As expected.
When Nojiko and Nami woke up and couldn't find their beloved items, they were both anxious and upset, crying their eyes out.
Xiano, filled with righteous indignation, joined Bellemere in vehemently cursing the unscrupulous thief. What kind of scumbag would steal from children? Truly worse than an animal!
He immediately went to the market, bought a bunch of new hair clips and headbands, and after much coaxing and cajoling, finally managed to make the two little ones smile through their tears.
After all this commotion and some subsequent experiments, Xiano finally figured out the judgment logic of the Sacrifice System.
-
The offering must be something closely related to a manga character, and its value is directly proportional to the closeness of that relationship.
For example, the Orange Flower Hair Clip that Nami cherished was far more valuable than her discarded smelly socks.
-
The value is also directly proportional to the strength of the person the offering comes from and the importance of their role in the manga.
It's only natural that items with emotional ties to stronger characters are harder to obtain and thus more valuable.
As for the character's importance, it's easy to understand. For instance, offerings from Nami are a tier higher in value.
After all, in the manga, Nami is the leading heroine, while Nojiko is just a side character, and Bellemere only exists in memories.
To confirm this, Xiano even sent Nami, the Little Cat Burglar, to steal the small windmill from Genzo's head while he was napping, earning a mere 10 Points.
Well, even a mosquito is still meat. Low value is unavoidable, especially since most manga readers don't even remember who Genzo is.
-
Offerings from the same source can only be sacrificed again after a year.
In other words, there's a cooldown period for "shearing the sheep," and it's a long one. You can't keep milking the same fat sheep.
Looking at his remaining 25 Points, Xiano sighed in melancholy. This rule is the reason he's so poor now.
If it weren't for this restriction...
Given a few years to quietly develop, he wouldn't dare imagine how strong he could be by the time he sets sail as an adult.
He wondered if the Three Admirals of the Navy combined could withstand a single punch from him.
"What are you daydreaming about?"
Bellemere waved her hand in front of his face, snapping Xiano out of his reverie. "You've changed your clothes, so hurry up and eat! Aren't you hungry after working all afternoon?"
Indeed, eating is the priority.
...
The warm light of the kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of meat.
The two little gluttons were already devouring the food, but their mouths and stomachs were too small, so the table still looked as full as if it hadn't been touched.
When Xiano entered, Nojiko immediately pretended to be a lady, sipping her corn chowder delicately, while Nami was still focused on battling the crispy crust of her crème brûlée.
But when Xiano sat down, clapped his hands, and said, "Let's eat," the atmosphere changed instantly.
Honey-glazed ribs disappeared at a rate of three per second, the steamed fish was reduced to bones in the blink of an eye, and staples like mashed potatoes with rice and garlic bread didn't last more than a few seconds, as if swallowed by an endless black hole.
The number of empty plates quickly piled up, soon forming a small mountain.
If an outsider were here, they would surely be stunned.
But the family was already used to it.
Starting about a year or two ago, Xiano began to grow rapidly, and his appetite increased day by day.
——It's perfectly normal for a boy going through puberty and doing physical labor every day to eat a bit more than a little girl!
Bellemere propped her elbow on the side of her face, smiling as she watched Xiano devour his meal.
She wondered if she had saved the East Blue in her past life, for the heavens to have blessed her with such adorable little angels, especially Xiano, who was steady, sensible, diligent, and reliable.
If he were truly an angel, he would probably be the most popular one in heaven, right?
Speaking of which.
Although she had served as a marine for a few years and was physically stronger than the average person, supporting such a large family single-handedly was still a strenuous task.
For a long time, the childhood of the three children was actually quite impoverished.
At one point, Nami could only wear her older sister's hand-me-downs, and Bellemere often felt guilty and blamed herself for it. It wasn't until Xiano grew up and became the family's main labor force that their situation gradually improved.
Especially during the harvest seasons of the past two years, Xiano was always able to finish harvesting the entire orange grove within a week, whereas it used to take her a whole month.
Completing the harvesting and sorting work early meant they could sell all their produce when the first purchasing ship arrived, fetching slightly higher prices than later.
So, over the past few years, this virtuous cycle had led to a steady increase in the family's income.
