I collect everything in the One Piece world.

"Useless trash! Walking so slowly! You've dirtied my new dress!" the woman shrieked, and lashed out with her whip again.

Most pedestrians hurried past without looking around, as if they hadn't seen anything.

The few who stopped to watch did not show anger or sympathy on their faces, but rather a numb sense of normalcy. Some even showed expressions of interest, as if they were watching a commonplace street performance.

This is the Sabaody Archipelago.

Above the bubbles lies a fairy tale.

Beneath the bubble lies naked, tacitly accepted enslavement and cruelty.

Looking at the scene before him, Mosen's hands clenched involuntarily. He felt nauseous and an uncontrollable rage.

"This is... infuriating!"

Chapter 7, The Farmer and the Sheepdog

Mosen's low murmurs were almost drowned out by the sound of the whip cutting through the air and the woman's curses.

The aura of the slave curled up on the ground grew weaker and weaker, like a candle flickering in the wind.

But the woman's rage did not stop; she even began kicking the slave hard with her jeweled pointed shoes, as if kicking a bag of rubbish.

"Are you playing dead?! Get up! You lowly thing!"

Just then, an unusual commotion arose at the end of the street.

The noise on the street suddenly stopped, replaced by hurried footsteps and suppressed gasps.

Pedestrians and vendors retreated to both sides of the street at an alarming speed, like a flock of startled birds, heads bowed and eyes downcast, not daring to look straight ahead, instantly clearing the wide center of the street.

Mo Sen was puzzled, but he subconsciously followed the crowd to the eaves of a shop, looking down the empty road.

Then, he saw several strange people.

An obese man with a round bubble hood over his head was riding on the back of an unusually large slave with a heavy collar around his neck.

The slave crawled forward on all fours like a silent donkey, the heavy iron chains rattling with each step.

The fat man even held a short whip inlaid with jewels in his hand, occasionally tapping the slave's back.

Several tall bodyguards, all dressed in black suits and wearing sunglasses, followed closely beside the "mount."

Further out, there were even a few soldiers in naval uniforms, holding long guns. They looked tense and their sharp eyes scanned the submissive crowd on both sides, clearing a path for the "bubble-headed" man in the middle.

Needless to say, just from his unique attire and arrogant demeanor, Mo Sen understood his identity.

The absolute privileged class in this world, the world's nobles, are the "Celestial Dragons".

The impact of anime visuals is far less than one ten-thousandth of what you see in person.

That undisguised arrogance and indifference towards others, treating them like livestock.

The so-called navy, representing "justice," bowed down and became a twisted and unjust force, reduced to a private bodyguard.

The Navy's "justice" may be rotten to the core.

Objectively speaking, their existence did maintain peace on the sea and protect civilians, but in reality, they were upholding the privileged rule of the "Celestial Dragons."

Normally, these sheepdogs protect the flock and prevent them from being attacked by wild animals.

But when the farm owner is about to slaughter the sheep, the sheepdogs will only wag their tails behind their owner.

The most tragic thing is that some sheep try hard to become sheepdogs, thinking they are serving the flock, but in reality they are just lackeys.

Of course, some bolder sheepdogs even dare to bare their teeth at their owners, but they inevitably end up being skinned and dismembered by their owners.

In the middle of the street, the richly dressed woman who had just been fierce towards the slaves was now pale with fright and almost collapsed.

She frantically waved her whip, trying to drive away the slaves at her feet: "Get out of the way! Don't block the master's path!"

But after kicking for a while, she realized that the slave had already died.

Left with no other choice, she could only pull the chains to the side, but being used to a life of luxury, she was too weak. After several attempts, the corpse remained motionless, making her even more embarrassed.

The Celestial Dragon riding on the slave's back had already approached, his fat face showing impatience.

He skillfully maneuvered his "mount" to a stop, pointed his short whip at the woman and the corpse at her feet, and shouted, "Hey! You over there!"

"Why are you blocking my path with these filthy slaves!"

The woman was terrified and knelt down with a thud, stammering, "No, no! Your Excellency!"

"It was this lowly slave who died because he was useless! I... I was just about to move him away! Please forgive me! Forgive me!"

She kowtowed, and her gorgeous dress quickly became covered in dust.

The Celestial Dragon's small eyes darted around behind his bubble hood, glancing at the corpse and then at the trembling woman. Suddenly, he grinned, revealing a strange smile.

"Oh? Your slave died because he disobeyed? That means you, the master, have terrible training skills!"

"And since you think he's not good enough as a slave, why don't you try to be better than him? Let's see if you can be better than him?"

The woman was struck dumb by these words, her face turning deathly pale: "No, sir... I... I didn't..."

"Hehehe! Put the chain on her!" Tianlong didn't care what she thought, and didn't even give her a chance to continue.

With a mere wave of his hand, the man in black beside him immediately stepped forward, roughly ripped off the jewelry necklace from the woman's neck, replaced it with a rough, cold metal collar, and then respectfully handed the other end of the chain to the Celestial Dragon.

"Now, climb!" the Celestial Dragon commanded, then dismounted from the slave's back and gestured for the man in black to drag the exhausted former "mount" aside. He then clumsily climbed onto the woman's back.

The woman could not bear such weight and humiliation. She barely managed to crawl two steps before her legs gave way and she fell forward, almost throwing the Celestial Dragon off her.

