Who Even Are You?

The old butler helped Pucout back to his bedchamber, where his enormous, bloated body lay on the bed, groaning in pain.

Before long, the other Celestial Dragons who had gathered at the bonfire party the night before also arrived at Pucout's bedchamber, each having chosen to come of their own accord.

The reason was simple: it was the closest place to seek treatment from the area where Lu Ye was training.

"Easy... easy! Watch my back!"

Lawrence, lean as a stick insect, was carried in. His lower back was out of alignment and bent severely forward, while his entire face was grotesquely swollen.

At first, Lawrence had failed to recognize Lu Ye as a Celestial Dragon. Leading two young female slaves, he had stepped forward to provoke him, with an arrogant air that said, "I'm a Celestial Dragon. Go on, try laying a hand on me."

Lu Ye couldn't help himself and gave him a few extra punches.

"Bastard! He's completely lawless!"

Lawrence held a cold towel over his face, with four pillows tucked under his lower back. Only then could he barely manage to lie beside his good brother Pucout. He had only howled twice before he immediately began crying out in pain.

Pucout wanted to turn over and comfort his dear friend, but the sharp pain in his waist and abdomen immediately made him whimper too.

The two took turns groaning, like a sorrowful duet.

The other Celestial Dragons felt keenly for them and took turns cursing Lu Ye, who was still hammering away at the forge.

Suddenly, amid the clamor, a clear voice asking a question caught everyone's attention.

"Did you see the flag behind Sullivan? The Garling it mentioned... he couldn't be the same person as Lord Hero King Garling, could he?"

One Celestial Dragon said hesitantly, "That... probably isn't him, right?"

The clear voice pressed, "Can you be sure? Do you remember how he got the title of Mad King?

The first time that bastard went mad, Lord Garling personally stepped in."

"Don't joke about that!"

Lawrence gritted his teeth and said bitterly:

"How could a brat from the Donquixote Family have anything to do with Lord Garling? Lord Garling just happened to save him, that's all. Other than that, is there any other connection between them?"

The clear voice immediately replied:

"There is, there is! Longinus's mother is Lord Garling's older half-sister on his father's side..."

At once, the room fell silent.

A moment later, the genius Pucout forced himself to sit up despite the terrible pain. His bright red, bulbous nose hissed as he sucked in a cold breath, and he roared:

"No matter what, beating Celestial Dragons is an unforgivable crime! We have to report him to the Holy Knights!"

The Celestial Dragons were filled with righteous indignation and began another round of curses against Lu Ye.

Just then, an elderly Celestial Dragon with a white beard, a cane, and a gold-rimmed monocle swept his gaze over the crowd. His throat bobbed, but he stopped himself from speaking.

Lawrence reached out and seized the elderly Celestial Dragon's beard, saying angrily:

"Old Nielsen, why aren't you cursing him? And why are you looking at us like that? Have you gone over to his side?"

Old Nielsen's face flushed red as he frantically slapped at Lawrence's hand. "I just wanted to remind you all: do you remember the Path of the Strong written on the flag?"

"What's that? Some new attraction at the colosseum?"

A sticky voice asked.

"I've only heard a little about it myself. It's a secret that's hard to learn about even for us Celestial Dragons..."

Old Nielsen lowered his voice and said guardedly:

"The way the Holy Knights train their chosen candidates is called the Path of the Strong.

Under the Holy Knights' deliberate influence, the chosen candidates face extraordinary challenges, like pirate attacks and such. Those have nothing to do with us.

But the chosen candidates are incited into conflicts with other Celestial Dragons. As they grow, it's almost inevitable that they'll stain their hands with Celestial Dragon blood.

They use provocation to spur their growth, even if it means bloodshed!

Do you understand? Forget asking the Holy Knights for justice. It's very possible that they believe this will help the chosen candidate grow, and that's what gives us value as sacrifices.

The elder who told me about this warned me:

If you discover that someone around you has a special talent...

Run! Get as far away from them as you can!"

Everyone's heart clenched. Only the genius Pucout burst out laughing, though after only a couple of laughs, he clutched his belly and began rolling around in pain...

"Nonsense!"

A moment later, Pucout swung his palm, as large as a palm-leaf fan, and slammed it heavily on the bed. The lean Lawrence bounced a foot into the air, then clutched his lower back and began whimpering when he landed.

"Everyone, we Celestial Dragons are supreme. How could they let us die just to train a chosen candidate?

Can't slaves die? Can't commoners die?

That rumor is ridiculous, hahahahaha..."

Pucout spoke with certainty, and all the Celestial Dragons nodded in agreement.

The clear voice rang out again:

"But Gladiator King Augustus and his son Freck are already dead!"

Pucout said furiously, "Impossible! Don't make that kind of joke about my brother Augustus!"

The clear voice replied, "It's true. Just yesterday, at the North Star Colosseum, Longinus skewered both of them on an iron rod like kebabs."

Lawrence glared and argued, "Bullshit! You make it sound like you saw it yourself. Do you know how serious the consequences of killing a Celestial Dragon are?

If it were true, how would Longinus have had a chance to show up out here? He would definitely have been executed!"

"Maybe the Path of the Strong that the stinky old man talked about is real? What a shame I didn't see it myself."

The clear voice sounded somewhat disappointed. "Idiot Pops pulled us away. Mjosgard was the one who told us that Lord Garling came later, but Longinus miraculously survived."

Lawrence craned his neck, searching the crowd for the owner of the clear voice. It took him a long time to find her: a little girl of six or seven.

Lawrence bared his teeth and roared, "Wait, who even are you? Who let you into Pucout's bedchamber?"

"Hehehehe..."

The sticky voice rang out as Charlos poked his head out, flinging snot about. "My name is Charlos, this is my little sister Shalria, our dad is Rosward, and our mom is..."

"Stop, stop, stop!"

Lawrence cut him off angrily. "Brat, I wasn't actually asking who you are. What I meant was that we don't know each other, so don't just walk into someone else's bedchamber."

Shalria chewed her gum and casually blew a bubble. "I just wanted to hear how you cursed Longinus."

The genius Pucout's eyes lit up. "Little girl, do you have a grudge against him too?"

"I don't have a grudge against him! I like him best!"

Shalria rolled her eyes. "It's just that his mouth is too nasty, and I can't beat him at cursing. It felt pretty good listening to you curse him."

Charlos wholeheartedly agreed. "Yeah, it felt pretty good to me too."

"Goodbye, useless grown-ups. I'm going to tell Longinus what you said."

Shalria brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and strode away on her short little legs.

"Wait for me, sis..."

Charlos hurried after her.

The room instantly fell so quiet that a pin could be heard dropping.

Charlos suddenly poked his head through the window again and said with a grin:

"It's true that Augustus and Freck were killed! Didn't you notice that the North Star Colosseum isn't open?"

The Celestial Dragons looked at one another.

"No! Brother Augustus!"

Pucout howled at the sky.

"No! My dear nephew Freck!"

Lawrence stared wide-eyed and wrung his hands.

"We must see Lord Garling! We have to avenge Augustus and his son, and avenge ourselves! Longinus must be severely punished!"

The sorrowful cries and shouts nearly lifted the roof off Pucout's bedchamber.