David Family and the Golden Finger

The leader's sudden death became the last straw that broke the camel's back. The remaining gang members finally collapsed completely.

Panic spread like a plague, and the last trace of fighting spirit vanished. The survivors cried out and rushed toward the doors, windows, and any possible route of escape.

Dawn's gaze sharpened. He bent his legs slightly, and the muscles in his calves suddenly tensed like steel wires before he kicked off with explosive force.

Crack! Fine fractures spread across the solid ground beneath his feet.

He charged forward like a mad bull breaking free of its reins, turning his incredibly powerful body into the most direct weapon of all!

Boom!

The gang members trying to flee were sent flying like bowling pins struck head-on. Amid scalp-numbing impacts, they were hurled in every direction, smashing heavily into the surrounding walls and pillars. Bones and tendons snapped, and they slid limply to the ground, never to move again.

A moment later, all the clamor and battle cries had died away. The hall finally fell into deathly silence.

Only the thick, nearly indissoluble stench of blood lingered in the air, along with the mess covering the floor—broken furniture and corpses lying in every imaginable position.

Dawn stood amid the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, his chest rising and falling slightly. Hot white vapor escaped his nose and mouth, and at last, a faint trace of exhaustion appeared on his face.

He swept his gaze over the enemies sprawled all around him and slowly exhaled a murky breath tinged with the smell of iron.

My techniques... are still far too crude.

He silently assessed himself, dissatisfied with his performance.

I'm fighting purely on instinct and physical strength. The efficiency is too low. Otherwise, dealing with this trash wouldn't have cost me so much... As expected, I'm still too weak.

To others, such a feat was already inhuman. To him, it was merely barely passable. His pursuit of strength was demanding and relentless.

Dawn did not dwell on his thoughts for long. He quickly composed himself, and his eyes turned cold once more.

He began pacing slowly through the hall, delivering fatal blows to those bodies that still carried faint traces of life.

Leaving no roots behind had always been his principle. Mercy toward enemies was cruelty toward himself.

After confirming that no one besides himself remained alive, Dawn began skillfully gathering his spoils.

Ignoring the ordinary weapons splattered with blood, he headed straight for the rear of the hall and found several rooms where the One-Eyed Gang stored supplies.

He sorted all the durable food he could find—jerky, black bread, coarse grains—as well as the Beli cash and small amounts of gold and silver jewelry hidden in secret compartments and chests, then packed them into two enormous burlap sacks he had prepared beforehand.

Before long, the two heavy bundles, each large enough to hold two adults, were stuffed to the brim.

Dawn effortlessly hoisted them onto his broad shoulders as though they were merely two sacks of cotton.

Ignoring the fearful, reverent, and faintly greedy stares of the slum dwellers trembling as they watched from alleyways farther away, he followed the road he had come by and returned directly to his crude shack deep within the slums.

Nothing happened along the way. No one blinded by greed dared jump out and try to "pick the peaches."

Those who could survive in this hellish area might be vile or ruthless, but very few of them were truly stupid.

They knew perfectly well that the monster who had single-handedly wiped out the One-Eyed Gang and walked away unscathed was not someone they could afford to provoke.

Returning to the low, damp shack that contained almost nothing besides a hard wooden bed, a battered wardrobe, and a simple stove, Dawn set down the supplies and carefully washed away the dried, congealed blood on his body.

Hot water flowed over the tiny wounds, bringing waves of faint stinging pain.

Yet only moments later, those shallow cuts had stopped bleeding and even begun to itch slightly, displaying healing far beyond that of an ordinary person.

After changing into a relatively clean set of black clothes—also taken from some unlucky gang leader—he began preparing the food he had brought back.

He efficiently lit a fire, simply heated a large piece of dried meat, and cut up two still-fresh fruits. That made for a dinner considered luxurious in the slums.

Then he began wolfing it down.

His appetite was astonishing, enough to leave even the strongest men famed for their eating capacity dumbfounded. Massive amounts of food disappeared into his mouth at a visible rate, as though it were liquid rather than solid.

As the food entered his stomach, a familiar warm current quickly welled up from within. Like a gentle stream, it flowed joyfully through his limbs and body, reaching every corner of him.

