What Do You Think Life Is!

Hearing this astonishing statement from the Celestial Dragon, Will couldn't help but pause slightly, then said with a puzzled expression: "You're telling me this right now?!"

He truly couldn't understand how the other party had the nerve to say such a thing. Was this fat, pig-headed Celestial Dragon completely unafraid of death?

Seeing that Will hadn't immediately knelt in gratitude to thank him for the favor, Saint Charlos, who had remained calm until now, suddenly darkened his expression and growled in fury: "Damned insect! I give you a chance and you don't even know how to cherish it!"

Then he suddenly reached his hand back, palm open, and took a Den Den Mushi that a servant instinctively handed over. Staring at the Den Den Mushi with its eyes tightly shut, Saint Charlos couldn't help but sneer: "Heh heh heh heh, you should know what this is, right? As soon as I contact Marine Headquarters, they'll immediately dispatch a Marine Admiral here. Then you're as good as dead!"

Hearing this, Will raised an eyebrow and said indifferently: "Oh my, is that so? How terrifying."

At these words, the arrogant Saint Charlos seemed not to catch the sarcasm, thinking Will was actually backing down. So he sneered again with a cocky tone: "Heh heh heh heh, scared now, are you? You damned..."

But before he could finish, Will had already lost patience, vanishing from his spot in an instant.

Shave!

The next second, Will suddenly appeared before the Celestial Dragon, casually throwing a punch that slammed directly into his transparent helmet.

Bam—!

Struck on the helmet, Saint Charlos was sent flying sideways, tumbling across the ground several times before stopping in front of the slaves. His white robe was now filthy and stained. The Den Den Mushi he had been holding also fell to the ground where it was.

The group of servants in front of Will stared in utter shock, mouths agape, nearly dropping their jaws. "You... how dare you lay a hand on a Celestial Dragon!"

As one servant rushed up, pointing a finger at Will's nose and shouting, Will's gaze turned cold. Then he suddenly raised his hand and swung it sideways, smashing it across the servant's face. The immense force sent the servant's head spinning several times, twisting his neck like a pretzel. His face stopped facing backward, still frozen in an angry expression looking behind him.

Faced with such a horrifying sight, the remaining servants covered their mouths, their eyes filled with terror.

At that moment, Saint Charlos, who had been knocked away earlier, slowly stood up again. He glanced at the tiny crack in his helmet and laughed in relief: "Hahahaha, this thing isn't as fragile as a resin bubble! With your strength, there's no way you can break my specially made protective helmet!"

"Oh?" Will turned his head, a glint of eagerness in his eyes. "Is that so? Then let me give it a try."

Seeing Will's reaction, Saint Charlos felt a jolt of panic. He quickly pulled a special golden gun from his robe, aimed it at a female slave beside him, and roared: "Don't come any closer! Or I'll shoot her dead on the spot!"

But before Will could respond, another male slave suddenly charged forward with a shout.

Bam—!

The Celestial Dragon instinctively swung the gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet shot out at high speed, piercing straight through the male slave's calf. Watching the slave collapse to the ground, writhing in agony, Saint Charlos burst into manic laughter once more.

"Hahahaha, how amusing, truly amusing, these pathetic little insects!"

Will simply could not comprehend the mindset of a Celestial Dragon. He couldn't help but ask coldly:

"What's amusing about it? What's funny? What do you take life for?"

Saint Charlos was taken aback, his face full of surprise as he said:

"Life? What life do these people have?"

"They're nothing but lowly scum!"

"I killed several of these things when I was just eight years old!"

Will's brow tightened. He confirmed again: "You mean you've been killing people for fun without reason since you were a child?"

"What? You say killing people?"

Hearing this, Saint Charlos's expression grew even more bewildered. He pointed his gun at a nearby slave and said:

"These things count as people? They're just a bunch of slaves. There are as many of these as you want on the sea!"

"Killing slaves for fun? Hahahaha! Do I even need a reason to kill slaves?"

With that, he suddenly stopped laughing, his expression gradually twisting into something vicious, and he growled arrogantly:

"Ever since I was little, my father told me."

"'Son, it's fine. Kill as many of those insect-like slaves as you want.'"

"'Because you are the most noble Celestial Dragon in this world!'"

The group of slaves nearby, upon hearing this horrifying speech, stood frozen in place, mouths agape, pupils trembling wildly.

By this point, Will's expression had gradually calmed. He asked in a flat tone:

"How many slaves have you killed so far?"

The Celestial Dragon lifted his head haughtily, still grinning viciously as he said: "Ha, you ask me how many slaves I've killed?"

"How ridiculous. How could I possibly remember something like that? Can you remember exactly how many pieces of meat you've eaten every day?"

Hearing this, Will's gaze shifted, and he said expressionlessly: "I understand."

After listening to all this, he had basically sorted out the other party's way of thinking.

In the eyes of those Celestial Dragons, everyone else in this world was probably never seen as human.

Thus, the Celestial Dragons' attitude toward slaves or commoners

was simply to use them however they pleased, kill them however they pleased, entirely at their own whim.

Now that he understood this, the obnoxious Celestial Dragon before him had no further value to Will.

Then, without any warning, his figure flickered, and he vanished from the spot in an instant.

Next, under the Celestial Dragon's terrified gaze, Will reappeared and swung his fist, slamming it down hard!

Boom--!

Saint Charlos, struck directly on his helmet, was sent flying sideways, his golden gun clattering to the ground.

Crack--!

After hitting the ground, before he could even get up, a cracking sound came from the helmet on his head.

Then, with a loud bang, it shattered completely.

"Ah--! My helmet!"

Having just taken two breaths of cold air, Saint Charlos immediately covered his mouth and nose in fury, completely ignoring the cuts on his face from the shards.

"You actually made me breathe the same air as you! You deserve to die!"

But by now, Will was already immune to the Celestial Dragon's ravings. He paid no heed and continued stepping forward, closing in on him.

He wanted this man to experience more of the taste of fear and pain before he died!

Otherwise, killing him with a single punch would be far too merciful for such a piece of trash.