Genius Pucott's Morning

Saint Pucott's bedchamber.

At first light, a ray of sunshine fell softly through the white curtains.

Pucout wrinkled his fat, round, bulbous nose and smacked his lips twice, sleeping soundly with a pillow in his arms.

Dozens of wine bottles lay scattered across the floor, and the air was filled with the scent and faint smoke of burned pine.

They were remnants of the previous night's bonfire party.

The corpses on the enormous artificial mountain outside the door had already been disposed of, leaving only a few traces of blood.

Saint Lawrence, a Celestial Dragon, had picked up some new tricks while touring the West Blue.

In the Margaret Kingdom of the West Blue, there was a kind of rock goat that could climb sheer, towering cliffs and butt heads with its horns. The loser would fall into the abyss and be smashed to pieces.

The nobles of the Margaret Kingdom made slaves climb artificial cliffs like rock goats. Pointed stone spikes rose beneath them, and the slaves attacked one another with weapons.

Lawrence had brought this game back to the Holy Land, choosing the artificial mountain outside Pucout's bedchamber as the venue.

A group of Celestial Dragons had lit a bonfire and made a dozen Fish-Man slaves born in the deep sea climb the artificial mountain, its surface flickering between light and shadow, and fight one another to the death.

With the red wine presented by the Margaret Kingdom to accompany it, the evening had been especially enjoyable.

Lawrence and Pucout were eager to seek out their good friend, Gladiator King Augustus, and follow the Margaret Kingdom's example by adding a similar merman mountain-gladiator event to the North Star Colosseum.

That idea alone ought to keep them happy for a long time.

In his sleep, Pucout suddenly had a flash of inspiration. Wouldn't it also be interesting to put human slaves who can't breathe underwater into an underwater gladiator fight?

That was what the genius Pucout was thinking.

Bang!

Metal clashed with a thunderous boom.

Pucout frowned and pressed the pillow over his ears.

Bang, bang, bang, bang!

Another rapid succession of explosive crashes rang out, piercing the pillow's feeble defenses like a hammer pounding on his skull, with no sign of stopping.

A quarter of an hour later, Pucout could bear it no longer. His bloodshot eyes flew open.

Singing, dancing, watching the slaves perform-his overexcited heart still felt a little tight.

Pulling his white dressing gown around himself, Pucout shouted:

"Butler, who's smashing things? Tell him Pucout is resting, and order him to stop at once!"

The old butler in a tailcoat hurriedly assented. Shortly after going out, he came rushing back in a panic.

By then, the genius Pucout had buried his head in four pillows in an attempt to block out the noise. When the experiment failed, his face flushed dark red with anger.

"Butler, why hasn't the noise stopped?!"

Pucout roared in fury.

The old butler trembled as he said, "Master, the one making the noise is Lord Saint Longinus of the Donquixote Family..."

Pucout thought for a moment and vaguely recalled the younger man who rarely went out.

"What's he doing?"

"I just saw him working at a forge..."

"Working at a forge?"

The genius Pucout froze for two seconds and glanced at the gold clock on the wall. Seven in the morning...

"Lunatic! Every Celestial Dragon is asleep at this hour, and he's working at a forge?"

Pucout immediately rolled out of bed, put on his slippers, and hurried toward the door, his massive body swaying as he cursed all the way.

The old butler hurried to support Pucout with his frail body, kicking aside the scattered wine bottles as he went.

Usually, after Pucout fell asleep, he would make special arrangements for servants to clean up. Today had truly caught him off guard.

If Pucout fell, the old butler reckoned his life would be more fragile than those wine bottles.

Standing by the roadside, Pucout kept the furious expression with which he had come to demand an explanation, but stared blankly without a word for a good half minute.

A huge iron ball more than three meters across, covered in strange patterns, stood in the middle of the road.

A strikingly handsome youth with tousled golden hair was pounding the iron ball with his fists, each impact producing a deafening crash.

