Baby5

Miming stared coldly at the woman. What a strange and twisted soul; she was willing to strangle herself, yet terrified of being driven away.

But it was useless. Cairns simply picked her up and threw her out. Her weeping and shouting gradually faded into the distance. In this slave pen, this was such an ordinary sound that it failed to stir even the slightest bit of sympathy.

When Cairns returned, Miming asked, "How will she be dealt with?"

"You mean Baby 5?" Cairns said. "Maids who are driven away are generally sent back to their birth mothers. After all, she used to be the young master's woman, so her life won't be too bad."

"Wait, what did you say her name was? Baby 5?" Miming was somewhat bewildered, his head instantly throbbing.

"That's right, Rosward's fifth illegitimate daughter, so her name is Baby 5. We'll have to check where her birth mother was captured from back then, but don't worry, there are records." Cairns looked at Miming's bewildered expression and was utterly puzzled. "What? Do you need her to be brought back?"

"No." Miming recovered his wits. Sending Baby 5 away was truly what was best for her; at least the outside world could make her twisted worldview kind. This was unquestionably happiness.

"We will meet again in the future, Baby 5." Miming sighed, then immediately refocused his attention on the Boa Sisters.

After some tidying up, the Boa Sisters were returned to their comfortable room.

Although servants had been ordered to wash their bodies, change their medicines, and put new clothes on them, the three sisters still lay on the bed without moving.

"They are on a hunger strike," Cairns reported.

He could sense that these three sisters completely lacked any desire to continue living. The Amazon was a proud warrior race, and the humiliation they had suffered here had exceeded the limits allowed by their pride. If not for the sake of the other sisters, he believed they would have committed suicide long ago. Now, the three sisters had reached a consensus to just die together. Living was an endless humiliation anyway.

"Get out! Everyone out--!" Miming couldn't help roaring, driving all the people away.

Holding a spoonful of porridge, Miming carefully blew it cool, wanting to feed it into Hancock's mouth. But Hancock's lips were tightly shut, and the porridge simply spilled out.

Weakly opening her eyes a fraction, Hancock glanced at him, then closed her eyes once more. Those Celestial Dragons had returned, but things wouldn't change. She already understood that these Celestial Dragons' accidental kindness could not change the fact that they were slaves.

Hancock's eyelashes trembled slightly, and then she said in an almost imperceptible voice, "Have mercy... let us... die..."

Her proudest face was now covered in scars, which destroyed her very last shred of pride. She truly didn't want to live anymore.

"No, for Marigold and Sandersonia's sake, you must hold on," Miming said softly. "Eat. Once you eat, they will eat." He had actually remembered such tongue-twisting names for the two Boa younger sisters; he was definitely showing immense sincerity. Sandersonia was the name of the green-haired second sister, and Marigold was the youngest sister. But because she had always appeared very sensible, people always assumed she was older than Sandra.

"We... don't want to live anymore..." Hancock said in anguish.

"Eat it," Miming said earnestly. "I don't expect you to trust me, but if you hold on, there will still be hope tomorrow."

Hancock turned her face away in agony, refusing to eat even a bit despite her cracked lips. Compared to death, endless torture was far more terrifying; death was instead a release.

"Perhaps you can't believe it." Miming was not discouraged. He carefully wiped away the porridge that had spilled from the corner of her mouth and scooped up another spoonful. "One day, I will send you away from this hell. If you agree, I want to go with you as well."

"Your back hurts a lot, doesn't it? The wound caused by that brand, the wound named the Hoof of the Soaring Dragon."

"You might not believe it, but on my body, there is the exact same brand, the exact same wound, only it cannot be seen," Miming said leisurely. "I didn't want to become one of the Celestial Dragons myself, either. A brand can perhaps be covered up, but the bloodline of the Celestial Dragons is like a curse, one that cannot even be hidden."

"But I will work hard to become stronger, and one day I will shake off this curse and take fate into my own hands."

"For your younger sisters, you must pull yourself together. Boa Hancock, I believe you can do it."

"One day, not only will I rescue you all, but I will also liberate every slave here."

"Eat. Eat it, and tomorrow there will be hope once more."

Before she knew it, the porridge from the spoon flowed into her trembling lips. Tears streaming down her face, Hancock silently ate it.

In the silence, for the first time in so long, Miming heard the sound of Hancock speaking—a voice as beautiful as a lark.

"No matter what scheme you're plotting, if you're tricking us, we'll never let you go even as ghosts!"

Miming joyfully gripped Hancock's hand, too emotional to say a single word.

Early the next morning, before dawn, Miming arrived at the Twelve God Temple in Pangaea Castle.

"Finished?" Anubis was no longer overly surprised by Miming's changes. However, for one of the Celestial Dragons to wake up this early, Miming was definitely the one and only.

Feeling the extremely harmonious energy within Miming's body, Anubis knew he was ready. Not just his body, but even his inner self had grown quite resilient.

"Then let's begin. The training of the Six Styles of the Gods. Which technique do you want to learn first?"

Shadowless, a footwork technique that allowed the body to flash past in an instant, making it seem as though one had vanished to the enemy.

Vajra, a qigong technique that filled the flesh with explosive power, granting it the hardness of diamond. When practiced to perfection, it could also be used to strike enemies.

Chaotic Dance, a martial art that could control the body to perform incredible movements, erase one's presence, evade attacks, and alter body shape.

Tread Wind, a lightness skill that allowed high-speed movement across the surface of any medium, including the sky and water.

Vacuum, a blade technique that created vacuum blade qi with bare hands, where flying flowers and plucked leaves could all injure people.

Flying Missile, a fist technique of attack as defense, unbreakable and invincible.

No matter which of these six styles it was, each could be used for both offense and defense, and mastering a single technique was enough to conquer the world. Each style could also branch into numerous moves, such as the Shadowless Kick, Vajra Palm...

After carefully understanding them, Miming couldn't help drawing a sharp breath. The Marine Six Styles were far more than just a castrated, simplified version; this was simplified down to just the foreskin!

To put it bluntly, anyone could practice the Marine Six Styles as long as they were human. It was just hardship; as long as one wasn't afraid of suffering and practiced desperately, one would reap rewards. Practiced to the extreme, they could give rise to changes and turn the rotten into the miraculous.

As for the Six Styles of the Gods, there was no need to turn the rotten into the miraculous—they were divine arts to begin with. Each style possessed ten stages of progression and a variety of move variations. According to an individual's aptitude and comprehension, each stage possessed detailed cultivation methods and breakthrough paths.

Practicing all of the Marine Six Styles could greatly increase the possibility of awakening Life Return.

Meanwhile, for the Six Styles of the Gods, one had to awaken Life Return before beginning training!