Indeed, if you asked Ron and the other three to debate someone, their chances of winning probably weren't great.
But if you were talking about stealing things-brother, you had picked the right people. This was their old trade.
The still-sobbing child wiped his tears, sniffled, then pointed at Kaido, who was sitting there looking glum.
The meaning was clear: he had an enemy, and it was the big guy right there. He had stolen his cow.
Kaido tilted his head, stared blankly for a few seconds, then twisted his neck from side to side as though searching for something. "Damn it, where's my club?!"
Before he had even stood up, the child who had gone back to report the theft came running over from nearby with a large crowd in tow.
Some carried sickles, some had hoes slung over their shoulders, some held kitchen knives, and others raised iron shovels.
"Who?! What suicidal bastard dared to steal a cow?!"
"Kill him!"
In no time, the villagers had charged up to Ron and the others, bristling with anger, and surrounded the campfire.
"Dad! It was that bad guy sitting there!" the child shouted, pointing at Kaido, his voice trembling with tears and anger. "The other three are his accomplices!"
Ron sighed softly. He had originally planned to settle things with compensation, but now it seemed they could only resolve this with their fists.
"Hey, you lot, listen to me," Whitebeard spoke up.
"No need!" the man whose cow had been stolen shouted, then did something nobody had expected.
He raised his hand and slapped his own son across the face.
A crisp smack rang out, then he scolded, "What are you yelling about?! What's wrong with some passing gentlemen eating a cow when they're hungry?! Haven't I taught you since you