"That idiot! What benefit could this possibly bring him?! He could become an honored guest in any country he chose, yet he insisted on meddling with those lowlifes. Where the hell did Feld find such a stubborn fool?!"
Piekro was furious now. The more he read the newspaper, the angrier he became.
If Oran had merely been selling Prosthetic Limbs and similar products, Piekro would not have felt anything at all. After all, such technology had always existed on the seas.
The Grand Line's unique climate had given rise to exceptionally distinct island cultures. Every island had developed differently; some remained in primitive environments, while others had entered the industrial age long ago.
With sufficient money and effort, commissioning a high-tech Prosthetic Limb was not difficult. What enraged him was that Oran had shattered the price range.
He had forcibly turned Prosthetic Limbs from luxuries exclusive to the wealthy into affordable products ordinary people could use, and he was selling them for even less than Piekro did.
Piekro's side had to kill and loot people, then handle matching, preservation, and transportation. Oran only needed to move his fingers to assemble something with better performance, without even having to consider rejection reactions.
Piekro had no chance of competing on cost. Worse still, there was no moral burden in using artificial products. Oran could advertise in every street and alley, and even sending flyers to Navy branches would not be a problem.
But Piekro could not. None of his businesses could be brought into the open. If Oran spread his technology far and wide, Piekro would suffer a devastating blow.
"Feld really went all out. He actually bought off that bastard Umit. Looks like that bastard is determined to use this chance to clean up his image."
Umit's main business was maritime