Gato found it strange.
When had the world changed?
Ever since he was little, he had been taught that being evil was only natural, while being good meant dying without even an intact Quan corpse.
As one of the world's richest men and a mafia boss, he had earned everything through his own hard work.
After all, murder and arson were everyday business for him. He had even taken part in schemes to overthrow small nations, making a fortune in the process.
Gato was an excellent judge of character!
Those heroes everyone praised, those supposedly remarkable wandering warriors—all of them had met miserable ends before him.
He might not have been tall, but once he broke their legs and forced them to their knees, they hardly seemed all that tall either.
And once he killed their leader, those spineless peasants never dared stand in his presence. They all had to kneel before him to answer his questions.
That was how he had always done things, and nothing had ever changed.
Then he had "shown great kindness" by saving that Zabuza fellow. He hadn't done anything excessive, either. He had merely planted an Explosive Tag inside his companion and made Zabuza risk his life working for him.
After all, he rarely did good deeds like that without asking for anything in return.
Gato had even thought he was getting old and starting to seek some so-called good karma.
Yet no good deed went unpunished. Ever since he arrived in this rundown little country, the Land of Waves, nothing had gone right.
First, some hotheaded fool insisted on playing the hero. Apparently, he was even some sort of heroic symbol of the Land of Waves. Wasn't he just a lowborn fisherman with a bit of extra strength?
And that man actually wanted