The underworld had not yet taken on the form of the Six Emperors from the original timeline.
Morgans was still an ordinary reporter, still some time away from founding the World Economic News Agency, while Stussy, the Queen of the Pleasure District, was still a cloned embryo.
However, certain regions had already been carved up, and the Piekro Oran mentioned was one of them.
Piekro the Grand Undertaker ran a large funeral parlor under his command, primarily dealing in the funeral business.
But his funeral business encompassed far more than what ordinary people understood by the term, including but not limited to assassinations, organ harvesting, and corpse smuggling.
Aside from standard funeral services, they did almost everything.
Amid the increasingly chaotic Grand Line, their business was booming. Though it did not directly conflict with Feld's business, if either side had a chance to swallow the other, neither would show mercy.
"Do you know what you're saying?"
"I'm sure there's nothing wrong with my grammar. Of course, that depends on the first plan proceeding smoothly. I have no interest whatsoever in organ trafficking."
At their core, none of these underworld tycoons were good people. If those who moved between pirates and the World Government while conducting all sorts of illegal businesses were decent folk, they would have long since been devoured whole.
But this sea was an environment where everyone competed to be less rotten. Without question, Piekro's business was the bloodiest and filthiest.
And in Oran's plan, even if he did not make a move against Piekro, Piekro would have to make a move against him.
"Wait a moment. All of you, leave."
Feld interrupted Oran, then gestured for all his bodyguards to leave.
"Boss, if we do that—"
"I told you to leave. Are you deaf?"
"Yes, sir!"
Feld was not skilled in combat, but he had courage of his own. Otherwise, he would never have risen to the position of the Loan Shark King. Though his personal bodyguards had earned his trust, Feld still had no intention of letting details like this leak out.
"Is it safe to talk here?"
"Of course. I know an expert in eavesdropping. She modified my private Den Den Mushi, and with my technology, no Den Den Mushi signals can leave this room.
As for whether anyone is nearby, wouldn't your bodyguards know that best?"
With a click, Oran's spinning top stopped turning. He sat up straight, clasping his hands together and resting them on the table.
"Phew... I'm very interested in what you said. Now you can explain it in detail. Double the funding won't be a problem, as long as you convince me the money is worth spending."
"I don't need to elaborate on the value of the Ybel Prize. If the charity organization you sponsor can win both the Medicine Prize and the Peace Prize, that alone will prove the results."
The Ybel Prize was a scientific event held every few years across the sea, with considerable renown in every nation.
Each selection included prizes in physics, chemistry, peace, physiology or medicine, and literature, intended to honor those who had "made the greatest contribution to humanity" in physics, chemistry, peace, physiology or medicine, and literature.
For a charity organization, medicine and peace were undoubtedly the most important.
"I don't have the ability to manipulate that prize selection. Otherwise, do you think I would need to invest in you?"
"Mr. Feld, you misunderstand one thing. We have complete confidence in our capabilities. You only need to make those judges aware of this, and they will naturally award us the prize. All you need to do is build momentum.
This is Punk's latest achievement. You may take a look first. You can call it a Flower Bomb, a new invention with no direct damaging power, yet one that can prevent an enemy's gun from firing bullets."
Oran did not make things overly complicated, explaining its effects in the most concise manner. Sometimes, he felt underworld people were quite easy to deal with. At least they pursued efficiency rather than being bizarre clients obsessed with flashy nonsense that only caused trouble in the end.
"This invention... could indeed work. This product is enough to convince those people on the selection committee. What about the Medicine Prize?"
Clang.
A collision rang out as Oran tossed a metal arm in front of Feld.
It had a skeleton made of metal. To make it easier for outsiders to understand, Oran had replaced the muscles with transparent materials, revealing circuits within that resembled blood vessels and meridians.
"A prosthetic limb?"
"It's a Prosthetic Limb, not a decoration. With just a minor operation, it can be connected to a human body. How many people on this sea have lost limbs due to accidents?
They were once the pillars of their families, only to become useless after an accident. But this thing can give them a new life.
Arms, eyes, legs, organs—these can all be replaced with machinery. For countless people, this is another chance."
These Prosthetic Limbs and artificial organs were naturally not Hextech like the one on Kate's body. They were merely ordinary downgraded versions, without Hextech's enhancement abilities and capable only of replacing what was missing.
"If you want to win the Medicine Prize with this, it's not nearly enough."
"Of course I know that. There are plenty of people on this sea capable of making similar things. Even Queen and Judge would not find it difficult."
There were many geniuses on this sea, and quite a few could produce high-tech Prosthetic Limbs. But such things lacked universality; their exorbitant costs were beyond what ordinary people could afford.
"Mr. Feld, why don't you guess how much it costs to produce this Prosthetic Limb?"
Looking at the lifelike arm, which even had lines resembling metallic muscles, Feld frowned but gave no answer.
"I don't understand technical matters. Just tell me."
"Five hundred thousand. Just five hundred thousand Beli. And the most expensive part is the neural interface. If we abandon aesthetics, the price can be lowered even further. At this price, isn't it enough to win this year's Medicine Prize?"
That number was not high. Even if the selling price doubled, ordinary people could still afford it. In Nami's hometown in the original timeline, the protection money Arlong collected was one hundred thousand Beli per adult each month.
That was a village in East Blue, yet most people could afford it. If a family truly encountered a crisis, they could save enough for a Prosthetic Limb with some time.
"As long as doctors are willing to learn, I can teach them how to perform the surgery. Isn't that enough?"
While there were countless people on the sea capable of making Prosthetic Limbs, Oran could drive down the price and turn them from something exclusive to wealthy families into something everyone could afford.
Oran did not mind teaching others the surgical method, because the technical barrier for this operation was low, and it was not Oran's main source of profit.
In the Project Universe, machinery had developed to an exaggerated degree. Anyone with even a little know-how could assemble an arm from junk found in the wasteland, and the technology behind this Prosthetic Limb came from there.
Rather than wait for others to crack it, he might as well teach it himself. He could earn tuition fees, build his reputation, then use the principle of low margins and high volume to completely seize this blank market among the lower class.
In Oran's proposal, this plan carried the codename—Mixue Bingcheng.
(End of Chapter)
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