Inside his bedchamber, Pucout had only been able to hear the noise. Now, he could feel the ground trembling.

The youth was bare-chested, every line of his muscles clearly defined.

His hands, covered in pitch-black Armament Haki, were especially conspicuous.

Mad King Longinus's most distinctive feature was his pair of black hands, covered in Armament Haki that never faded.

The iron ball was probably hollow, but it must still have been astonishingly heavy. The youth's fierce attacks could only move it slowly along the ground.

The longer the genius Pucout looked at the iron ball, the more familiar it seemed. He thought hard about where he had seen it...

Oh, he remembered. There was a huge statue of an ancestor on the Donquixote family grounds. According to legend, the Donquixote ancestor had been a blond warrior skilled with a war hammer.

If he wasn't mistaken, this eight-sided iron ball was probably the hammerhead...

Then he looked at Lu Ye's attendants.

Hoffman stood to one side, ready to give Lu Ye pointers on his punching form.

Flora and Evan were each carrying a weapons rack, stocked with sabers, spears, swords, halberds, axes, battle-axes, hooks, and tridents.

Three swordsman chefs were pulling a huge cart piled high with food containers and a complete set of cooking utensils for preparing meals outdoors at any time.

Sullivan, who had a pair of fleshy wings on his back, was flying in midair with two banners behind him. Each bore a line of large, boldly written characters:

On the left:

"Longinus's Path of the Strong, personally approved by Garling!"

On the right:

"Challenge the heroes of the Holy Land. No complaints if you're beaten to death!"

Several Celestial Dragons were already standing by the roadside, but seemingly intimidated by Lu Ye's oppressive might, they only dared mutter among themselves and not approach.

Pucout rubbed his eyes and repeatedly checked that he wasn't seeing things from drinking too much. He took a deep breath and shouted:

"You brat from the Donquixote Family, it's seven in the morning. Don't you know people are resting?

Your bedchamber, the school, or wherever...

Just leave at once and go back where you belong!"

Lu Ye stopped punching, took a towel from Sullivan, and wiped the sweat from his face.

"Uncle Red Nose, judging by your face, you're about forty, right? At your age, you still want to embark on the Path of the Strong?"

Pucout flung the old butler aside, pushed his enormous body past the other Celestial Dragons, and walked up to Lu Ye.

"My name is Pucout. You and your attendants had better leave quickly. The Holy Land is no place for you to cause trouble. If I call the knights, you'll be sorry!"

Lu Ye flexed his wrists.

"Then, Red Nose Pucott, what weapon do you like to use? A saber... or a sword?"

"Fight?"

Pucout looked down at Lu Ye, who didn't even come up to his thigh, and said in a muffled voice:

"I'm not going to fight you. How could we Celestial Dragons do something so vulgar, especially with a brat like you?"

Lu Ye paid him no mind and nodded in satisfaction. "You like fighting barehanded? That suits me just fine. I've just been practicing my punches."

Pucout wrinkled his bulbous nose. "Can't you understand what people are saying, little fellow...?"

Before he could finish, Pucout felt as if a Sea King had rammed him in the belly. He spewed out all the wine from the night before.

Lu Ye dodged quickly and watched Pucout crash to the ground. Sweeping his gaze over the other Celestial Dragons, he said:

"Who's next? Do you want to set foot on the Path of the Strong too?"

The Celestial Dragons averted their eyes, angry but afraid to speak.

A green-haired Celestial Dragon asked timidly, "Your Excellency Mad King, may I ask how much longer you'll be training?"

"Thirty minutes..." Lu Ye said indifferently.

The Celestial Dragons all breathed a sigh of relief. Thirty minutes was fine; going to sleep a little later wasn't unacceptable.

But Lu Ye immediately added, "I'll take a ten-minute break every thirty minutes and keep punching until sunset."

The Celestial Dragons immediately let out a chorus of wails and pressed him. "But only for today, right?"

Lu Ye looked at them calmly and grinned. "Starting today!"