Baby 5
Miming stared coldly at the woman. What a strange, twisted soul—willing to be strangled to death, yet terrified of being cast out.
But it was useless. Cairns simply picked her up and threw her out. Her cries gradually faded away. In this slave enclosure, such sounds were far too commonplace to stir any sympathy.
When Cairns returned, Miming asked, "How will she be handled?"
"Do you mean Baby 5?" Cairns said. "Maidservants who are cast out are usually sent back to their birth mothers' homes. After all, she was once the young master's woman, so she won't live too badly."
"Wait, what did you say her name was? Baby 5?" Miming was a little dazed, his head suddenly throbbing.
"Yes. She's Saint Rosward's fifth illegitimate daughter, so she's called Baby 5. We'll have to check where her birth mother was captured from back then. But don't worry, everything is on record." Cairns looked puzzled by Miming's blank expression. "What? Do you need me to bring her back?"
"No." Miming came back to himself. Sending Baby 5 away was truly best for her. At the very least, the outside world might turn her twisted outlook on life toward kindness. That was undoubtedly happiness.
"We'll meet again in the future, Baby 5." Miming sighed, then turned his attention back to the Boa Sisters.
After being cleaned up, the Boa Sisters were sent back to a comfortable room.
Though servants had washed them, changed their medicine, and put them in fresh clothes, the three sisters still lay motionless in bed.
"They've gone on a hunger strike," Cairns reported.
He could sense that the three sisters had completely lost any desire to go on living. Amazon was a proud warrior people, and the humiliation they had endured here had surpassed the limits of what their pride could bear. If not for their other sisters, they likely would have killed themselves long ago. Now, the three of them had reached an agreement: they would die together. After all, living meant endless humiliation.
"Get out! All of you, get out!" Miming could not help roaring as he drove everyone out.
Holding a spoonful of porridge, Miming carefully blew on it to cool it before trying to feed it into Hancock's mouth. But Hancock kept her lips tightly shut, and the porridge spilled out.
Hancock weakly opened her eyes a sliver, glanced at him, then closed them again. That Celestial Dragon had returned, but nothing would change. She understood now that this Celestial Dragon's occasional kindness could not change the fact that she and her sisters were slaves.
Hancock's lashes trembled slightly. Then, in a voice so faint it was nearly inaudible, she said, "Please... let us... die..."
Her once-proud face was now covered in scars. They had destroyed the last shred of her pride. She truly did not want to live anymore.
"No. For Marigold and Sandersonia, you must hold on." Miming spoke softly. "Eat. If you eat, they'll eat too." He had even remembered the two younger Boa sisters' tongue-twisting names. That had to show sincerity. Sandersonia was the green-haired second sister, while Marigold was the youngest. But because Marigold had always seemed so sensible, people often thought she was older than Sanda.
"We... don't want to live anymore..." Hancock said painfully.
"Eat it." Miming's tone was earnest. "I don't dare ask you to trust me, but if you hold on, there will still be hope tomorrow."
Hancock painfully turned her face away. Even with cracked, dry lips, she refused to eat a single bite. Compared to death, endless torment was more terrifying. Death was instead a release.
"Perhaps you can't believe it." Miming did not lose heart. He carefully wiped away the porridge that had spilled from the corner of her mouth, then scooped up another spoonful. "One day, I'll take you out of this hell. If you agree, I want to leave with you too."
"Your back hurts, doesn't it? The wound left by that brand—the wound called the Hoof of the Soaring Dragon."
"Perhaps you won't believe this, but I bear the same brand too, the same wound. It just can't be seen." Miming spoke quietly. "I never wanted to become a Celestial Dragon either. Perhaps a brand can be concealed, but Celestial Dragon blood is like a curse. It cannot be hidden at all."
"But I'll work hard to grow stronger. One day, I'll break free of this curse and seize my fate in my own hands."
"For your sisters, you have to pull yourself together. Boa Hancock, I believe you can do it."
"One day, I won't just rescue you. I'll free every slave here."
"Eat. Eat it, and tomorrow will bring hope again."
Before he realized it, the porridge from the spoon had slipped between Hancock's trembling lips. Tears streaming down her face, Hancock silently swallowed it.
In the silence, Miming heard Hancock speak for the first time in so long. Her voice was as beautiful as a lark's.
"No matter what you're planning, if you're lying to us, we won't let you go even as ghosts!"
Miming clasped Hancock's hand in delight, too excited to say a single word.
Early the next morning, Miming arrived at the Twelve God Temple in Pangaea Castle before dawn.
"You're done?" Anubis was no longer overly surprised by Miming's changes. But among Celestial Dragons, one who got up this early was truly unprecedented.
Sensing the exceptionally harmonious energy within Miming's body, Anubis knew that he was ready. Not just physically—his heart had become extraordinarily resilient as well.
"Then let's begin. The training of the Six Styles of the Gods. Which move do you want to learn first?"
Shadowless, a footwork technique that used rapid steps to make the body flash forward in an instant. To enemies, it was as if the user had vanished.
Vajra, a qi technique that filled the body with force, granting it diamond-like hardness. Once mastered, it could also be used to strike others.
Chaotic Dance, a martial art that allowed the body to perform incredible movements, erase its presence, evade attacks, and alter its shape.
Tread Wind, a lightness technique that allowed high-speed movement across the surface of any medium, including the sky and water.
Vacuum, a blade technique that created vacuum air blades with bare hands. Even flowers and plucked leaves could wound people.
Flying Missile, a boxing technique that used offense as defense, capable of shattering anything.
Each of these Six Powers could both attack and defend. Mastering even one was enough to dominate the world. Every style could also branch into many moves, such as Shadowless Kick and Vajra Palm...
After studying them carefully, Miming could not help drawing in a sharp breath. The Marine Six Styles were more than merely a simplified castrated version—this was so simplified that only the foreskin remained!
Put plainly, anyone could practice the Marine Six Styles. It was simply grueling. As long as one was not afraid of hardship and trained desperately, one could gain results. Once practiced to the limit, it could develop variations and turn the mundane into the miraculous.
The Six Styles of the Gods, however, did not need to turn the mundane into the miraculous. They were divine arts from the start. Every style had ten levels of advancement and numerous variations. Depending on a person's aptitude and comprehension, each level had detailed training methods and ways to break through.
If one cultivated all the Marine Six Styles, the chances of awakening Life Return could be greatly increased.
As for the Six Styles of the Gods, one had to awaken Life Return before beginning cultivation!