I Really Want to Improve!

"Naval officers... and those so-called big shots..."

After hearing this intelligence, Will's eyes grew thoughtful, then he suddenly asked:

"What's your name?"

"Name?" The bald man was taken aback, not reacting for a moment.

Because slaves on the bridge were utterly unworthy of having names.

Those overseer soldiers either called them slave, trash.

Or simply whipped and cursed them outright.

After recalling his name from memory, the bald man slowly replied: "Shet. My name is Shet."

"Shet?!" Will raised an eyebrow and couldn't help saying: "That name of yours... is pretty unique."

"Huh?" The bald man blinked, his expression slightly surprised.

And in the moment he blinked.

The next second.

Someone suddenly patted him lightly on the shoulder.

"Shet, is it? Haha, thanks for the intel."

Will came to his side, muttered softly, then couldn't hold back a chuckle.

After that, he shoved his hands in his pockets and strode toward the rear of the bridge, speaking with pointed meaning to the crowd behind him:

"As repayment, I'll give you all a piece of intel too."

"Soon enough, this bridge is probably going to fall into chaos."

"You people, if you want to escape, seize the moment."

"Remember, this world is vast. If you want to survive on the sea, you have to rely on yourselves."

Hearing these words.

The bald man and the other slaves turned to watch the figure gradually disappearing into the wind and snow, a ripple stirring deep in their eyes.

Now that he knew the general situation inside the Bridge-on-the-Nation.

Will didn't waste any more time staying in the Construction Area.

His entire form turned into a blur, darting between the crowd and building materials.

Whenever he encountered a fierce-looking overseer soldier in a cotton uniform, he would casually take them out without making a sound.

Aside from the occasional snowflakes scattered in the air by his passage.

Will's figure had almost completely vanished from the sight of everyone around.

And those slaves who saw the overseers suddenly collapse and die, though somewhat surprised, paid it no mind at all.

Some didn't even look; others were briefly stunned, then turned back to their daily labor.

Like emotionless machines.

Moreover, these slaves didn't seem worried about being implicated by the overseers' deaths.

In fact, many slaves might even have been hoping to die from it—that would be a kind of release.

On the other side.

In the Consolidation Area of the Bridge-on-the-Nation.

Right in the middle of the bridge, where massive piles of building materials should have been stacked, a very wide path had been deliberately cleared.

At this moment, a middle-aged man in a special white outfit, with a bizarre hairstyle, a fat build, narrow eyes, an arrogant expression, and a square transparent hood on his head.

Was walking down the middle of the bridge road, looking down on everyone, unhurried.

By his side followed a tall, muscular man in a black suit, his face expressionless.

Behind the two trailed many attendants, all carrying various travel supplies and daily necessities.

Two of them were even holding a large umbrella together, carefully shielding the middle-aged man from the falling snow.

As for the middle-aged man's front, two sturdy slaves were crawling on the ground, seemingly clearing the way for the group behind.

And around the necks of these two special slaves were custom collars connected to iron chains.

The other ends of those two chains were firmly gripped in the middle-aged man's right hand.

The whole group walked down the middle of the road, exuding an imposing aura that made them look anything but easy to mess with.

And besides that.

The two Marine Headquarters commodores originally tasked with guarding the entire Consolidation Area.

Similarly, he was followed by over a hundred Marines soldiers armed with spears, tightly trailing behind that middle-aged man.

Many of the Marines cast wary glances to both sides, fearful that the slaves already herded to the edges of the bridge might inadvertently offend the great figure ahead.

At that moment, one of them, a Marine Headquarters Commodore named Frat, suddenly quickened his pace and moved ahead of the group. Braving the pressure from the burly man in the suit's glare, he bowed low toward the middle-aged man and said with utmost deference:

"Noble Saint Charlos, would you like me to head to the Construction Area on the bridge in advance and have them clear a path as well, so that it's ready whenever you wish to go there for amusement?"

The reason for this was that Commodore Frat knew full well that to these lofty Celestial Dragons, the Bridge-on-the-Nation was nothing more than a playground in the East Blue. Every year, Celestial Dragons would come here, casually killing slaves for entertainment, or setting up bizarre rules to toy with the slaves on the bridge. The Celestial Dragon before him was one who particularly favored visiting the East Blue. Each time he came, he liked to clear a path through the middle of the bridge, then slowly stroll from one end to the other under the terrified gazes of countless slaves. Though Frat didn't know why this Celestial Dragon enjoyed doing so, it didn't stop him from using it to curry favor—because he desperately wanted to advance!

However, upon hearing these words, the Celestial Dragon Saint Charlos's face immediately darkened. He raised the scepter in his left hand and struck Commodore Frat across the face, hissing in anger: "What do you think you are, daring to speak my name directly? And as for where I go, do you think you need to arrange that? Are you teaching me what to do?" This action made it clear that in his eyes, this so-called Marine Commodore was no different from the slaves.

Yet after being struck, Commodore Frat showed not a trace of anger. Instead, he knelt on one knee in panic and apologized: "My deepest apologies! Your... Celestial Dragon Lord! I spoke too much! I've disturbed your mood! I truly deserve death!"

"Hmph." Saint Charlos pursed his lips and snorted, his expression still aloof. Without sparing another glance at the kneeling man, he continued walking forward on his own.

Seeing this, Commodore Frat breathed a sigh of relief and quickly shuffled aside on his knee, afraid of blocking the group's path.

A moment later, once the Celestial Dragon had moved far away, Frat slowly rose to his feet, his expression flickering with uncertainty. Just then, another Marine Headquarters Commodore, Konooh, happened to walk by. Seeing Frat's humiliated look, he sneered in disdain: "Ha, a groveling fool. What a pity the Celestial Dragon Lord didn't just have you executed on the spot."

"Hmph." Frat snorted coldly in response but said nothing more. His face dark, he turned and walked away, heading back toward the Marines under his command.