Bellemere had counted on her fingers; after selling this year's batch of oranges, the money she had saved would surpass 300,000 Berry!
Wow, really, is the dream from my childhood about to come true? Who could have predicted a few years ago that I would one day become a millionaire!
"Is this today's delivery?"
This time, it was Xiano's voice that interrupted her beautiful reverie.
"Huh?"
Bellemere snapped out of her thoughts and saw that Xiano had already finished his meal and picked up a newspaper she had placed on the corner of the table.
"Yes, the News Bird just came at noon," Bellemere complained. "I don't know what the World Economic Journal is up to, raising prices again. Last week it was 40 Berry, now it's 50 Berry per copy. When I was your age, it was only 20 Berry per copy..."
She didn't have the habit of subscribing to the newspaper daily before, nor could she afford it.
It was only in the past two years, after their financial situation improved, that she started subscribing at Xiano's strong insistence, and he would read it carefully every day.
Bellemere couldn't understand why her foster son was so interested in the newspaper, feeling that those major events at sea were quite distant from their life of growing oranges in the countryside.
Her nagging went in one ear and out the other, as Xiano hummed in acknowledgment and quickly scanned the newspaper.
——After just a few lines, his gaze was instantly drawn to the report at the bottom of the front page.
"Agreement Reached! Sun Pirates Captain Jinbei Becomes the New Royal Seven Warlords of the Sea!"
Next to it was a photo of a blue, stout Fish-man wearing a yukata and wooden clogs, calmly looking at the camera, accompanied by several marine officers.
Xiano stared at the photo for a long time without looking away.
The hand holding the edge of the newspaper unconsciously clenched tightly.
"Is it coming..." he murmured in a low voice.
"What?" Bellemere tilted her head in confusion.
"Nothing."
Xiano shook his head slightly and quickly flipped through the remaining pages of the newspaper.
After confirming there was no other noteworthy information, he glanced out the window, pushed back his chair, and stood up.
"The rain seems to have stopped. I'm going to the garden to practice my sword for a while. If it gets late, you can go to bed first. Don't wait for me."
He smiled, grabbed the wooden sword from the corner, and pushed the door open, leaving a receding figure outside the glass window.
"Hmm..."
Bellemere withdrew her gaze, pinching her chin as she fell into deep thought.
She wasn't someone with sharp intuition. As a child, she was often called an empty-headed troublemaker by the elders in her hometown.
But after living together day and night for so many years, she knew Xiano too well. She couldn't shake the feeling that his reaction meant he was hiding something from her.
Suddenly, she vaguely remembered.
When the child was ten years old, one day during a nap, he seemed to have a long and vivid nightmare.
He woke up abruptly, drenched in sweat, and came to her, saying that in the future, a group of terrifying Pirates would come to occupy this island.
He urged her to move away early, far from here, and start a new life on another island.
Of course, that was impossible. This was her hometown. How could she move away because of a child's inexplicable nightmare?
Moreover, the East Blue Branch 16, where she had once served, was very close to here.
If any Pirates were to come, wouldn't the Marines from Branch 16 take care of it?
Bellemere had to comfort him for a long time before the little one calmed down.
From that day on, the child's temperament became more and more steady, and he never mentioned moving again. As time passed, he gradually became the pillar of the family.
All along.
She had thought that Xiano had simply grown up and matured faster than his peers due to his difficult upbringing, and she had only felt relieved.
But now...
Could it be that the impact of that nightmare was far more intense than she had imagined, and it had persisted until now?
————
"Whoosh!"
On this night during the transition from autumn to winter, the temperature had already dropped to around zero degrees, and the white breath exhaled from his nostrils was clearly visible.
Xiano jogged around the orange grove for more than ten laps, digesting his dinner and warming up.
Then he came to an open area, took off his clothes, revealing his sturdy chest.
He planted his feet firmly, placed the wooden sword aside, and began practicing the Breathing Fist Technique.
This set of techniques was something he had saved up for a long time last year and spent a whopping seven hundred Points to purchase from the trading market.
Its core seemed to have some connection to the breathing techniques from the Demon Slayer world, but it was also distinctly different.
At the edge of the orange grove, there was a specially cleared circular open space.
