Massacre

The island was not large, roughly twenty kilometers across, but the scenery was quite pleasant. The mountains were lush and green, the valleys shaded by grass, and the landscape beautiful.

The town was not large either, roughly square in shape. Its buildings were mainly plain white and simple black. There were quite a few people on the streets—merchants, commoners, bounty hunters, and pirates. Shops selling food, drinks, entertainment, and curiosities lined the streets, making the place quite lively.

After arriving in town, Nangong Yan spent some Beli on a glass of golden ale and ten squid skewers covered in chili peppers, eating as he wandered around.

When it came to enjoying himself, Nangong Yan had never treated himself poorly. Money was meant to be spent when it needed to be, and he was never stingy.

When he spotted a clothing shop, Nangong Yan stopped, turned, and walked in. He stayed inside for about an hour, buying two sets of clothes.

One was ready-made, while the other had been made by the shop's tailor at double the price after working overtime. The outfit Nangong Yan was wearing was the custom-made one.

It was a complete set. Nangong Yan wore a black-and-red shirt on top, pure black casual trousers below, and a black trench coat over them. Vivid scarlet clouds decorated the coat, and its collar was turned up. He actually looked rather handsome and cool.

After changing into new clothes, Nangong Yan felt his mood improve considerably. While strolling down the street, he found a shop selling glasses and bought a pair of orange sunglasses similar in style to Yasha's.

Now he looked handsome, cool, and faintly wicked, overflowing with charm.

He found a fairly upscale restaurant, ordered six dishes, a soup, and a bottle of wine, then focused entirely on dealing with the food on the table.

A few minutes later, just as Nangong Yan was happily eating, his brows furrowed at a burst of noise. Turning his head, he saw seven or eight burly men in white shirts, black suits and trousers, sunglasses, and black leather shoes swagger in arrogantly.

The restaurant owner hurried over, bowing and scraping as he greeted them. He respectfully took out a large sum of Beli and handed it to one of the men, while the other six or seven acted as if they were in their own home, casually helping themselves to the drinks at the restaurant counter.

After counting the Beli, the leader patted the restaurant owner, who was forcing a smile, in satisfaction. He then skillfully picked up a bottle of wine and strode away with his subordinates.

After they left, the restaurant owner let out a deep sigh, his face full of bitterness.

"Gangsters?" The word surfaced in Nangong Yan's mind. On second thought, it was normal. This was the West Blue. It was said that the five powerful mafia families were the true rulers of these vast seas, and one of the future Supernovas, Capone Bege, belonged to the strongest of those five families.

The appearance of these mafia members gave Nangong Yan an idea. What was the fastest way to get rich? Obviously, robbery. Nangong Yan found it hard to rob ordinary people, and he disdained doing so. But these mafia men clearly were not good people, judging by what they had just done. He would feel no psychological burden at all robbing them.

He quickened his pace through the meal. After paying, Nangong Yan left the restaurant, casually took out a Beli, asked a passerby, and quickly learned where the mafia's base was.

At the northernmost end of town, a sizable manor came into view. It was built in a Western style, alternating white and gold, and looked rather luxurious.

"Hehe, they really know how to enjoy themselves. I'll rob the rich and help my poor self." He chuckled sinisterly to himself, circled the manor once, avoided the guarded front and back gates, found an unguarded corner, and lightly jumped over the wall. Then he began to sneak forward carefully.

At that moment, Nangong Yan dearly wished he knew Observation Haki. Then he could have marched in openly.

The manor was quite large, and after wandering around for some time, Nangong Yan was starting to feel dizzy. Suddenly, his ears twitched as he caught faint wails and cries for help. Enhanced by the Mythical Zoan, his hearing was much sharper than an ordinary person's. Otherwise, he truly would not have heard them.

After winding around for a while, Nangong Yan saw four mafia guards standing sternly before an iron door. Short pistols hung at their waists, long guns were held in their hands, and their expressions were cold.

Nangong Yan's expression shifted. Stroking his chin, he thought, "Could these mafia people be running some dirty business in secret? Human trafficking? Slave trading?"

As a modern person, Nangong Yan had absolutely no favorable impression of human trafficking or slave trading. People might differ in status and rank, but slavery was still far too much in Nangong Yan's eyes.

