat secretary's outfit—a black pencil skirt and stockings, her figure graceful.

"Master, CP0 instructor Zephyr requests an audience."

Stella bowed respectfully, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

Her long legs, clad in silk stockings, were slender and straight, strikingly alluring. The tight design of her secretary uniform accentuated the full curves of her chest, as if they might burst free from the fabric at any moment.

"Let him in."

Upon hearing that Zephyr had arrived, Ross's face lit up with delight. He stood up and casually patted Stella.

After three days of his attention, Stella was even more captivating than when they first met, exuding an indescribable charm from head to toe.

"Yes, Master!"

Stella's cheeks flushed as she hurried out of the palace.

Over these three days, she had essentially become Ross's messenger, even trying on various outfits—something she would never have dared to imagine before.

Soon, Stella led Zephyr inside. Behind them, a dozen or so women were struggling to drag several large chests.

"Set those down, and stand aside for now."

Zephyr said casually. The women quickly set down the chests and stood obediently to the side, their every move tense with anxiety.

They were the families of Marine soldiers that Ross had purchased, now serving as cleaning staff in his palace.

"That's 50 billion Belly, and I've brought the people as promised."

Zephyr, dressed in the white suit of CP0, spoke to Ross without excessive deference, his tone ordinary.

Ross didn't mind. No matter how high a Celestial Dragon's status, it only worked on those who followed the rules. True strength was what made people bow and scrape.

"Leave them there. The Marines must have made a decent haul this time too."

Just Rozward alone had spent 4.1 billion Belly. The Marines had rounded it up to 9 billion for him, which only meant they had made even more.

"About 3 billion Belly in cash. The main haul is the various slaves—if handed over to the World Government, they'd probably be worth 4 billion Belly," Zephyr said calmly.

He spoke of slaves without any trace of guilt.

Ross had been a bit puzzled before, worried about potential conflict with the Marines over this issue. But after sorting through his memories, he had no such concerns.

The Marines represented justice, and Zephyr certainly believed in justice in his heart.

But in this world, moral standards were truly not very high.

Talking about equality in a world where strength decided everything was nothing but a joke.

In almost everyone's mindset, slave trading was something people encountered from birth. There was no concept of justice or injustice—it was as normal as working like a beast of burden for a boss.

This way of thinking had persisted for centuries.

For most Marines, justice meant cracking down on pirates, preventing large-scale slaughter and looting, and solidifying the World Government's rule—not hunting down slave traders to build a utopia.

It was like how ancient authorities would punish murder and arson but wouldn't bother about commoners buying concubines or maidservants.

Standing among these non-modern people of the Pirate World, Ross felt he was practically a paragon of morality.