Nine thick wooden stakes buried in the ground formed a formation, each at different heights and distances, with iron hoops tightly bound at both ends.
These were made by the village Carpenter from the old variety of orange trees that had been replaced last year, commissioned by Xiano.
If it weren't for the fact that each stake was covered in doodles by Nami—clouds, moons, and little rabbits—it would indeed have the imposing aura of a master's dojo.
Inside the stake formation, there was also half a basket of oranges.
Most of them had insect holes or were rotten, the rejects from the recent harvest.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Three rotten oranges were tossed into the air, and the moment they landed, the black-haired boy moved.
His right foot slammed onto the growth rings of a wooden stake, his waist and hips twisting with a whooshing sound, his elbow precisely striking the first falling fruit.
The airflow driven by the seventh form of the Breathing Fist Technique surged wildly beneath his skin, causing the orange to burst into eight even pieces with a "pop."
Before the juice could splash onto his eyelashes, his left knee had already crushed the seeds of the second orange.
And when the third orange was still thirty centimeters above the ground, Xiano suddenly retracted his momentum. His right foot, which had been just inches away from piercing the orange peel, firmly landed on the ground.
Drip.
A bead of sweat fell from his jaw onto the withered leaves, evaporating into a wisp of white smoke.
Relaxing the muscles abruptly when they were at their peak of expansion, repeatedly tempering the capillaries—this was the secret technique recorded in the Breathing Fist Technique manual.
Xiano didn't stop. He took three more oranges from the bamboo basket beside him and repeated the process, over and over again.
Only when half the basket of oranges was nearly empty did he finally pause, walking over to the faucet to splash water on his face.
Swoosh—
With a kick, he sent the empty basket flying. After a brief rest, the black-haired boy turned his attention to the nearby orange trees.
These were also varieties Bellemere had purchased years ago. Whether in terms of yield or the taste of the fruit, they were far inferior to the later batches.
Once this winter passed, they should be replaced.
Just like certain lowly Fish-men who deserved to be torn into sashimi!
Breathing Fist Technique, Eighth Form!
"Ha!"
Xiano let out a low roar. The moment his left foot crushed the withered leaves beneath him, his right fist shot toward the tree trunk in an arc resembling a seagull's dive.
As his fist moved, the joints of his fingers cracked like popping beans.
Bang! Bang! One punch after another, like a storm, the collision between his knuckles and the tree trunk gradually took on an iron-gray hue.
This color was a sign of the Breathing Fist Technique stimulating the hardening of subcutaneous tissue, somewhat similar to the effects of Armament Haki.
However, the coverage was minimal, and the strength was inferior. For now, it could only be considered a low-grade version.
After finishing the entire set of punches, a faint "crack" sound came from the center of the orange tree, though the surface only bore a few fist marks as deep as a knuckle.
Continue!
After a brief rest—just a few seconds—the old orange tree let out another groan of pain.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The once silent orange grove, now shrouded in night, was filled with the continuous, muffled sound of rapid strikes.
"One thousand nine hundred ninety-six, one thousand nine hundred ninety-seven... two thousand!"
Stop!
Xiano returned to his original position, stabilizing his stance and exhaling deeply.
From his shoulders and the top of his head, nearly transparent white steam wafted out, disappearing into the night.
From his shoulders down, his torso trembled violently, the movement gradually subsiding after a few seconds.
Every inch of his muscles pulsed in sync with his heartbeat, and his pores released waves of heat, evaporating the frost clinging to the withered leaves at his feet into twisting vortices.
"Progress is quite good!"
Feeling the strength still clearly coursing through his body despite extreme fatigue and weakness, Xiano twisted his neck, as if reborn, and couldn't help but grin with satisfaction.
It had to be said.
He truly had some talent in physical training.
He had been practicing the Breathing Fist Technique for a full year and a half.
From a clumsy start to increasing proficiency, his progress had accelerated as if he had activated a speed boost.
From being a novice to reaching
the beginner level, it took him a year. Then, in just over three months, by the end of summer and the beginning of autumn, he finally achieved a minor breakthrough.
And now, before winter had fully set in, he could already feel the barrier of his limits.
At this rate.
He was confident that with just over ten more days of such rigorous training, he could achieve mastery in the fist technique.
(End of Chapter)