The bar

Dunn was in a good mood after extracting the two Devil Fruits.

Since he had already made his decision, these two Devil Fruits were now "burdens" to him.

Of course he would feel good after getting those two "burdens" off his hands.

That made perfect... sense, my ass...

Although he knew it had to be done, Dunn still could not help feeling the sting, especially over the Flame-Flame Fruit. It was a Logia, after all. Before Mythical Zoans ascended to their lofty pedestal, Logias had been universally acknowledged as the strongest type of Devil Fruit.

"Come and get it! Delicious grilled fish, only five copper coins!"

"Fresh oyster soup, hot off the stove! Hot and fresh! Come have a taste, good sirs!"

"Fruit and vegetables just arrived today! Cheap and fresh! First come, first served!"

Vendors selling vegetables, fruit, local snacks, and the like shouted along the street, calling out to passersby.

Dunn slowly made his way through the bustling street, continued onward, then turned onto another street before finally stopping in front of the Brave Ones Bar.

Bars on these islands were not simply places to drink. They also offered food, lodging, and even certain special services.

As a result, bars often drew visitors from far and wide.

This made them the largest gathering places for information on the islands outside official organizations.

Pushing open the bar's doors, Dunn felt a wave of heat wash over him, smelled the strong scent of alcohol, and heard the noisy shouting and clinking of cups inside.

As he entered, the smell of alcohol mixed with sweat and a trace of cheap perfume assaulted his nose.

Dunn frowned slightly, suddenly feeling that an overly keen sense of smell was not necessarily a good thing.

He looked around, located the counter, and headed straight toward it, pushing away the prostitutes who approached at the sight of a new face.

Dunn had originally entertained the idea of letting off some steam himself.

In the space of a single week, he had experienced transmigration, rebirth, killing, and fights for his life-things he might never have experienced even once in his entire previous lifetime. That week had left him under enormous psychological pressure.

And sex was undoubtedly the best outlet for releasing stress.

But the quality of these heavily made-up prostitutes wearing cheap perfume instantly made Dunn abandon the idea.

Dunn was not especially picky in this regard, but after exposure to all sorts of online photos and porn in his previous life, and with Annie beside him after his transmigration-a beauty who would have ranked among the very best even in his previous life-his standards were inevitably far higher than those of this world's lower-class commoners.

In short, these prostitutes simply could not get Dunn hard.

"A mug of ale."

Dunn spoke to a bartender polishing a glass as he reached the counter.

"Five copper coins," the bartender replied with practiced ease.

Dunn took out a silver coin and handed it over, receiving a wooden mug filled with golden liquid in return.

The ale had a rich, inviting aroma. Dunn raised it and took a long drink. It tasted crisp and refreshing, slightly bitter at first, before the fragrance of malt spread through his mouth.

Dunn was not much of a drinker.

But this ale tasted surprisingly good.

"I'm a captain." Dunn stopped the bartender from giving him his change and said, "I just crossed the Storm Sea, and my ship suffered some losses. I'm looking to recruit sailors now. Could you recommend anyone? I only want experienced hands."

Dunn deliberately emphasized "experienced hands," trusting that the bartender would understand what he meant.

The bartender understood and discreetly put away the change.

"See that table over there?" The bartender gestured with his eyes toward a corner of the bar.

Dunn followed his gaze and saw several brawny men sitting around a table in the corner, drinking and shooting the breeze.

"They're all capable hands. Their leader's called Hans. They used to crew a slave ship, but the whole ship went down in that storm a few months ago. They were lucky they weren't far from here. They clung to some wreckage and drifted to the island."

The bartender had understood Dunn's meaning well. Compared with crews on ordinary merchant ships, slave-ship crews were undoubtedly fiercer. After all, whenever an opportunity arose, slave ships frequently raised black sails and played pirate.

They did so far more often than merchant ships.

Thus, slave-ship crewmen were not only skilled at their work but also possessed considerable fighting ability-by ordinary people's standards, of course.

Such crewmen were undoubtedly better suited to becoming pirates.

Dunn did not have many thoughts about slave ships. In the society of his previous life, human traffickers certainly deserved death; even dying eight hundred times would not have been enough.

But in this world, intelligent races were beyond counting, and with the continents at war, the existence of slaves could not have been more normal.