The stamina he had expended in the earlier battle was rapidly replenished. His minor injuries healed, scabbed over, and even shed their scabs at an unbelievable speed, leaving behind only nearly invisible pale pink new flesh.

At the same time, he could clearly feel every cell in his body cheering, greedily absorbing that energy and undergoing a subtle yet unmistakably real strengthening and transformation.

His muscle fibers seemed to become denser and tougher, his bone density quietly increased, and his five senses grew sharper... The feeling of strength filling his body gradually drove away his previous exhaustion.

Feeling that marvelous, intoxicating change, Dawn narrowed his eyes and fell into thought.

Dawn was a transmigrator.

His full name was David D. Dawn.

However, at the solemn urging of his deceased parents, he generally called himself Herman Dawn in public. Herman was the surname used in his parents' aliases.

Twelve years ago, he had been an ordinary office worker in Dragon Country on Blue Star. On his way home after a night shift, an out-of-control speeding truck had sent him into this world, where he was reborn as a baby.

His parents in this life had come from the David Family, but rather than live with the rest of their kin, they chose to abandon them, hide their identities, and conceal themselves in the chaotic industrial district of Carnival City, hoping to live peaceful lives.

However, heaven did not grant their wish. No matter how cautious they were, disaster still arrived as scheduled.

One day seven years ago, while Dawn was out looking for food, a Longarm Tribe member wearing a white suit and a white mask marked with dark stripes on the right side came to their home and left his parents gravely wounded and dying.

Dawn, who happened to be outside, narrowly escaped disaster.

When he returned home with the small piece of moldy bread he had struggled to find, all he saw were his parents lying in pools of blood, barely clinging to life.

From their fragmented, fearful, and unwilling words as they lay dying, he learned the killer's appearance and distinguishing traits.

Using the last of their strength, his parents clutched his hand tightly and told him to avoid anyone dressed in similar clothing, never reveal his true full name, and then breathed their last.

From that day on, Dawn became an orphan and began struggling to survive in this lawless slum where the strong devoured the weak. Those early days had been as dark as a nightmare.

Malnourished for years, he was frail and knew no fighting techniques. He could only become a target for street thugs to bully, beat, and rob of food. Going hungry and getting beaten were everyday occurrences.

Driven by the need to survive, he had no choice but to resort to less honorable methods, setting crude traps and exploiting the disarming nature of a child's appearance.

The first time he used a bit of cunning and a desperate, reckless ruthlessness to seize enough food for three days from several street thugs far stronger than himself, he ate the first truly filling meal of his life. To his surprise, his body, covered in bruises from countless beatings, began recovering rapidly and became just a little stronger than before.

As an experienced webnovel reader in his previous life, Dawn immediately understood—he might possess a so-called "golden finger."

But the condition for activating it was likely "eating until full." Before then, he had struggled even to stay alive, so he had never had the chance to meet that requirement.

After discovering this, something that had long been suppressed inside him awakened.

I got bullied before discovering the golden finger, and I'm still getting bullied after discovering it. Then what the hell is the point of having it?

To stop being bullied and continue developing this mysterious golden finger, Dawn began fighting his way forward.

He dealt with one group of thugs and small gangs after another that occupied different parts of the slums and preyed upon the weak, seizing batch after batch of food.

And the One-Eyed Gang he had just wiped out was the largest local force, as well as the last one that could pose even a slight threat to him.

It's time to leave.

As the tide of memories receded, Dawn looked at his well-defined hands and made his decision.

This place can no longer provide enemies strong enough for me to keep growing, or enough food.

And I have to find out the truth behind this body of mine. I need to grow stronger and take revenge on those people.

This ability to continuously grow stronger by eating after being injured was undoubtedly powerful, but it also left him faintly uneasy.

There was no such thing as a free lunch in this world. He desperately wanted to know where this ability came from and whether it hid unknown side effects or some terrible price.

Could he lose control and fall into terrifying Crazed Hunger like Charlotte Linlin? Although he had shown no such symptoms so far, and his desire for food was limited to what his body needed for strengthening rather than some uncontrollable madness, he still had to be cautious.

