The Sheriff Who Enforced the Law with Violence (Part 1)

After the little ones left, the air briefly fell silent.

Whoosh!

Like a ghost, Lucci appeared soundlessly behind Adams, the whistle of his movement shattering the brief silence.

Adams did not turn around, as though he had expected it. He merely spoke, his voice steady yet carrying an innate sense of oppression.

"How did the investigation go?"

Lucci answered in a businesslike tone devoid of emotion.

"The legitimate businesses and underground criminal networks of the five great families have been mostly investigated.

He paused slightly, seeming to choose his words with precision.

"Of the two people you specifically ordered us to find... Lafitte has been confirmed. He is currently serving as the sheriff in Pejella, a border town in the Palermo Kingdom of the West Blue.

"He has an infamous reputation locally, known for his exceptionally brutal enforcement methods, and he has deep conflicts with the local officials."

"As for the other person, Nico Robin... there are no leads for the time being. It is as if she has completely vanished."

After hearing the report, Adams showed no surprise. He merely nodded slightly. The result was not perfect, but it was largely within his expectations. He was not surprised that Robin was skilled at evading Cipher Pol searches; after all, Lucci's methods of gathering intelligence had evolved from Cipher Pol's.

He turned around, his gaze settling on Lucci with a hint of scrutiny and a trace of barely perceptible approval.

"Very good. Faster than expected. Your intelligence-gathering and infiltration abilities have indeed not disappointed me."

Even his praise sounded cold, yet it carried its own weight.

"Go make preparations. Consolidate all the information. Before long, the feast will begin. The era of the five great families should come to an end."

"As you command."

Lucci showed no unnecessary reaction and gave a slight bow. The next moment, his figure blurred and vanished from where he stood.

After Lucci left, Adams summoned his wristwatch and brought up a nautical chart, rapidly scanning it and taking everything in.

Then his body paused slightly before rising into the air. He abruptly accelerated, streaking into the distance.

West Blue, Palermo Kingdom, border town of Pejella, sheriff's office.

Lafitte, wearing a black top hat and a strange earring dangling from one earlobe, sat behind his desk in utter boredom. His long, clearly jointed fingers tapped the worn tabletop now and then, producing a monotonous, irritating clatter.

A slender cane that looked ordinary but had been meticulously maintained lay on the desk.

A few days ago, he had once again enforced the law on several drunkards smashing, looting, and robbing in the streets, leaving them severely injured and on the brink of death. This act had finally crossed an invisible line and brought a personal reprimand from his superiors.

At the thought of those bureaucrats' hypocritical, cowardly faces, an expression of extreme disgust and mockery passed over Lafitte's pale face.

"Boring. Completely boring."

He murmured to himself, his voice gentle but carrying the hiss of a venomous snake.

"Perhaps it is time to leave."

He had always believed that, for scum that refused to follow the rules, only pain beyond their endurance—crushing the foundation that enabled their evil—could make them, and every bystander, remember what order truly meant.

And those harmless verbal warnings? They were nothing more than nourishment that allowed evil to flourish. Unfortunately, those fools would never understand.

Suddenly, a commotion arose beyond the office's dilapidated window. A woman's shrill, desperate cry tore through the town's false calm.

"Catch that thief! My bag! He stole my bag!"

Lafitte's tapping fingers stopped abruptly. A cruel curve formed at the corner of his mouth as he picked up his cane and rose gracefully, strolling out the door at an unhurried pace like an artist about to take the stage.

An ugly farce was unfolding in the street. A shifty-eyed, slippery man clutched a woman's handbag as he ran wildly, his face filled with smugness and arrogance.

Behind him, an exhausted woman staggered after him, crying herself hoarse, but she could only watch helplessly as the distance between them grew.

Even more chillingly, the people on both sides of the street did not try to stop him. Instead, as if avoiding the plague, they hurriedly made way for the thief, their eyes evasive and filled with fear.

He was a notorious repeat offender. Everyone who had ever tried to stand up for justice had suffered brutal retaliation afterward.

Despair, like an icy tide, flooded the woman's face.

The thief looked back, tossing out a few vulgar taunts before accelerating, preparing to disappear into an alley.

Just as he was brimming with satisfaction, convinced he had succeeded once again—

Whoosh!

A black shadow shot out like a striking venomous snake—precise, cold, and accompanied by a sharp whistle—as it suddenly swept into his chest!

"Puh—!"

The thief did not even see what had hit him. He only felt an irresistible force and a stabbing pain in his chest. His entire body flew backward like a kite with its string cut, smashing through several fruit stalls and shelves along the roadside in succession. Juice splattered everywhere, leaving a complete mess.

Only then did Lafitte's figure appear gracefully. He strolled over to the thief, who lay sprawled on the ground groaning. With one hand, he adjusted the brim of his hat; with the other, he lightly tapped the man's forehead with his cane and spoke in an exaggerated, sing-song tone.

"My, my, sir, theft is against the law. Do you know what you did wrong?"

The thief curled up, tears and snot streaming down his face from the pain as he begged repeatedly.

"I was wrong, I was wrong... Sheriff, sir... I will never dare again..."

Yet beneath his lowered eyelids lurked venomous resentment and viciousness. One of his hands was secretly reaching for the dagger at his waist.

The false amusement in Lafitte's eyes vanished instantly, replaced by an icy, bone-chilling gleam of excitement.

The cane became an afterimage once more. This time, it was no longer a strike, but a series of incomparably precise lashes, jabs, and thrusts! Clear sounds of bones breaking rang through the air.

"Aah—!" The thief let out a pig-slaughtering scream, his limbs twisting at grotesque angles.

Lafitte gracefully hooked the handbag from the ground with his cane, as though he had merely brushed dust off it, then gave a slight nod to the stunned woman.

The woman took the bag with trembling hands and thanked him incoherently. Then she fled as quickly as a startled rabbit, not even daring to look at him again.

Ignoring the curses and insults filled with the most vicious malice behind him, Lafitte straightened his top hat and hummed a strange little tune as he returned to his office, thoroughly satisfied.

Order had been upheld in a bloody fashion. He liked that feeling.

But he knew this was not over yet.

TO BE CONTINUED