After all, they did not even treat the commoners of their own countries particularly well. How could they possibly have the kindness to care about people from an enemy continent?

Dunn was powerless to change this prevailing trend, nor was he interested in doing something so thankless.

"Their wages are relatively high, though," the bartender added in warning when he saw Dunn was interested.

"Very good. Thank you."

High wage demands were good. Anyone confident enough to demand high pay had at least some ability. After all, if they boarded a ship and proved unworthy of their wages, being thrown into the sea would be getting off lightly.

And these ordinary sailors were not even first-tier. However high their demands, they could not possibly exceed the wages Dunn had prepared for his crew.

Dunn did not rush to recruit the sailors. He sipped his ale and listened to the drinkers around him talking loudly, hoping to hear something useful.

"Ah, things have really been getting harder lately."

"Tell me about it. There've been more and more pirates these past few years. Those of us doing honest business are basically doing all the work for their benefit."

"The waters around the Old World are still easier to get by in. I hear they're setting up some joint navy to crack down harder on pirates."

"What good is that? Even without pirates, you can barely make a few coins."

"I'm not bragging, but a few years ago, I actually saw the greatest beauty of the nine seas once. That face, that figure..."

"And then?"

"And that was it."

None of it was particularly useful information, but Dunn still listened with great interest.

Suddenly, a conversation between several drunken sailors caught Dunn's attention.

"Nobles? Nobles aren't worth shit. It's not like I've never killed a noble before."

"Hey, hey, don't start making things up just because you're drunk."

"Exactly. I bet you've never even seen one of those high-and-mighty nobles."

"What do you mean, making things up? You only joined the ship in the last couple of years. It's normal you wouldn't know. Think the name was... Campbell..."

The sailor's words set off an explosion in Dunn's mind, and an indescribable feeling instantly emerged within it.

Dunn had always thought that merging with the dead original owner's consciousness had not affected him at all, but now he could clearly sense that these surging emotions did not come from him.

Clearly, although the original owner had died, Dunn, who had merged with his consciousness, would still be affected by his lingering will at certain times-such as now.

Looking at the drunken sailors, Dunn casually asked the bartender, "Which ship are those sailors from?"

The bartender glanced over and answered, "They're crew from the [Golden Tangerine]. The [Golden Tangerine] is a merchant ship that does a little trading among the nearby islands. It belongs to the Cloverleaf Chamber of Commerce."

"Mm."

Dunn nodded casually, drained the remaining ale in his wooden mug, and walked toward Hans and the other sailors.

Seeing someone approach, the sailors immediately put down their mugs and looked at Dunn.

"Which of you is Hans?"

At Dunn's question, a resolute-faced sailor who looked about thirty replied, "I'm Hans. What can I do for you, sir?"

"I'm the captain of the [Black Pearl]. I want to hire you," Dunn stated his purpose directly.

Hearing Dunn speak so plainly, Hans did not beat around the bush either. "Since you want to hire us, you should know that our wage demands are relatively high..."

"Two gold coins a month," Dunn interrupted.

The sailors looked incredulous at Dunn's offer. Hans asked cautiously, "Sir, you mean two gold coins a year, right?"

"A month."

At Dunn's confirmation, Hans's expression instantly darkened. "Are you messing with us?!"

A monthly wage of two gold coins was already in the range reserved for second-tier professionals. Hans had only wanted eighteen silver coins a month.

Offering such high wages certainly made Dunn look as though he was toying with them.

The two sailors closest to Dunn sprang to their feet, looking ready to come to blows at the slightest disagreement.

Looking at the sailors' ugly expressions, Dunn expressionlessly reached out and placed his hands on their shoulders. With a slight push, both sailors' expressions changed drastically, and they sat back down without any power to resist.

Hans's expression immediately grew even uglier. "A professional!"

Dunn looked at Hans expressionlessly, putting tremendous pressure on him and the sailors. "I have neither the time nor the interest for that sort of nonsense. I'll ask you one last time. Two gold coins a month. Are you coming or not?"

Hans looked at Dunn, then around at the silent sailors. Although he knew there had to be a catch to such an abnormal offer, as the saying went, the bold ate their fill while the timid starved.

Besides, they had already spent several months living off their savings.

Hans gritted his teeth and said to Dunn, "We're in, Captain."