After all, this golden finger was the foundation of his survival. Without understanding its origins, he could not truly feel at ease.

As a transmigrator, he naturally knew that the culprits behind his parents' deaths were most likely Cipher Pol, the organization shrouded in the world's shadows. That white-suited figure in the striped mask was very likely CP0, which answered directly to the Celestial Dragons.

If not for those people, perhaps he could have lived an ordinary life in this lifetime—poor, perhaps, but peaceful and normal.

As long as one could live a normal life, who, aside from those born with ambition, would willingly choose a life of constant danger, licking blood from the edge of a blade?

Since those self-proclaimed divine swine refused to let him live in peace, then he certainly would not let them live in peace either!

Having made up his mind, he quickly cleared the table, returned directly to the bedroom, lay down on the hard wooden bed, and forced himself to sleep.

The night passed without incident.

The next morning, dawn had only just broken, and the slums were still shrouded in gray haze and silence.

Dawn had already washed up and changed into a relatively respectable set of black clothes. They were still simple, but at least they would keep him from standing out too much among the well-dressed crowds of the outer city.

He carefully packed most of his Beli, along with the small amount of gold and silver valuables, into a sturdy canvas backpack and slung it over his back.

Finally, he looked around the shack that had borne witness to seven years of his pain, struggle, and bloody rise. There was no nostalgia in his eyes. Without hesitation, he turned around and locked the broken wooden door, which could not have stopped any thief anyway.

His tall figure passed through the muddy, pothole-filled streets of the slums, drawing countless watchful eyes hidden behind door cracks and window shadows. Yet no one dared approach him, much less stop him.

Before long, he arrived at the entrance in the tall wall separating the main city from the slums—a wall more symbolic than genuinely defensive.

After paying an entrance fee that was astronomical to the slum dwellers, Dawn stepped into the true heart of Carnival City.

In an instant, noise and prosperity washed over him like a heatwave.

Clean, spacious streets, dazzling shops with brightly lit display windows, well-dressed crowds chatting and laughing, and the fragrance of freshly baked bread, delicate pastries, and rich coffee drifting through the air...

Everything stood in stark contrast to the hopeless, gray world behind him, as though they belonged to two entirely different planets.

Dawn's eyes calmly swept across it all. There was not the slightest ripple in them—neither envy nor hatred, only profound indifference.

Following information he had gathered through various channels years ago, he headed straight for the grandest travel agency near the city center plaza.

Carnival City's thriving tourism industry meant that, as long as one paid enough Beli, its travel agencies could provide fixed sightseeing routes to many famous islands on the Grand Line or chartered ship services.

Dawn entered the travel agency's gleaming lobby, walked straight to an empty counter, pulled out a stack of Beli sufficient to cover a family of three in the slums for a week, and looked at the uniformed receptionist.

"One ticket to Drum Island. The earliest departure."

He chose Drum Island for a simple reason: it was famous throughout the world for its advanced medical techniques and numerous renowned doctors. He needed to use the medical knowledge there to investigate the secret of his body.

After paying the full amount, he quickly received his ticket.

Dawn accepted the beautifully printed ticket and followed its directions toward the designated waiting area at the harbor.

He did not speak with any of the well-dressed passengers around him who excitedly discussed their upcoming journeys, nor did he pay attention to the admiring or curious looks certain women cast at his appearance and physique.

He found a quiet seat near a corner, placed his backpack on his lap, closed his eyes, and rested while waiting for departure.

At dusk, the setting sun, like a massive ball of molten gold, slowly sank below the horizon, dyeing the boundless sea a magnificent expanse of gold and orange-red.

A huge three-masted sailing ship belonging to the travel agency, its hull painted in bright colors and carnival patterns, slowly docked and lowered its gangplank.

The passengers began lining up and boarding under the crew's guidance.

Dawn blended into the crowd. His tall stature and cold demeanor drew plenty of glances, but his unapproachable aura made those who wanted to strike up a conversation think better of it.

After boarding, he went straight to his room at the bottom of the ship's cabin. It was somewhat cramped for him, but he did not care.

After setting down his luggage, Dawn closed his eyes to rest, feeling the vibrations as the ship set sail and listening to the waves strike against the hull.

To be continued