With that thought, Nangong Yan's face turned cold. He mobilized the power within him, and four pale golden Flame Bullets cut through the air, instantly burrowing into the four men's heads. Muffled groans sounded as the four men collapsed to the ground.

Nangong Yan walked to the iron door. A blazing mass of Sunfire ignited in his hand, and he placed it against the iron lock. In just two or three breaths, the lock melted into a pool of crimson molten iron that flowed onto the floor.

He opened the iron door and walked in. As he reached the end of the passage, the screams and wails became clearer. Nangong Yan quickened his steps. The interior was brightly lit, where three burly men holding whips were viciously lashing two men and a woman while cursing incessantly.

The two men and one woman had been whipped until their clothes were in tatters and their bodies covered in blood. In terror, they crawled and rolled through the limited space, trying to avoid the mafia men's whips.

Seeing this, Nangong Yan's brows knitted tightly, veins pulsed on his forehead, and murderous fury churned in his eyes. He stomped the ground and became a pale golden blur, shooting straight toward the three mafia men.

One of the three mafia men spotted Nangong Yan and shouted. The other two reacted as well. But Nangong Yan was too fast; they had no time to draw their guns, so they lashed their whips at him.

"Hmph..." Nangong Yan snorted. He bent his knees slightly and leaped into the air, sweeping out with one leg and kicking all three men in the jaw. The powerful force sent them crashing into the wall, leaving their bodies limp and weak. They could not get up for a while.

With a flick of his hand, Sunfire flew out and landed on the three men. The surging Sunfire was intensely yang and fierce, overwhelmingly aggressive, and it ignited violently as though it had fallen into boiling oil.

"Ah... Ah... Spare us..." Miserable screams rang out. Before long, the three men became three human torches, struggling and rolling madly around the room in a futile attempt to extinguish the Sunfire on their bodies. Unfortunately, this was not a flame that people only slightly stronger than ordinary men, who relied on firearms to tyrannize others, could put out. Not long after, they stopped moving altogether. A nauseating scent of roasted flesh filled the room. Within less than half an hour, they had turned completely to charcoal before soon scattering into ash.

The three beaten slaves, along with the roughly twenty young and middle-aged men and women imprisoned in the cells, watched with immense satisfaction as the three mafia men who had abused them burned to death. Their gazes toward Nangong Yan were filled with reverence and a trace of awe.

"Stay here for now and don't come out. I'll go outside and deal with the remaining mafia members." With that, Nangong Yan lifted his foot and left, quickly turning into a pale golden blur that vanished from sight.

Once outside, Nangong Yan stopped hiding. He swiftly climbed to a higher point in the manor, clenched his palms slightly, and hurled basin-sized, high-density fireballs radiating terrifying heat down at the estate.

These fireballs, filled with violent energy, were like grenades packed with explosives from Earth. When they struck the buildings, huge craters appeared one after another, while the scorching heatwaves were enough to burn an ordinary person's skin.

The tremendous commotion quickly drew many mafia men wielding rifles and blades. Seeing nearly forty or fifty of them approaching, Nangong Yan did not hold back. He intended to end this quickly.

He put away his orange sunglasses, closed his eyes slightly, then suddenly opened them. Scarlet Sharingan emerged in his eyes, and the mysterious, eerie Three-Tomoe Sharingan slowly rotated. The entire world became incomparably clear, and every bullet fired at him seemed to move as slowly as a snail.

The Mangekyo Sharingan's terrifying insight was, by rough estimation, absolutely no weaker than that of a rear admiral or even vice admiral skilled in Observation Haki. As Nangong Yan's proficiency and spiritual power increased, it would only grow stronger.

His body nimbly evaded bullets while he continuously fired Flame Bullets. Yes, Nangong Yan had named them that simply and brutally.

As if he had activated cheats, Nangong Yan dodged the dense hail of lead bullets. His terrifying insight sharply predicted the mafia men's movements, while Flame Bullets shot from his ten fingers. Like tracking missiles, every attack took a life. In less than half an hour, Nangong Yan had massacred all forty or fifty mafia men.

Corpses and blood covered the ground, and the stench of blood assailed the nose. As though he had been born for the battlefield, Nangong Yan, like a born warrior, felt no discomfort whatsoever. Instead, he spread his arms wide in utter enjoyment.