"Useless trash! You worthless thing!"

"You're not even as good as this filthy slave! You damned ant!" The Celestial Dragon roared in fury, his smile instantly replaced by rage.

He tumbled awkwardly off the woman, and without hesitation pulled out a beautifully crafted pistol from his waist, which was even inlaid with gold and gemstones, and aimed it at the woman who was still struggling and crying on the ground.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Several gunshots rang out sharply in the quiet street.

The woman's body convulsed violently a few times before falling silent, and blood quickly spread beneath her elegant dress.

"Hahaha! What useless trash! Not even fit to be a mount!" The Celestial Dragon looked at the corpse on the ground, showing no fear or remorse whatsoever. Instead, he laughed as if he had seen something amusing, and even kicked the woman's corpse.

The bodyguards around him remained expressionless, and a hint of pity flashed in the eyes of the naval soldiers, but they quickly returned to their cold, alert state.

Mosen stood there, feeling his mouth dry and his worldview severely shaken.

The impact of watching the anime version on a screen is completely different from watching it live.

The cruel reality unfolded nakedly before Mosen's eyes, and an undisguised disgust rose in his eyes.

Just then, a deep, calm, and somewhat magnetic male voice suddenly rang out from the side: "New here?"

Chapter 8, Rayleigh, the King of the Underworld, is laid to rest.

Mosen turned his head and saw a man who had been standing silently next to him without him noticing.

He looked quite old, with a full head of white hair that was neatly combed. His face still showed the handsome features of his youth, and he wore glasses on his nose. Behind the lenses, his gaze was deep and calm, as if he could see into people's hearts.

Wearing a simple white shirt and dark trousers, with an old jacket casually thrown on, and carrying a half-empty wine bottle, he looked like a down-on-his-luck but still dignified old drunkard.

"Rayleigh, the King of the Underworld!"

The moment the name was uttered, Mosen himself was taken aback.

The image of the legendary first mate from the anime, a man of great courage and wisdom, quickly overlapped in my mind with the seemingly down-on-his-luck silver-haired man before me, whose eyes held unfathomable depths.

Rayleigh, who was about to leave, paused upon hearing this, turned his head slightly, and a clear look of surprise flashed in his eyes behind his glasses.

He looked Mo Sen up and down, a smirk playing on his lips: "Oh? You know me? Interesting."

“I thought I was hiding well on this island, and I rarely even appeared in the newspapers... I never expected to be recognized by a young man who just arrived here.”

There was no tension or wariness in his tone; rather, it sounded like he had discovered some interesting mystery, but he didn't press for details: "But none of that matters."

He turned around to face Mo Sen, casually waving the bottle of liquor he was holding: "Kid, what happened just now is quite common here."

He raised the wine bottle and gestured vaguely at the street and the mangroves in the distance: "There are so many that you can't even count them all."

"If you can't get used to it, it could be dangerous if they see your expression."

Mosen understood what Rayleigh was referring to. Everyone else was either terrified, frightened, or expressionless and numb, but he looked at the Celestial Dragons with eyes full of disgust.

If you were to be seen by a Celestial Dragon by chance, it would definitely be a troublesome situation.

As his thoughts raced, Mo Sen took a deep breath, his emotions subtly concealed, and he regained his composure, at least outwardly.

“I understand. Thank you for reminding me,” Morsen said softly but sincerely.

"It's too early to thank me now. Wait until you can leave this island unscathed before you thank me."

Rayleigh took another swig of wine, his gaze seemingly piercing through Morsen's calm and seeing the embers that had never been extinguished deep within his heart.

He glanced thoughtfully at Mo Sen, then stopped lingering. Carrying the wine bottle, he turned around unsteadily and, with seemingly casual steps, merged into the crowd that had begun to flow again in just a few steps.

The old jacket and flowing white hair quickly disappeared into the colorful bubbles and noise, as if they had never existed.

Mosen stood alone in place, silent for a long time.

On the street, people were already numbly cleaning up the bloodstains and dragging away the two bodies that had just been alive.

The woman's fine clothes were roughly torn, and the slave's withered hands and feet dragged on the ground, leaving dark red marks.

Those around them either quickened their pace or whispered a few words before continuing with their own business.

The dreamy bubbles continued to rise, and the laughter of children drifted from afar. Everything was quickly "returning to normal," concealing the blatant violence and death beneath a facade of prosperity.

He didn't leave immediately, but watched the direction in which the slave's corpse was dragged away and silently followed for a distance until those people casually dumped the corpse next to a garbage dump in a secluded alley, as if dealing with some large piece of trash.

After the cleaners left, Mosen went over and used the linen that had been used to wrap the stone slab to drag the emaciated, wounded stranger to his feet.

The body was frighteningly light, like a withered twig, or even lighter.

Mosen led him to a relatively remote area on the island, near the mangrove roots, where they found a small patch of soft mud and dug a pit of about the right depth.

He placed the burlap along with the soil into the pit, trying to keep it upright, and then covered it with the excavated soil until the ground was level again.

There was no coffin inside, nor a tombstone, only the most ordinary soil, and a few inconspicuous plants with pretty pale purple flowers that Mosen had pulled down from the side.

"Although I don't know your name or where you come from..." Mosen said softly, looking at the small mound of earth.