Looking Up at the Visitor

Moke sat steadily in his chair, his body leaning back slightly, his hands resting casually on the backrest, looking completely at ease. His gaze slowly lifted and settled on the newcomer.

The man stood before Moke with an unpleasant smile on his face, seemingly full of contempt and mockery toward him. Seeing that self-important expression, Moke could not help curling his lips into a cold sneer.

"Trash who only dared hide on the first island at the entrance to the Grand Line actually had the nerve to laugh at people chasing their dreams?" Moke's voice was not loud, but it brimmed with sarcasm and disdain. "Though plenty of those people were indeed no good, they were still far better than trash like you."

As soon as Moke finished speaking, the previously boisterous tavern suddenly fell silent. Whether it was the newcomer or the others who had been waiting to enjoy the show, everyone's expressions froze as though they had been struck by a petrification spell.

Moke's words were like a resounding slap across the face of everyone present. In an instant, the way they looked at Moke changed. The amused expressions of spectators were gone, replaced by hostility and fury, as if Moke were their sworn enemy.

The burly man in particular had his eyes opened so wide that they nearly popped from their sockets. Flames of rage burned in his gaze as he glared at Moke and stammered, "You... you..."

Yet just as he was about to erupt, his eyes met Moke's. In that instant, he suddenly felt an overwhelming power surge from Moke's eyes like a raging torrent, crashing straight into the depths of his heart.

To his horror, Moke's pupils had turned an eerie purple, like the eyes of a vicious ghost from the underworld. At the